#she’d probably be good at knitting and she’d probably be good at baking stuff too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dr3amofagame · 3 years

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uhhhh ,, , hi ??

i feel bad bc i havent been here in. LITERALLY forever lmao - hope you guys r all doing good!! ive been working on some stuff but it’s been pretty slow going, and school is also A Thing, so i definitely havent been writing as much as i’d like.

as an apology, have this? really self-indulgent feel-good syndicate + c!dream centric oneshot bc i felt like writing this so u know. why not.

tws: implied torture, abuse, self-harm, disordered eating, starvation mentions, prison arc themes - overall everything’s just blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions, not too much angst here for once! c!sam and c!quackity critical, sorry guys but we r still in the prison arc and they still r on their “fuck human rights” arcs.

Dream leaves.

It’s a surprise - or maybe it isn’t one, Niki isn’t quite sure. She’d never grown to quite trust the man, she knows, and she can’t really tell if the bitter twist of emotion that swells up her chest when Phil comes to her city with the news is betrayal or resignation - what can she say. She’s gotten more than her fair share of broken promises. They don’t exactly faze her anymore.

None of them seem all that surprised, save Techno, who entirely fails to hide the worry that flickers over his face when he calls the Syndicate meeting to officially inform them of what’s going on. She shares quick, careful glances with the other members when his back is turned - despite how many times he’s been burned, Techno still seems so adamant at holding onto every thread, trusting all too easily those who would use and leave him behind without a second glance. He can handle himself, she knows. Still, that’s not going to stop her from slapping Dream upside the head for being yet another worthless person to betray her friend’s forgiving nature.

Nothing much changes in the next few weeks. Niki has to admit, it’s strange without Dream around - he’d not been an ally, much less a friend before dipping completely, but he had been some sort of constant - and Niki is self aware enough to know that she misses him, a little, the same sort of way you might miss an old routine once it’s gone, if only for the familiarity. She still visits Techno and Phil with various baked goods, knowing that Phil would have his hands full just keeping Techno from running himself ragged - makes sure to check on Ranboo, whose nerves have inevitably returned with Dream’s disappearance. To be honest, she doesn’t worry as much as he does - ally or not, she’s spent enough time with the Dream that had left prison to expect that he won’t exactly be able to get himself very far should he come for the four of them, and doesn’t particularly care about he might pull with the rest of the server - if things get bad, she’s sure Phil and Techno will have it handled. She asks Phil, once, what happened, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know, mate,” he heaves a chest to the side, pulling out a stack of stone blocks that Niki gladly holds for him. “One day we woke up and he was just- gone. Everything. Was like he wasn’t ever there at all.”

Niki hums. “Why’d you think he’d do something like that?”

“If I could understand half of why Dream does what he does, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?” He smiles at her from behind a crate. “Shall we bring these things upstairs and start on dinner?”

Niki laughs, knowing that the conversation about Dream is over. “Of course, Phil.”

Dinner is a welcome distraction; all of them have gotten better at cooking in recent months, between her baking and the veritable library of recipes Phil knows that she’s never even heard of, but Phil is still the only one she really trusts to hold his own behind the stove - Ranboo is still a little too nervous around water, and fire, and much of everything, and though Techno can be a perfectly capable cook, he’s been distracted as of late. She has a strong feeling that left to his own devices, he’d just grab a stack of steak and disappear for another few weeks, searching the server for information.

Honestly, she’s a little thrown off by his behavior - he’d not done anything like this with Tommy, if she remembers right, and had hardly seemed affected by Wilbur’s betrayal on the Sixteenth at all (then again, she was a little too lost in her own head to notice if he was.) She tosses her head over to ask Phil, who’s leaning over a few carrots he’s slicing to throw into the stew he’s making, and the man pauses, frowns.

“From what I know,” he starts, words slow, careful, “they’d spent three months in there together, and the conditions weren’t exactly- stellar. According to what Techno said, I’d assumed they had come to some sort of understanding.” He goes back to the carrots, expression dipping into shadow and out of sight. “Guess I was wrong.”

Niki hums. She can see it, sort of - spending months together with someone, no matter how insufferable, probably would end with some degree of attachment - she thinks back to plotting through sleepless nights with Jack, anger and grief leaving them simmering, crabs in the same pot of boiling water, remembers looking into his dead-eyed gaze and seeing her own stare back - and feels a brief pang of guilt. Besides, Techno is Techno. She’d never met someone so willing to forgive, understand, reach out despite everything that’s happened - for Dream to take advantage of that feels almost too obvious. Of course he would - what were they all thinking?

“He’s Dream,” she says as if that explains everything, flipping open the oven door and feeling a wave of heat blast her face. Phil hums lowly, understanding. “I hope Techno will be alright.”

“He’s tough,” Phil cracks a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “And he has us on his side. He’ll get through.”

Niki opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the front door slamming open. Outside their quaint little cottage, the wind howls - it sounds like the beginning of a blizzard out there, flurries painting the world in a thick blanket of white. In the door, Techno strides into the entrance with loud, decisive movements, shutting the door loud enough to make the walls shake. Inadvertently, Niki finds her eyes drawn to the small pile of snow that he’s tracked into the house - Techno’s usually so careful to kick it all off on the porch, never liked it much when there was a pile of melting ice and snow dampening the floorboards and soaking into his shoes. He huffs harshly, stripping off a snow-dusted scarf from his face - a long, multicolored abomination that had been the product of her attempting to teach Ranboo how to knit. Phil has reached his side, hands splayed over his upper arms, eyes soft in the corners from concern.

“Techno, mate-” his tone is chiding but his movements gentle as he brushes snow off of Techno’s signature cloak, “you’ve gotten snow everywhere. What were you doing, dueling a blizzard?”

Techno shakes his head, not meeting Phil’s banter as usual, fur sticking up from the snow melted into it. His voice is gruff and holds little humor - unconsciously, Niki feels her shoulders tense.

“Phil, call a Syndicate meeting.”

---

Phil, per usual, is unrelenting, so it’s not until a quick dinner and some hurried messages to their final member later that the Syndicate is gathered in their meeting room, Techno pacing the length of the room as they wait in their respective seats. He looks less frazzled than he did when he first entered the house, in part due to Phil’s sitting him down to eat and picking through his fur to smooth it out of its windblown spikes and tangles - Techno had grumbled at him to stop preening him, but looked a lot more relaxed by the time they were all finished with their food. Still, his ear flicks periodically, twitching toward ssome sound that Niki can’t hear, movements tighter and jerkier than she is used to. He’d always been a little flightier after the prison, but not quite like this - everything here feels like that but dialed up to eleven. Inexplicably, it reminds her of Dream.

“Techno?” Phil gestures towards his seat, prompting, and he settles into it with an obliging huff.

“Y’know, Phil, the code names are kinda pointless if we never use ‘em,” he says, words carrying no real heat - he looks back at the rest of them, lips thinning into a line. “Anyway. I called this meeting because I found a couple leads on Dream.”

“O-oh,” Ranboo stutters, tail lashing behind him.

“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, mate,” Phil reminds him gently, a sentiment that Niki affirms with a determined nod.

“There’ve been some reports- rumors, really,” Techno says, calling their attention again, and they all turn towards him, “of increased activity around the prison again. The Warden spending more time on its grounds, movement seen around the walls and around the portal- so I decided to go check it out for myself.”

Niki frowns, and watches as Phil does the same beside her - Techno had seemed to avoid the prison if he could help it, save for when he went on the initial mission to break Dream out. It was no secret to them that he didn’t exactly like the place.

“We could’ve helped if you asked,” Phil reminds him, and Techno shakes his head.

“I know, Phil. It’s just- that place is bad news. I’d rather keep you guys away from there if I can-” his hand goes to his head with a poorly hidden wince. “Sorry, Chat’s a little- worked up, at the minute.”

“Sorry, we’ll stop interrupting you,” Niki says, cutting off Phil before he says anything else. “So you went to the prison?”

Techno takes a second to gather his thoughts, mumbling quietly in the way that usually means he’s telling off Chat. “Right- I decided to stake out the portal. The rumors were right- Sam has been hanging around there, entered and left the prison four times yesterday. And today-” he hesitates, expression visibly darkening. “This morning, about an hour after the Warden arrived, Quackity came to the prison and went through the portal. He left the grounds about six hours later.”

“Quackity?” Niki frowns, eyes flicking over to how Phil has stilled in his seat. “What is Quackity doing at the prison?”

Phil ignores her question, reaching towards Techno, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Mate…”

“He smelled of blood when he left,” Techno says, words sharp, and Niki feels her heart skip a beat. “Warden left about half an hour after, and I came back here.”

Ranboo clears his throat, sounding tentative. “Okay,” he drums his hand on the table when they turn towards him, eyebrows drawn, “but what, exactly, does this have to do with, uh, Dream?”

Techno and Phil trade glances, one of their bouts of unspoken conversation that Niki’s grown extremely used to. They seem strangely hesitant, she notes internally, Phil looking towards Techno with a question written clearly in the planes of his face. Techno sighs, a long puff of air through his lips as he closes his eyes and turns his face towards the table.

“You know how Dream was- injured,” he starts slowly, looking back up at them. Niki shifts uncomfortably - of course she noticed, it was impossible not to - if not the bandages that peeked under his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants, then how skinny he’d been, all skin and bones curled up uncomfortably in a pile at the corner of Techno’s couch. She’d not know the extent, by any means, and had always assumed that they’d been self-inflicted - she’d been in a bad enough place on her own before to know how your head can make you want to hurt, sometimes, how eating food can feel like choking on sawdust and the world could feel so much smaller when focused into delicate pricks of pain. Phil’s eyes are trained on Techno - on his face, then on the pinkish raised skin of a still-healing scar along his forearm, and she feels understanding settle like a rock in her gut.

“The Warden had apparently been lettin’ Quackity into the cell to torture Dream for the revive book,” Techno trails off, eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed on a random point of the opposite wall. “By the time I go there, it’d been goin’ on for months.”

“But wait,” Ranboo’s tail moves even more erratically behind him, “You mean you think he’s back- there? How?”

“He has to be back in the prison,” Techno points out. “I can’t imagine anyone besides him that the two of them are goin’ to just start torturin’- Sam had been iffy about the whole thing when Quackity started in on me. It has to be Dream in there again.”

“But how did he get in there, then?” Ranboo asks, visibly confused. “Last time it took the entire server to lock him up!”

“There were no signs of a struggle,” Niki points out, matter of fact. “I believe you, Techno, but I don’t really know how they managed to drag him back so easily. I can’t imagine he was jumping at the chance to go back in there.”

Techno shakes his head with an uneasy sigh.

“I have a feelin’ of what might’ve happened,” he says quietly. “And I really hope that I’m wrong and he’s less of an idiot than I think he is.”

---

They set out to investigate - and maybe attack - the next day, Techno and Phil taking on the bulk of preparations as Ranboo stays behind. He’d been understandably uneasy about the whole mission, so they’d left him back by the Syndicate room to set off their pearls in case anything went wrong. (“By the end of the day,” Techno had said, giving Phil a look with the corner of his lip quirked upwards, “don’t be like Phil here and think I meant the end of the month, alright?”) They’d all be supplied with armor and weapons, thanks to Phil, but she’d been handed the bulk of their potions, arranged neatly in her inventory by type in case they’d be needed. She lingers in the back of the room as Phil and Techno chat amiably over the sound of making last minute repairs on their armor, listens to Techno’s ceaseless reminders for Phil to be careful, watches as they make sure that their stasis chambers are properly prepared should they need them.

(She watches as Phil nudges Techno’s shoulder when he lingers behind a certain chair, empty as long as she’s been part of the Syndicate, the fountain behind it bubbling quietly without a pearl inside. Techno sighs, expression strange.

“Should’ve set him up with one,” he says, quiet, and Phil pats him on the back.

“You couldn’t have known, mate. We wanted to wait a little before telling him about the Syndicate, remember?”

Techno hums, noncommittal. “Still.”)

They Nether travel to the site of Techno’s lookout, which ends up being a little shambling thing with dirt walls dug into a small hill looking towards the prison portal, having hardly enough space to fit the three of them. Phil looks at it with no small amount of apprehension, and Techno shrugs lightly, wearing an expression that makes Phil turn to him with a look that makes Niki break into giggles. Techno crosses his arms- “in my defense-” and Phil looks up at the dirt ceiling with a long-suffering sigh.

“You couldn’t have made this a little roomier, mate?” Phil asks, voice dry as kindling, and Techno raises his hands by his head.

“Hey hey, it’s discreet, it gets the job done, it’s perfectly structurally sound-” the sound of the leftmost wall crumbling, along with the cloud of dust that puffs from it and fills their tiny space, undermines the tail end of his statement and leaves him sputtering, Niki falling into another fit of quiet giggles. Underneath it all, Phil sighs again, raising his wings behind him.

“...these are going to take so long to clean out.”

To his credit, Techno looks sheepish. “Sorry, Phil.”

They sober up quickly; Techno turns around to the opposite side of the hill, where he’s hidden some peepholes inside the dirt - Niki settles herself by one, leaning forwards to put her eye to it and catch a glimpse of the prison looming over the water. It’s been repaired since the breakout, she notes, the gaping hole in the roof completely gone and replaced with obsidian, as intimidating and undamaged as it had been before, if not more so. Phil makes a considering sound from behind her.

“Same plan as last time?” He asks, and Techno shakes his head.

“They’ve probably reinforced it, and Dream’s blueprints won’t include anything new the Warden’s added. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved Dream to a different location completely. We don’t want to draw too much attention, either, we were cutting it pretty close during the breakout.” He narrows his eyes. “I was thinking we’d try something a little stealthier, this time. “

He gestures at Niki, who blinks back at him with wide eyes.

“You got a couple of invis potions for us?”

She distributes the potions among them all, one regular and two splash potions of invisibility each, and Techno points towards the prison once she’s done.

“The most important thing is to get through the portal,” he says with a grim expression. “Worst comes to worst, once we’re inside we can always blast our way through - but gettin’ through that portal is our first priority.”

Phil narrows his eyes at him. “The portal is locked, though. We’ll need to follow someone else inside- and I’m pretty sure Sam uses pearls, so he’s out.”

Techno nods. “Which is why I’m bankin’ on the prison gettin’ another visitor today. We’ll just have to wait.”

Niki swallows. “Do you mean-”

“Quackity?” Techno turns away, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not totally sure, but he’s not exactly the type to just give up on his goals. He’s pretty predictable- an empire needs an emperor, always needs something new to rule- you know the type,” he says, tipping his head towards Phil. “He’ll be mad at Dream for disappearin’ on him and won’t miss the opportunity to prove he has the upper hand again. I’m not sure that he’s going to come today-”

“-but you wouldn’t really be surprised, either,” Phil finishes for him, eyes steely with cold determination. “I trust your judgement, mate. Just stay safe- from what I’ve heard, Quackity has been...erratic.”

“When is he not,” Techno huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Phil. Just be careful, both of you. Don’t get too close. And if things get messy- which is what we’re tryin’ to avoid, by the way- then don’t do anything too risky. Our priority is gettin’ in and out alive.”

“We can handle ourselves, Techno,” Niki reminds him with a small smile. “And Ranboo is there in case anything goes wrong.”

“Alright, then. Here’s the plan.”

---

It takes quite a long time for Quackity to arrive, long minutes that Niki spends fidgeting in the corner of the room, brushing her hands over seams of the netherite plates that Phil had shoved into her hands, back at the Syndicate room. The set is inexplicably light - not weightless, by any means, as it is still netherite, but not nearly as bulky as any set of netherite armor she’s owned or seen in the past. The runes are precise, lines thin and exact, written with graceful strokes of lapis.

“Phil’s the best metalworker I’ve ever met,” Techno tells her with a small grin, catching her in the middle of tracing what she can make out as an Unbreaking rune along the metal strapped to her forearm. “But then again, he’s had the time to practice.”

“Are you calling me old again?” Phil huffs, and Techno flashes a smile her direction before looking at Phil with a slight grin.

“Well, Chat is,” he says, lips twitching when Phil glares back.

“You can’t just blame Chat every time you insult me, you little shit,” Phil groans, and Techno only grins wider.

“Phil, my ad revenue,” he complains, a dramatic lilt to his voice that has Niki stifling a snort, and Phil’s glare only grows deadlier.

“You’ll have more than your ad revenue to worry about if you keep this up,” he mumbles, going back to keep watch at one of the peepholes and stilling as he does. “Shit- Techno, Quackity’s here.”

Techno straightens up, hindered slightly by the low ceiling of their room. “Alright- we all know the plan, right?”

Niki nods in the affirmative, pulling out a splash invis and letting it settle in her hand, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. She reaches into her inventory and lets her armor fade into it, takes a deep breath and watches as the two across from her do the same. She doesn’t wear armor often, but so close to the prison, feeling mining fatigue settling deep into her bones - she’s never missed the security it offers more. Techno keeps watch, waiting- drops his arm in a signal. Now.

Niki throws the potion at their feet, flinching back at the sound of shattering glass and feeling its effects seep into her skin. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything but the inside of the room that they’d holed themselves in and the faintest of wisps rising from where their feet must be, curling around the grass.

(Please let this work, she begs to no one in particular as they walk towards the prison. And if you can hear me- please keep us all safe.)

She hardly breathes as they follow Quackity across the path, holding someone’s hand in her own - Phil’s, by the feel of it - careful to muffle her footsteps in the grass and stand still whenever Quackity’s eyes come a little too close. Thankfully for them, he seems focused, hardly stopping or looking around at all as he walks towards the prison’s portal, movements stiff as he walks forward. He punches the button on the wall particularly harshly, and Sam’s voice comes crackling through a speaker a second later.

“I’m here for my visit,” Quackity says, punctuating the sentence with a snort of laughter that doesn’t sound particularly sincere. Niki hasn’t seen him in a long while, not after everything that happened in Pogtopia, and she feels a chill worm down her spine - this man looks nothing like the one that had laughed and danced and sung at her birthday party what feels like an eternity ago. What happened?

Sam sighs, the sound turning into a sharp burst of static through the speakers. “Hello Quackity,” he says, voice deep and tired. “Please step into the portal after I tell you to and then wait on the other side.”

“I know the drill, Sam,” Quackity rolls his eyes. “Just because the bastard was gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how this damn place works.”

“Just going through protocol, Quackity,” Sam replies, and something about this response has Quackity exploding into a brief fit of laughter, the sound grating against Niki’s ears. She feels her grip tighten on Phil’s hand, air caught in her throat.

“Protocol- ha. Whatever you wanna tell yourself, pal.” Quackity smiles, cold and cruel, and Niki tries not to think about how she’d seen that same grin on Wilbur, eyes sparkling from the light of the lanterns hung from the bridges and walls of their ravine, remember how she’d looked into them and realized her old friend wasn’t there, anymore. Quackity disappears into the portal, and after a second, the hand around her own pulls her inside of it too.

On the other side, Quackity taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and waiting- Sam’s voice comes through the speakers again, words clipped.

“Go through the portal,” he says, and Quackity does- once again, they wait for a second for his body to disappear, then go within it themselves, pressed close enough together within its frame for Niki to feel the warmth of a wing wrap around her shoulders for a quick second before they’re out of the hot, stifling air of the Nether and into a large, neatly made lobby of blackstone and quartz. They duck into a corner, watching as Quackity moves towards the front counter, the Warden waiting there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks- tired. His movements are slow, footsteps loud against the floor, shoulders tense and back hunched. He walks around the counter, sword strapped to his belt, and Niki feels her breath hitch at the sight of dried blood still stuck to the blade in patches and splatters.

“He ready?” Quackity asks, holding his hands out - Niki catches a flash of metal as Sam drops something into them, watches as Quackity raises what ends up being a pair of shears, dangerous-looking and gleaming with enchants, to the light.

“Yes,” Sam says, side-eyeing Quackity with a small glare. “You know, it’s supposed to be your job to clean those things off when you’re done with them.”

“I told you, busy day back in Las Nevadas yesterday,” Quackity waves a hand- “I’ll do it, alright? Don’t get all pissy now. What happened to being partners?”

“You said we’d be done with this months ago, Quackity,” Sam sighs, and Niki feels a light tug on her arm as Quackity and Sam begin to walk towards the wall to the right of them, breathes in slow and deep as she follows Techno and Phil towards the others. The wall yawns open with the hiss of redstone firing and pistons pulling blocks upwards, opening into a dark hallway that feels like entering the maw of some sort of giant, insatiable beast. They step inside as one, and the door shuts behind them.

“We’ll be done soon enough,” Quackity says, and Niki feels hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Trust me.”

They stalk forwards through a labyrinth of blackstone, Niki brushing the palms of her hand against her clothes when it goes clammy from adrenaline. Halfway through, she pauses to tip back a second potion of invisibility, careful to keep her movements slow and steady as not to make a sound - the liquid is silvery, cool and light on her tongue, and she lets the effects wash over her with her breath caught in her lungs before moving forward. The tunnels are simpler than she’d expected, bearing little obstacles or checkpoints - Quackity makes a wry comment a second after (“Guard tunnels today, huh? Appreciate the hustle, pal-”) that confirms her suspicions. Despite the potion particles still whirling around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps, too loud in her own ears, they manage to make it forwards without much trouble, entering a large room with a doorway filled completely with a curtain of lava.

“Set your spawn,” Sam says, still stoic, and Quackity rolls his eyes again before doing as told. Niki keeps looking back at the lava flowing past the wall, its heat filling the room and making her already slick palms even worse, and Sam moves to the side to flick a lever, eyes trained on the lava slowly bubbling in front of him.

“Give me your tools?” Quackity asks, and Sam sighs before doing so - Niki watches as he hands over a netherite axe, then potions, then a few raw potatoes that Quackity accepts and puts into his inventory. Sam raises an eyebrow once he’s done, hand tight around the handle of his trident.

“You bring your own sword, today?” He asks, seeming irritated, and Quackity shrugs.

“Sorry pal, I need to make a new one. Guess I’m borrowing yours again.”

Sam sighs again, louder, and hands over his sword as well, watching as Quackity swings it a few times experimentally. The blade skims a little too close to her on one swing and she can’t quite help the squeak that escapes her lips as she throws herself out of the way, feels her heart hammer in her ears as she backs up against the wall. Please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that-

“Quackity, wait.” Sam raises a hand, ear twitching as he looks over in her direction with narrowed eyes. “I think I heard something.”

Oh fuck.

“Well, guess show’s up then,” Techno drawls, and both of them whirl towards his voice, giving Niki enough time to pull her armor back on, scrambling to get her sword and shield in her hands as Phil does the same besides her. Pieces of armor appear where Techno is standing, then a bucket of milk- oh, why must her friends be so dramatic- and Techno’s standing there, smiling sharply, with Orphan Obliterator held loosely at his side. “Let’s get this done, then.”

As one, Techno and Phil blur into action - Techno moves forward to catch the prongs of Sam’s trident on his blade as Phil parries Quackity’s blows with his own sword- they move fluidly, easily covering each other’s backs as the room devolves into chaos. Niki remembers their guidance as she flits in and out of the fight, scoring quick hits to keep the Warden and Quackity off balance while remaining out of range from their weapons, and it’s not long before both of them have fallen with a spray of items and experience orbs scattered all over the floor.

Techno moves over to block off the exposed face of the bed with a block, looking over at the two of them with an uncharacteristically severe expression. “They’ll be back soon- we have to move fast. Niki, you have those fire res, right?”

She nods as she reaches into her inventory, finding the potion’s orange-pink glow and smashing it at their feet. They dive into the lava together, Niki scrambling to keep up, her arms struggling to move through the thick lava, loses sight of both until she flails into something directly in front of her and hands are pulling her up out of the lava.

“There you go, mate,” Phil smiles down at her as hauls herself to her feet, making a face at the feeling of the lava clinging to her clothes. “Yeah, swimming through lava isn’t exactly fun. You good?” She flashes him a thumbs up, and he laughs- “Niki, you’re still invisible.” She flushes pink- right.

A few sips of milk later, she gives him a proper thumbs up, and he laughs, loud and bright. She looks past him to where Techno’s crouched over something- someone, she realizes with a start, in the corner. Dream’s back in prison clothes, ragged and ill-fitting, and he’s curled up with his back towards the front of the cell, shaking enough to be obvious even from where she’s standing. Techno speaks lowly, voice barely more than a deep rumble in the air, almost inaudible.

“You there, Dream?”

She watches as Dream turns his head, looking up with wide, bleary eyes. His hair flops in front of his face, and something within her itches to brush it out of the way. “T-Techno?”

“Yeah nerd, who else?” Techno smiles, and Dream seems to blink awake, drawing himself up with a shuddery breath.

“Techno- it’s a trap- what are you doing here?” he hisses, and Techno gives him a look, deadpan.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a trap- come on, Dream, we’ve been over this by now, bro. You have to know that their traps aren’t goin’ to do anything to me by now,” Techno rolls his eyes, reaching forward to steady his hands on Dream’s shoulders when the other man sputters and struggles to breathe. “Easy, now. Geez, you wanted to prove me wrong about being homeless bad enough that you came back here? We could’ve just made you a house, you know. You didn’t have to go this far.”

“I- they were gonna kill you,” Dream breathes, face twisted up uncomfortably, and his eyes flick past Techno’s face to where Phil and Niki are standing at the opposite wall of the cell. “All of you- they said-”

“And that’s what I thought you’d say,” Techno groans. “Come on, you idiot, I thought you were smarter than this-”

“They were right there, Techno!” Dream fires back, eyes alight. “You- they were right there, what were you thinking, they could’ve-!”

“And my best friend is a necromancer, remember?” Techno shakes his head. “Come on, Dream- Sam and Quackity? You know we can handle them in a fight, especially when you can just revive us if anything goes wrong. You don’t have to do this whole self-sacrifice thing, bro- there’s only so many times I can break into the same prison, y’know.”

“You’re so stupid,” Dream huffs, but he leans in anyway, head just barely settling against Techno’s shoulder. “I- I can’t believe. You’re so dumb.”

“Hey, don’t be sayin’ that to the guy that’s breakin’ you out of prison,” Techno laughs, slinging Dream over his shoulder with an easy motion and laughing harder when it makes him yelp. “That’s just bein’ ungrateful. You’re making Chat sad, man, and when they’re sad they don’t subscribe-”

“I regret this entirely,” Dream says, voice muffled against Techno’s shirt, tone completely flat. “Put me down- you idiot- I’m staying here. You’re worse than Quackity.”

“Rude. Now you’ve really made Chat mad. I demand an apology-”

“Boys, boys.” Niki can’t help giggling, watching the way their gazes snap towards her, rolling her eyes as she moves forward with a few potions held loosely in her hand. “Dream, do you want a health pot?”

Dream seems to deliberate for a second, before nodding at her, expression slightly strained. “...sure.”

“You two can finish your argument after we’ve broken out of the biggest maximum security prison on the server,” Phil drawls from behind her, arms crossed at his chest. “Come on, now, before Sam gets back.”

“Isn’t this the only maximum security prison on the server?” Techno asks aloud, an amused expression on his face - one that only gets worse when Phil glares at him with one ice-blue eye.

“Shut-” he sighs, shaking his head. “You two are chaotic little shits, you know that?”

“Don’t compare me to him, Phil,” Techno complains, Dream mirroring his words with muffled protests of his own, and Phil breathes another drawn-out, long-suffering sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose.

“Niki, give us some fire res please?”

She finds the potion bottle between giggles, throwing it to the ground as she tries to choke down the laughter rapidly bubbling up her throat. “Of course, Phil.”

She looks back at Techno and Dream before jumping into the lava, the two of them once again lost in some sort of argument, Dream draped over Techno’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier now, she notes, and Techno looks looser too - a little less tense, leaning back with a perpetual quirk to the corner of his lip as they fire insults back and forth. This is familiar, she recognizes with a soft twist in her chest, the same way that Phil and Techno can finish each other’s sentences and look at each other with laughing eyes sharing the same memories of the past, the same way Ranboo watches Techno’s every step as he adjusts his stance and lifts his sword and Techno laughs and calls him a main character in turn, the same way she and Phil will settle together on the porch over cups of tea and sit at each other’s sides for hours. The rhythm between them is one well-established, the road well-worn - she imagines them, huddled in this dingy cell for months together, and breathes in slow and deep.

“Come on,” she smiles, making sure to keep it on her face when Dream meets her eyes with wide, startled ones of his own. Dream still isn’t an ally, and isn’t a friend.

But - she watches as he smiles back, something inexplicably warm in her chest - maybe, one day, he could be.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw self harm #tw disordered eating #tw ed #tw sh #prison arc #pandora's vault #tw starvation #c!sam critical #c!quackity critical #my writing :D #> my writing

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

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An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

#Disney au #Disney #rowaelin Disney au #throne of glass #tog #iwsiil #i won’t say I’m in love #rowaelin #Aelin galathynius #Rowan whitethorn #writing #my writing

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dingoat · 3 years

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[I mulled over a few possible options for this one, heh, but after some chatter with @cinlat I realised I could mush some of my ancient Ahuska backstory with half baked future plans with vague species lore/headcanons and string it along into something roughly story-shaped. The whole thing wound up a lot more somber than I’d anticipated, but at least I can always count on Crow to soften the mood!] ---

For the better part of three weeks, she’d been dwelling. What had started out as the most unexpected news conceivable had led to a flurry of unanswerable questions; was the news welcome? Was she excited? Did she care? Did she want anything to do with it? But that had all rapidly died down into a sullen simmering of nerves, as Ahuska struggled with something she genuinely never thought she’d have to face.

She had a family. She’d been raised well, and loved, as far back as she could properly remember. Did she really want to go back further, did she need to know anything about where she’d come from? The thought of being connected to Bothawui in any way made her feel ill, but Crow had gently reminded her, over and over, that this changed nothing.

She was Mando’ad, where family is built on more than bloodline, and having surviving relatives from a life she couldn’t even recall changed nothing.

Having a twin brother changed nothing.

Except that it clearly meant something to… him. And the older one. Two brothers, with families of their own, who’d reached out to find the sister they’d thought they’d lost with their parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know them, but…

“Crow?” Ahuska tapped his arm with a single hesitant finger, but he’d already turned to seek her out. They were more in tune with one another than ever.

“Mmm?”

“I think I… I want you to meet my family,” she mumbled, eyes slipping to the side.

Crow grinned his softer grin. “Ahhh, I think we’ve already been through that part of the relationship. Was a couple years ago now, at least?”

She felt her ears grow warm, but her eyes turned back to him. “With me, I mean. I want you to come with me to… meet the family I haven’t met yet. I don’t know if I even want to call them that yet, I guess, I doubt they’ll want to either once they’ve met me…”

“Oh, psshh,” Crow made to wave away her worry with a flick of his hand. “You said the whole reason they found out you existed was from holos of the business down at the Ve’lora place, right? Not like they haven’t already got some sort of clue about the life you live, and they still reached out.”

“It already feels so weird, though. They’ve known about me… all their lives. They… knew me, a-and mourned me? They missed me, and I’ve just never known… it’s like they’re strangers, who call me a sister. It’s fethin’ weird.”

“I know, I know. And if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll realise that too. All you gotta do is meet them, say hi to them and their… uh, heh. Hey. What are baby bothans called, anyway?”

“Huh? What, I… I don’t think he told me any of their names, I don’t even know how many kids he said they each had…”

“What? No, I meant like… y’know. Do you call them… uhhh, like how little cathar are kits, and…”

Every one of Ahuska’s nerves abruptly vanished, and the series of blinks followed by a hard stare made Crow immediately realise he’d made one of those mistakes.

“Sorry, sorry, I just figured…”

“Babies,” Ahuska said, her tone completely flat. “Baby bothans are babies. Not cubs, not fawns, not kits…” her snout wrinkled a little at that.

Crow’s manner was meek, but the way he squinted at her made it clear he was still trying to work out where exactly the problem lay. “Okay but… don’t… wouldn’t there be some word you use for them…?”

“What, like ik’aad?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Crow brightened as Ahuska offered the comparison, then immediately ducked his head as her expression grew harder still.

“Like ik’aad. The Mando’a word that literally translates to ‘baby’?”

Crow’s grin wavered, sensing a trap. “Ye-es…?”

“Not likaya? Not pe’ninr?” Ahuska continued to watch Crow carefully as she offered the Mando’a for kitten and puppy.

“Well. No. Of course-”

“Of course not!” Ahuska snapped over the top of him, with an emphatic gesture of both hands to drive her point. “Likaya literally means baby cat. Not baby person. Not baby human, or bothan, or even cathar, it’s the word you use for a little cute wobbly baby animal that meows before it opens its eyes. You wouldn’t call some random Mando kid likaya if we were talking in Mando’a, would you…?”

“I… guess not…” To the unfamiliar, it would look as though Crow were simply still grinning, but Ahuska knew the way it’s quality shifted that he was in fact frowning on the inside.

Ahuska took a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her snout. “And just the same, the bothese for ‘baby cat’ and ‘baby person’ are two totally different words. One translates to kitten, in basic, and the other to baby. Just baby. There’s nothing fancy, nothing cute about it, grown-ass men and women aren’t bucks and does or stallions or vixens, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s a good chunk of cathar out there who hate the way the better part of the galaxy pretends their own native words for their kids translate to ‘baby cat’---!!”

Despite her efforts to calm herself, Ahuska’s pitch and volume had rapidly increased, her gestures had grown more emphatic, and her attitude was positively simmering. Crow didn’t even need to tune into the beat of her heart to know he’d struck a hard nerve, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, lifting his hands in an effort to make it clear he was willing to concede. The crease of his forehead knit a little deeper. “I just would’ve thought, of all people, you might… find it kind of cute, at least? Like the way Nines…”

She shot him a look that made him shut up quick smart, then immediately made a visible effort to cool herself off.

“Let me… try and explain it another way,” she said, speaking slowly, her gaze focused inward. “One time when I was little, nine or ten years or something. I was on a trip with my buire, we had to spend the night in an Imperial settlement. We were checking in to some accommodation, just on the outskirts where it was quiet, and… you know buir’ika was a chadra-fan, right? Well, they had me and her go around to the back somewhere, and wait a while in another building. There was a nerf there, a couple of tauntauns, I think a big old varactyl even... one of the tauns had a fawn so that’s where all my attention was. I thought it was excellent, like, some special treat for me, buir’ika sure acted like it was. Anyway, it was a while later that nuvhu’buir… ah, that’s what I called Jinn, yeah? She came round to where we were with all our stuff, a few extra blankets and things, and we built ourselves a bed right there in the hay and spent the night there. I knew she was mad about something, but she never said why, at least not ever to me. I remember falling asleep hearing her and buir’ika talking really quietly together, and I was wondering why she was so upset. Didn’t make any sense to me at the time, since I thought it was… pretty much the best thing ever. I was too little to get it.”

Crow listened quietly, and when Ahuska paused, he didn’t say a word. He just watched her, offering his full attention, and waited for her to go on.

“They made us sleep in the damned stables. It was years later I looked back and realised that. They probably would’ve let nuvhu’buir stay up in a proper room, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Stables, me and buir’ika, just because of our damn faces. So no. No, I don’t appreciate it when people joke about me going to a vet rather than a doctor, or offer me ‘treats’ for being a ‘good girl’. It’s not cute, it’s gross. And that goes hand in hand with asking if my species have litters, or if our babies are called foals, or if we go into heat. Ugh.” She made an ugly scowl at that. “Rule of thumb? If you wouldn’t ask a Mirialan the same question, it’s probably rude as hell to ask a Bothan. Or, y’know. Literally any other sapient species.”

Flushed, Ahuska found herself glancing off to the side, feeling oddly unburdened to have let it all out, and yet also heavy for having to unload to Crow. She knew he meant nothing by it, that of all the beings in the galaxy his intentions were utterly pure. She’d never forget the way he deflected those stuffy noblewomen on Alderaan that time.

She felt his hand envelope hers. “Did you want me to talk to Nines, and get her to let up a bit on the way she-?”

“Nayc,” Ahuska found the answer came easily, even if she couldn’t quite articulate why. “Not to me, anyway. I want to say it’s different, but it’s probably not, really. I dunno. Just maybe give her a poke if she starts on any other bothans with ‘Puppy’, yeah?” “It used to bother you a lot though, didn’t it?”

Ahuska stared out at nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still sorry.”

His chin came to rest over her head, and she closed her eyes as she let her face rest against the comforting curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry too. Not your fault the galaxy is the way it is. I’m just… a little wound up right now, I think. I’m nervous about this.” “Shhh,” he soothed gently, and she let her face fall against the hand he brought to her cheek. “You don’t need to make an excuse for yourself. I asked you something stupid. Can’t promise I won’t again in the future, but I’ll always be ready to listen to you. Mmkay?” Ahuska found herself nodding against his palm. “‘kay.”

“And I’ll be right there with you, meeting those other relatives of yours. And if they turn out to be bastards? I’ll find a totally not-xenophobic way to give them a piece of my mind.”

She made a little snort, and let her arms wrap around him. “And that’s why I love you.”

#dingoat writes #swtor fic #writing prompts #ty ty for asking!!#let's see if I can actually get through the whole lot haha #my inbox #both haunts and inspires #but wow here's some thoughts that have rolled around in my head for some long while #and I know I'm in the fandom minority with a lot of things when it comes to certain alien species #ah well

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buckthegrump · 4 years

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Are You Leaving My Love Behind?

Summary: At lot can happen in five years, but even more can happen in a few months.

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy stuff, mentions of violence, fluff kind of

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: this is for @wkemeup ‘s writing challenge my prompt was “please tell me that isn’t your blood” sorry it took me so fucking long to get it out

2018

“Ok, we’re gonna start trying,” Charlie smiled as his wife, Y/n, who smiled back at him.

“I think now’s the best time, I mean we’re never gonna be really ready, ya know?” She lifted her wine glass.

He lifted his glass to tap against hers. But they never touched. Just as they were about to, Y/n’s fell to the ground and shattered. Charlie turned his attention to the mess she had made while Y/n stared at her hand in horror. He looked back up at her with a question on his lips that was never fully formed.

Painfully slow, they watched as Y/n’s body slowly turned gray then to dust. She looked her husband in the eye.

“I love you,” was the last thing she said before she disappeared.

Charlie sat on the couch watching as the dust particles of his wife slowly fell to the ground.

2023

Y/n was sitting on a couch in a house. Her house, but this wasn’t her couch. The room looked like her living room, but there was something off about it, something different that she couldn’t identify. And it was more than just the fact that the couch was different.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice filled her eyes and relief washed over her. That is until she turned around.

Charlie was standing there with another woman. He looked different, older, tired, still hot though. But it was the other woman that stood there with him that had most of Y/n’s attention. It was the possessive hand on his bicep, and more so the blinding ring on her left hand.

“Charlie,” Y/n whispered, unable to hide the fear and hurt in her voice, “Who’s this?”

* * *

Y/n stared at the snack table in front of her. All the donuts had been sliced in half despite the fact that it was a full dozen and there weren’t even six people in the room. And she highly doubted that anyone else would join, her therapist said that it was a smaller group.

Maybe it was so small because not many people knew about it. It didn’t help that it was in the gym of an old high school that was not only creepy but a little hard to find. Or maybe people were scared off by the superheroes that were sitting around the circle. Even though there were only two of them.

Y/n grabbed two whole donuts silently daring anyone to say anything about it and sat down in a chair. The two superheroes and one civilian sat next to each other and the leader of this grief group sat in a chair that was meant to be the head of the circle. While Y/n had secluded herself from the group.

“I think now is a good time to start,” the leader spoke, “My name is Sarah, for those of us who are new.”

Sarah very pointedly looked at Y/n who was still chowing down on her donuts trying to turn invisible.

“Anyway -” Sarah then made everyone introduce themselves and share something.

Sam and Bucky were here because they’d lost their friends. Y/n couldn’t tell if they were talking about Tony Stark or Steve Rogers, or maybe both. Maddi was there because while she’d just given birth when she got dusted and came back to a child that she didn’t know, which made Y/n feel stupid for her thing.

So she told them that she was just having trouble adjusting to life after ‘the blip’. Which wasn’t a complete lie but at this point, she was much more interested in finishing her donut.

Y/n didn’t talk much the rest of the time and let the others speak and work through their problems.

“Y/n,” Sarah addressed her at the end of group, “Are you sure you don’t have anything you’d like to share?”

“Not this week,” she answered.

And for a few weeks, she would answer the same way and Sarah would give her the same look. As time went on a few more people joined the group until there were a whopping eight people there, not including Sarah. (Still not enough for them to have any real reason to cut the donuts in half, in Y/n’s correct opinion.) Y/n hadn’t really bothered to commit their names to her memory but it’s not like she ever talked to anyone outside of this.

She hadn’t planned on saying much in group at all, she only came because her therapist said that if she continued to come he would bring some of his wife’s baking to one of their sessions. And she really wanted some cookies.

But, earlier that day she’d sat in an office across from Charlie.

“Y/n, anything you’d like to share this week?” Sarah asked as she did every week. She was clearly expecting Y/n to say no.

“I shouldn’t hate Daniella, I know logically I shouldn’t but apparently the smart part of my brain is much smaller than the stupid part,” Y/n said. She almost left it at that just to get it off her chest.

“Why?” Bucky asked. Y/n and he locked eyes for a moment that seemed way too long for the setting there were in before she answered him.

“Why what?”

“Why do you hate her?”

Y/n laughed humorlessly. “She’s living the life I want. I know how that sounds but it’s true. I was dusted out of existence and when I came back apparently it was five years later and my husband, who watched me die, had fallen in love with someone else and asked her to marry him. So you can imagine his shock when I reappeared on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon as if nothing had happened.

“He still wants to marry her,” she could feel the lump in her throat begin to rise and did nothing to stop the tears from flowing. “So he asked for a divorce. And I know that it was five years ago and he’s changed, he had to live through my death. But he didn’t. . . I didn’t change. It’s only been four months since I’ve been back and he didn’t even try.”

She paused but no one spoke. They all sat there staring at her.

“And I know that my problems aren’t half as bad as some of the shit that y’all are going through but I just -” Y/n tried to swallow but it was hard. “Why the fuck does she get my life?”

* * *

Y/n was sitting in a forgotten hallway of the school, yes with the box of donuts in her lap. But she had lost her appetite.

“Ya know it’s considered rude to run off with the donuts.” She looked up to find Bucky Barnes standing next to her. She opened the box and offered him some. He grabbed one of the jelly-filled ones and sat down next to her.

“We were going to try for kids, probably adopt some too, he really loved kids.”

“It’s really shitty of him for doing that to you,” he whispered.

“I lied, he didn’t ask for the divorce,” she admitted, “I did.”

“Why?”

“For the first month, I lived with them. I watched them interact and I -” she paused to compose herself. “He used to look at me like that. It’s not his fault I’m still living in the past. For a week I thought I was pregnant, and I was so relieved when I wasn’t. I don’t think I would’ve kept it if I had been.”

Bucky didn’t say anything and he hadn’t taken a bite of his donut yet.

“Sorry, group is over I shouldn’t be unloading all my bullshit on you.” She began to stand.

“It’s fine I don’t mind,” he told her.

“You’re very sweet, but it’s not like we’re friends or anything,” she smiled down at him.

He stumbled to his feet before she could walk away. “We could be.”

She looked at him expecting to see pity behind his gaze but she found none. What she did find was something that she couldn’t put a name to.

“Ok,” she agreed, “I don’t have many friends these days. Walk with me.”

So he walked her ‘home’ which was more of a temporary living situation. She had always been a babbler, it was something that Charlie constantly said would get her in trouble sooner rather than later. That day had finally arrived.

“I was sorry to hear about your friends,” she said as they walked.

“Thanks,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you miss him? Captain America, I mean. What do I even call him? Captain America seems so formal but calling him Steve Rogers seems too casual ya know?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not like we were dating or anything but I thought -” the nearly forgotten donut in his hand made its way to his mouth. Y/n walked silently waiting for him to continue his thought or change the subject. “I just assumed that we were something different.”

“Were you in love with him?” She blurted and he nearly choked on his bite. “You don’t have to answer that. In fact, forget I even asked.”

“I think so,” he answered once he was able to speak. “But clearly he didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bucky chuckled. “That’s a little harder to explain.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she said as she stopped in front of a dingy motel. “This is me.”

Bucky’s brows knitted together and his lip twinged in disgust. “You live here?”

“Well, I couldn’t really continue living with the happy couple, could I?” She asked. “Good night, Bucky. I’ll see ya next week.”

* * *

Charlie was talking about something to do with the divorce, but Y/n wasn’t really listening.

“Y/n,” he said pulling her from her daydreaming.

“Huh?”

“I know when you’re spacing out, is everything ok?”

Y/n let out a quiet sigh. What a loaded question. But the short answer was no. Of course, she wasn’t ok. How could she be? She was about to get a divorce that she wasn’t sure she wanted. Sure, she was the one who asked for it, but the look of relief on Charlie’s face when she suggested it-

If she hadn’t had said it when she did, sooner or later, he would’ve.

The paper was just sitting there on the table in front of her. The legal side of the divorce was pretty straight forward with a little leeway for Y/n after being gone for five years.

“I’m fine, Charlie,” she said. After taking a deep breath she flipped the pen in her fingers and signed the paper without a second thought. “I’ll see ya around, Ace.”

“Y/n,” he said.

Before he could get another word out she rushed through the doors. She walked faster than she needed to away from the building once she was outside knowing that Charlie would probably try to follow her. Well, at least her Charlie from five years ago would’ve.

She wandered around the city for hours until she found herself outside the high school, that had recently reopened, where the grief group was held. It wasn’t until she saw Sam and Bucky walking towards her that she remembered that it was Thursday and they did have group today. She was also painfully aware of the tear streaks that stained her cheeks.

Sam made a b-line for the high school entrance, while Bucky walked right to her.

“What’s wrong?” He started to lift his had but put it back down at his side thinking better of it. She began to shake her head ready to deny that anything was wrong. “Don’t bother lying to me.”

“I signed the divorce papers today,” she whispered.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. “Do you wanna skip today?” She nodded and he gave her a small smile. “C’mon, I know of something way more fun than dealing with our emotions.”

* * *

Y/n was still crying but now they were tears from laughing too hard. Bucky had fallen on his ass for the seventh time in two minutes. One would think that a highly trained assassin would know how to stay upright on a pair of roller skates.

“Who knew that all they need to defeat the great Bucky Barnes is a pair of skates,” she giggled as she rolled over to him to help him up.

“Keep laughing,” he grunted, “I’m about to get the hang of this stupid thing and lap you so hard.”

“Oh, I don’t think so baby blue.” She offered him his hand, which he gladly took. But once he was standing he instantly almost fell again but Y/n caught him helping him balance. He was gripping her for arms as he steadied himself. He looked up from his feet to her face.

The lights of the roller rink dimmed and the disco ball was the only thing illuminating the floor, some 80’s love ballad started playing, and the rest of the people skating around them ceased to exist for a brief moment.

All the pain that she’d been feeling for that past few months, every thought of Daniella and Charlie, everything, except for Bucky, melted away. And for one glorious second, her heart wasn’t heavy.

But then the moment was over and it all came rushing back hitting her like a semi-truck barreling down the highway.

She smiled and gently prompted Bucky to stand up on his own.

“Here’s your chance hot-shot, get the hang of it and lap me.” She stuck her tongue out at him and skated away from him.

Once she was facing away from him her smile dropped. If she had stayed in that position even a half-second longer she would’ve done something stupid. Like, try to kiss him, which only could’ve ended with him rejecting her. For a multitude of reasons on his end, and she just wasn’t ready for something like that.

The universe was clearly playing some sort of cosmic joke on her.

About an hour later they were walking down the street in the general direction of Y/n’s temporary home but she almost didn’t want the night to end.

“Thank you,” she said bumping her shoulder against Bucky’s as they walked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends.”

She looked down at the ground smiling. He shouldn’t be affecting her like this, she’d just signed divorce papers for fuck’s sake.

“Give me your phone,” she said when they stopped in front of the motel. He handed it over to her unlocked and she put her number in and handed it back. “There, now we don’t have to wait a week to talk to each other.”

“You might regret this choice,” he teased then bid her goodbye.

Later that night she got a text from Bucky. It was some video with the caption ‘I thought you would find this funny.’

* * *

A few days after she signed the papers, she found an apartment that was move-in ready. Things were finally starting to look up for her. She wanted to text Charlie and just talk to him but she restrained herself.

Instead, she distracted herself with social media, and apparently she hadn’t unfollowed her ex-husband because the first thing she saw on Instagram was a picture of him and Daniella. It was obviously some of their engagement photos, and whatever good feelings she’d had, flew out the window.

On a whim, she texted the only friend she had these days. She wasn’t expecting anything to come from it, but about forty-five minutes later Bucky was knocking at her door.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she opened the door.

“I brought treats,” he said walking in not waiting for her to invite him in. He set the brown bag down on her coffee table and sat on her couch. “And there are a bunch of movies that I’ve been told are classics that I haven’t seen yet, so help me catch up.”

She smiled at him as she sat next to him on the couch and dug into the bag of snacks.

They were halfway through the first movie when she was hit with a sudden wave of emotions and she started crying.

“Woah,” Bucky whispered putting down his drink on the coffee table. He turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s my best friend, or he was,” she wiped the tears off her cheeks, “Any time someone talks about getting a divorce they don’t talk about that you lose your best friend. I saw something stupid on the street a few days ago like right after the signing and I wanted to text Charlie so bad. And I had the message all typed and ready to go when I remembered that I can’t do that anymore.

“Not to mention that all my friends pre-blip weren’t blipped away and now they have all moved on and I’m still in the same place I was five years ago.” She looked down at her hands and picked at her thumbnail. “I just - all my life I was afraid of being left behind, and now I have been.”

“Well, I like stupid things,” Bucky said, “so next time you can text me. We’re friends, and I know what it’s like to be left behind.”

* * *

As the week went on Y/n realized a pattern in her behavior. Any time that she found something funny or just wanted to talk to anyone, Bucky was her first choice. She had other friends but Bucky had quickly become her best friend.

Thursday came faster than she expected it to. And for once, she was actually looking forward to it.

That is until she opened Instagram. Charlie had posted again, and it used to be that he would post maybe once every month if that. So him posting again so soon after the most recent one, surprised her a little, but, she could handle Charlie and Daniella being cute in one post.

She was sitting in the chair in the circle while the rest of the patrons trickled in, and that’s when she finally really looked at the post and her heart nearly stopped.

“Alrighty,” Sarah said calling attention to herself, “Let’s begin. Does anyone want to start us off?”

Everyone was silent, Y/n sent a pleading look to Bucky who was across the circle from her. She knew that if no one else started it Sarah would -

“Y/n,” Sarah said as if she could read minds, “We missed you last week. Anything you’d like to share?”

Y/n snorted. “Two seconds before I was turned to dust, my husband, well ex-husband, and I had just decided to start trying for a kid. And now we’re divorced, and his new fiancee is pregnant. Or at least they just announced it, which means they’ve known for a few months. But I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck I did in a past life to warrant this kind of bullshit. Ya know?”

“Well,” Sarah started but Y/n wasn’t paying attention. All of her attention was on Bucky who was staring back at her. His gaze was unwavering. He offered her a small smile, which she returned.

At that moment, something deep inside her sparked back to life. She knew the feeling, she hadn’t had these feelings since the beginning of her relationship with Charlie. She had this feeling of almost despair with the knowledge that she could easily fall in love with this man if she wasn’t careful.

And Y/n was one clumsy fucker.

* * *

Y/n would like to say that she held out for months before she fell in love with Bucky.

It would be a lie, but ya gotta lie to yourself sometimes.

Three weeks had passed since Charlie’s announcement and Y/n hadn’t thought about it in a long time.

No, instead she was spending most of her free time acting like a high school girl who had a crush. When she was in bed at night texting him she would be grinning like an idiot. Or anytime he called her, her heart would skip several beats.

It even got to the point where one time at the support group he said something to her that was mildly flirtatious and her palms started full-on sweating. It was getting ridiculous.

Crushes weren’t supposed to feel like that as an adult. The butterflies in her stomach were supposed to be subdued, her heart wasn’t supposed to completely stop every time he so much as smiled at her. And yet, that’s exactly what she was going through.

* * *

There was one Thursday when Bucky wasn’t at group. He had sent her a text telling her as much, but she’d hoped that he was lying and was going to show up anyway. Because yes, they were friends and hung out outside of Thursday nights, but with the group, they got to see each other every week.

But then she didn’t hear from him for a few days, then a whole week. Which wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, people get busy Y/n understood that. She didn’t start to worry until another Thursday came and went without a word from Bucky.

Y/n was pacing her living room after group and was three seconds from calling Bucky and then the police if he didn’t respond. Then there was a knock at her door.

She opened it to find a beaten and bloodied Bucky standing at her door, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

“I forgot to text,” he whispered, but she was no longer worried about the lack of contact for the past week.

“Please tell me that isn’t your blood,” she whispered.

He gave her finger guns and the weakest smile. “I can’t.”

“Jesus, Barnes,” she pulled him in and closed the door behind him.

Y/n led him to the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked as he watched her sort through everything in the bathroom looking for the supplies she needed.

She glanced at him sideways before wetting a washcloth with warm water. As gently as she could, she began to wipe the blood away from his face. Y/n focused solely on his blood-stained cheeks, but she could feel Bucky’s gaze glued to her.

“Ya know that I’ll take a shower and be fine, I’m a super soldier I don’t need you to patch me up,” he said softly sending a shiver down her spine.

“Do you want me to stop?” She started to pull her hand away but Bucky caught her wrist in his hand.

“No.”

Y/n continued silently cleaning off his face, he hissed when she found a cut on his left cheekbone. She mumbled an apology but then found yet another half-healed gash on his face.

“Is this punishment for not telling you I had to go on a mission?” He teased.

“Is that where you were?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled sheepishly. “Well, now the lack of communication during the week makes sense. But what I still don’t understand is why you decided to forego a shower before showing up at my doorstep battered and bruised? Especially if you knew that you would heal up in a few hours. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll tell you what’s going on next time. And shower before I come over.”

“As long as you come over,” Y/n shrugged.

* * *

Sam was sitting on the couch when Bucky returned to their shared apartment. The grin on Sam’s face didn’t go unnoticed but Bucky was trying to ignore him.

“You didn’t even bother to shower before you went over to her place,” Sam unnecessarily pointed out. “How bad do you have it?”

“I do not have it bad-”

Sam interrupted him with a laugh. “Barnes, she got you acting like a damned fool. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way that you stare longingly at her during support group. And the stupid smile you have on your face anytime she texts you. Not to mention -”

“Ok, ok, I get it. You know I like her.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief. “That’s what you’re calling it? ‘Liking her’? Boy, I got some news for you.”

Bucky sighed and sunk into the couch next to Sam. “I can’t be in love with her Sam. We only met a few months ago. Not to mention she just got a divorce.”

“Well, you were apart of two different fights for the universe with no break in between. Your concept of time and the time you have left on earth has been altered. The timeline that you normally would’ve given yourself doesn’t really apply anymore. And if I’m right, which I am, you’re probably not gonna tell her that you’re in love with her for about 80 years after being on ice for 70 of those years, fighting a war or two and then leaving your best friends with little to no warning. Then somehow making your way back to your friends only to, I don’t know, take off your arm and saying ‘you’re in charge now’,” Sam said only mildly bitterly.

Bucky snorted.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sam said after a moment, “I think that she could be falling in love with you too.”

* * *

Y/n was sitting on Bucky’s couch. It was only the second time she’d been to his apartment. And she was trying to relax but she was trying not to think about the fact that she was falling in love with Bucky.

It was the fact that she was already so enamored by him and she’d just gotten a divorce. She felt guilty. For what? Having feelings? Moving on with her life?

“Steve isn’t dead,” Bucky blurted.

Y/n looked at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Rogers,” Bucky continued. “He didn’t die in the same fight as Tony. He went back in time to be with Peggy, which is his own choice. But it’s like every time I got him back I lost him again, and this time he chose it. I don’t know, I just feel like I’m wanted.”

“I want you,” she said. His eyes were wide when he looked at her. “No, that’s not really what I meant but like -”

“I get what you mean,” he said then whispered, “I think.”

“Do you want pizza?” Y/n asked getting off the sofa.

“We’re not gonna talk about how you want me? Specifically for my body,” Bucky got up and followed her.

“I’ve decided to kill you and then you would be a joke in your community. A supersoldier, taken out by little old me, a human. You have a metal arm, Barnes, why was I able to take you down?”

“Well, I hope that you do well in your life after you murder me in cold blood.”

“It wouldn’t be in cold blood, besides I don’t even know how to throw a proper punch,” she shrugged.

Bucky chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to fight.”

Y/n looked down at the floor with the hint of a smile on her face. “Ok, thanks.”

“But do you actually want pizza?” He asked as he grabbed his phone. Y/n looked up from the ground at him. “Because I could order some and then have Sam pick it up on his way home.”

“Pizza sounds good.”

“Great.” Bucky unlocked his phone and started typing away.

“You’d really teach me how to fight? I’m not coordinated at all, but I’m great at giving people bruises, so prepared for that,” she gave him finger guns.

Bucky chuckled. “Ok, Sam is gonna pick up the pizza and -”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Y/n blurted.

She and Bucky stared at each other silently for a moment. Y/n let out a noise that was halfway between a squeal and a laugh before running towards the door. Bucky grabbed her arm before she got far.

“It’s not fair to tell me something like that and then run away,” he said softly.

“But what if you judge me?”

“I have no place to judge you.”

“I shouldn’t have blurted it at all because now you might feel pressured to say something you don’t mean. Listen if you don’t feel the same way and want to just say friends just tell me right now, I can handle it.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. “What makes you think I don’t feel the same?”

A beat.

The tension between them got so intense Y/n almost couldn’t stand it. For a brief moment, she thanked her lucky stars that Sam wasn’t in the apartment because he definitely would’ve made a joke that ruined the moment.

“Do you wanna kiss me as much as I wanna kiss you?” Bucky asked.

“No,” she said and his face twisted in confusion, “Clearly I want to do it more.”

She cupped his cheeks with her hands pulling him into her. Once their lips met every worry she had about falling in love again went out the window. All the guilt and anxiety that had been building up over the last few months was gone.

The door to the apartment opened and in walked Sam. Bucky and Y/n were still in each other's arms and they stared at Sam who stared back blankly.

“Shit, the pizza,” was all he said before he walked right back out the door.

“Just so there’s no confusion, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you too,” Bucky said.

“Good because that would’ve been awkward,” Y/n chuckled.

#kas4kwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x reader

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 1/10 (Multi) - Juno

Summary: This year’s Great British Bake Off will see some baking for sure, but also a few surprises. Tayce goes into the Bake Off tent determined to bring the winning cake stand to Wales, along with a few Star Baker badges, but her attention may not be on baking for too long as she gets to know fellow baker Aurora, on the same row as her. And judging by the other contestants, Tayce might not be the only one focusing on something other than baking this season.

A/N: This is a DRUK2 group based on GBBO - there are a few ships! It’s also on AO3 with 12 chapters but I will post here with 10 for ease as the first two and last two will are being done together. No CWs for this chapter! I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE - October 2021

It had been Cheryl who had suggested a live react to the grand finale of this season of Bake Off, so the twelve finalists could all gather together, watch the finale, and then the winner’s reaction could be captured on film and put on the internet for the whole world to see. Cheryl hadn’t even been in the cast - she’d been on the previous season - but she said she’d become invested in the season and the bakers so much so that she hadn’t wanted to let them go yet.

And judging by the public’s reaction to her tweet about it, she wasn’t alone.

Pip had mentioned in their group chat that her sister had a big town house in the Wirral, and she’d offered to let them all use it as a base for their live watch. Channel 4 didn’t have anything purpose-built for them, and the filming location wasn’t available, so they’d all jumped at the chance. Plus, Liverpool served as a good mid-point for them all - it saved Joe having to go all the way to Dundee or Ellie having to go to Brighton.

Aurora had marvelled at the amount of space there was once they’d all arrived the previous day. The living room and dining area were one, with a dining table probably big enough to fit a couple of football teams at it; and the kitchen led into the room with an arched doorway. The kitchen itself was enormous too, in highly polished white surfaces that Aurora was terrified to touch with her probably-impure fingers

“Bit posh, isn’t it!” She’d muttered to Tayce.

Pip’s sister and her husband were staying away, and they had the place all to themselves - the twelve of them reunited, with just Blu and Cheryl for company, operating a handheld camera with the intention of sending the finale footage for Channel 4.

As three endings had been recorded back in June, with each of the finalists winning one of the takes, the actual winner’s reveal would be a surprise to all of them, including the three finalists, and ensure no slip ups from the production team.

That didn’t stop all twelve of them worrying. None of them had slept a wink, all of them keeping an eye on Prue’s twitter to make sure she hadn’t accidentally tweeted the winner again. But mostly they’d been together, reminiscing on some of the moments from the season that had made them laugh. All the funny moments, all the tense moments, and one or two viral moments loaded with innuendo.

Not to mention everything else that had blossomed in tandem with nature that springtime.

It had been quite a season. They’d started out as strangers, and now they were so tightly-knit that they hadn’t even entertained the thought that they would possibly be watching the finale without all of them in the same space.

Aurora swilled the glass of champagne that Joe had insisted on pouring for everyone, and watched all of the people she’d grown close to on the season, a peaceful atmosphere in the room as they waited for the finale to start.

Well, not all of them were peaceful. Lawrence and Ellie were being their usual loud selves, jousting with wooden spoons and shrieking as loudly as they ever did - but Bimini was utterly still for the first time since Aurora had met them, laid against Asttina’s chest as they both reclined on one of the sofas, while Asttina raked her fingers through their mullet; and Bimini’s eyes were closed, their lips in a sleepy smile.

Aurora felt familiar hands creep around her waist, a familiar chin rest on her shoulder from behind, and familiar lips at her cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s coming to an end now,” Aurora murmured, her thoughts escaping her unfiltered, as they sometimes did with Tayce at this close range.

“Well, it was never gonna be forever,” Tayce said into her ear. “But we’re all gonna be friends after this, aren’t we! The wonders of technology! Come into the twenty-first century, Rory. We have this thing called the internet, and group chats, and phones -”

“We’re not all just gonna be friends, though, are we?” Aurora replied.

“We’re all just besties, nothing more than that. Rory, I’m joking!” Tayce laughed at Aurora’s horrified expression. “All I’m saying is that this isn’t the end - just the beginning.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but I’m right, you can’t deny that!”

Aurora let her eyes drift around everyone else in the room.

Tia and Veronica who had barely left their corner of the sofa, hands and legs wound tightly together, both with hearts in their eyes and bigger smiles than anyone else in the room as they chatted quietly, simply enjoying each others’ company.

Lawrence and Ellie, wooden spoons still in hand, making the most noise in the room in delighted laughter as they jousted with each other, almost knocking Pip over as she carried in another tray of snacks to lay on the dining table.

Bimini resting against Asttina’s chest as they reclined on the other sofa, Asttina still running her fingers through Bimini’s freshly-dyed mullet, both of them letting out a contented sigh in tandem.

“Yeah,” Aurora murmured, as Tayce held her tighter, “I guess so.”

——

WEEK 1: BISCUIT WEEK

April 2021

Tayce grinned at the cameras as they panned around everyone. She’d given the interviewer her spiel about how much she’d always dreamt of being in the gingham tent and how excited she was to bring the winning cake stand to Wales for the first time in Bake Off history; and a surprising calm settled in her chest, nerves dissipating, at the genuine warm aura from everyone and everything in the room.

At least Tayce wasn’t in full view of the judges right at the front. That privilege was reserved for two people from London, both of whom looked right at home in front of the cameras, although their names were a mystery for now.

It was all very familiar from seeing it on the telly the last eleven years. Immaculate worktops with varnish that shone like glass; the tent walls decorated with bunting and flowers, and the pastel shelves and adorned with china cups; the multi-coloured KitchenAids ready to whisk, fold and anything else - Tayce’s was pure white, while the woman from Nottingham on the bench opposite her had a turquoise one.

Tayce chanced another glance at her; the tight-lipped smile showed a single dimple, and her long blonde hair was tied off her face, but her fingers drummed nervously on the workbench, and she evidently wasn’t as poised as the veneer she displayed for the cameras.

Tayce smiled to herself. It’ll be fun winning this thing.

——

Signature: 24 Iced Biscuits

The best bit of the show when it was on the telly was the banter between Matt and Noel. Seeing them in person, even from a distance away, made Tayce’s stomach bubble with excitement, and she had to cling to the workbench a little tighter to stay upright.

“Well, bakers, welcome to the gingham tent! Back for another season of Prue-Paul’s Baking Race!”

Prue’s sweet smile was complemented by her brightly-coloured glasses and sharp, matching blazer, while Paul’s cool stare lingered on everyone in the room a split second longer than they all would have liked.

“For the signature today,” Matt said, “the judges would like you to make twenty-four iced biscuits. The biscuits can be any flavour -“

“ - but should tell the judges a little bit about yourselves or where you’re from.”

“Where are you from, Noel?”

“Oh, you know, the moon.”

Everyone was laughing, even Tayce; although it wasn’t that funny - but the whole room was dancing with nerves by now, starting to become contagious from the people around her.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

“BAKE!”

Once Matt Lucas and Noel Fielding had declared the immortal lines to the room, everyone was scrambling for ingredients from their bags and the fridges.

Tayce was still cringing a bit at the dragon-shaped cookie-cutter her mum had found in some gift shop near the castle in Cardiff. She didn’t understand why tourists would be making dragon-shaped biscuits inspired by their trip to Wales, but for once she was thankful for tourists. Her friend Cara had customised it a little when she’d seen her a couple of weeks ago, by melting the tail with her lighter, elongating it a little, and extending the jaw and ears to make it look a little more ferocious.

“Can’t have people thinking you’re not breathing fire,” she’d said, passing the cigarette back to Tayce, “otherwise they won’t think you’re competition.”

And Tayce had nodded, holding smoke in her lungs half a beat longer than usual, wondering if she cared whether anyone thought of her as competition. After all, it was Bake Off. The last sabotage attempt there had been a national scandal the following day.

The most unproblematic, drama-free show on the telly.

Nothing was going to happen here.

——

“The judges are coming for you next,” one of the cameramen nudged Tayce out of her thoughts, just as she was measuring out her flour, causing it to fly upwards in a cloud “Just a heads up. Oh, sorry love.”

“Right, right.” Tayce nodded, brushing flour from her face. “What do I say to them again?”

“Just … talk. It’s the first episode. Show them your personality.”

“Personality,” Tayce repeated, nodding. “I’ve got oodles of that.”

“Great stuff. And don’t forget to be doing something bake-ey while they’re coming over.”

The cameraman dodged out of the way to make room for the medical team, running to help the woman in front of Nottingham, who had managed to slice her finger on something already.

“Here they are,” Tayce muttered to herself, taking a deep breath and straightening as the judges, along with Matt and Noel, came over to her.

“Morning, Tayce!”

Paul Hollywood was shorter than he appeared to be, and Prue Leith was taller, but nothing prepared Tayce for meeting either of them. Tayce held her breath for a split second, smiling somewhat mechanically to try to mask the sudden heat in her face.

“Bore da, folks! I’ve brought the weather with me!” Tayce beamed, indicating the heaving downpour of rain that was falling outside the tent; and they all laughed politely.

Tayce momentarily stopped concentrating on the judges and noticed the woman opposite her, turning to watch Tayce interact with the judges. And every time she was describing the perfect quality that her dragon-shaped shortbread biscuits would turn out, she seemed to slow her actions, looking up over at them.

The conversation was light, but Tayce could feel the calm authority of both judges before her, making words freeze on her tongue. It only went on for a minute or two, but Tayce was left feeling as if she should have prepared more.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

The ingredients for her biscuits were mixing slowly in the KitchenAid, the gentle whirr of the blades almost lulling Tayce to sleep as she sipped her cup of tea, before she took out the ball of shortbread dough and rolled it out to cut into biscuits.

“Your accent is so nice.”

Tayce looked up from her biscuits, to see the woman from Nottingham had come over, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaving her hand resting at the back of her neck to play absently with the strings of her apron. Up close, the dimple in her cheek was emphasised as a shy smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Thank you!” Tayce stood to her full height. “This place doesn’t look like Barry Island yet but give it some time!” She leaned against the workbench, tossing her hair away from her shoulders.

“My accent is … well, it’s just … northern,” she continued with a giggle. “I’m Aurora, by the way. I’m so bad at names, I’m sorry, you’ve probably already said yours!”

“Don’t worry, I am too. I’m Tayce. And if I forget your name, well - yeah, same.”

Aurora’s gaze lingered half a second too long as she tested the name on her tongue.

“Tayce.” Her smile widened. “Nice to meet you.”

——

Tayce was terrible at names. She had no idea how she was going to remember who all eleven of these other people were, especially as one of them would be going every week - the pool of people getting smaller and smaller until Tayce would be remaining with whoever else was any good out of these lot.

As the day went on, she started to pick them up.

She had to learn Asttina’s for one, because Asttina seemed to know everyone’s name from the word go. Asttina was one of the two Londoners at the front, and was the only one of the group who had made a deliberate effort to come round to all their workbenches to formally introduce herself during the bake itself, her demeanour confident but her handshake gentle and light as air.

“Nice to meet you, Tayce,” she’d said, with a cool smile that reminded Tayce of a Miss World competition. “Looking forward to tasting all your bakes!”

She knew Pip’s name too, on the bench just behind Asttina, as she’d turned up in the tent wearing elf ears, claiming they were for luck. Everyone had been staring at her workbench, where she’d positioned a tiny blue handbag with a red circle in the middle, saying she took it with her wherever she went.

“I had a sesh with a psychic,” Pip explained to them all as a group of them crowded round her. “She’s a bit of a local celeb in Liverpool, Psychic Sally they call her, but - anyway, she told me to look for a sign in blue and red, said it was from me great-grandpa - and the same day I walked past one of those handbag shops on Paradise Street and there it was, in the window, 70% off!”

“Definitely couldn’t have been a coincidence, Pippa,” Tayce grinned, and Pip shook her head in agreement, but she had a mischievous glint in her eye and Tayce wasn’t entirely sure how serious she was about the whole affair.

Ellie’s name too had become familiar, because of the amount of times the show’s medics would groan it when she managed to hurt herself on something that episode. Ellie herself had been quiet most of the day, seemingly a little shy and evidently the youngest in the room; but she’d bounced on the balls of her feet at meeting Matt Lucas, garbling something about her and her brother doing all the impersonations as kids.

The soft-spoken woman in front of Tayce was called Cherry, and Tayce had found that out because she’d pointed it out to everyone when she put cherry flavouring in her biscuits.

“Does that actually, y’know, work as a flavour?” Tia had asked her when she was explaining it to them.

Tia was another name that Tayce knew, mainly because the woman was so tall and striking. She looked like she’d come straight off a catwalk and wandered into the Bake Off tent by complete accident on her way to London Fashion Week, happening to become covered in flour in the process.

Cherry had huffed. “I don’t know, but you eat cherry-flavoured things all the time! What could go wrong with putting it in biscuits?”

Tia grimaced. “Wait. Have you … never put cherry flavouring in biscuits before? Didn’t you practise at home?”

Tayce couldn’t help but feel a twinge of mirth as she watched Cherry chew her tongue, her cheeks flushing, but her jaw set obstinately. “I know what I’m doing. I can do this.”

“You haven’t even practised this bake? Okay. So how late do the trains run from here to Newcastle?” Tayce had asked Cherry, and Aurora had doubled over in wheezing laughter as Cherry had folded her arms.

“Darlington. Darlington, not Newcastle. And there’s been trains there for nearly two hundred years, love.”

That had just made Aurora laugh harder, clutching her stomach and shaking in silent giggles, leaning on Tayce as Tayce had led her back to her workbench and let her wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing with her biscuit dough.

That was the most important thing Tayce had learned so far in the tent. The woman from Nottingham opposite her was Aurora, and Aurora lit up the whole bench.

When the judges had stood with her earlier, she’d cooed about how much she adored baking everything for all her family - making fairy cakes for charity bakes for work, birthday cakes for her family, tipsy cakes for her best friends for their birthdays, or anniversaries, or whenever they were just feeling crap.

From the smile that she couldn’t hold back, Tayce knew that Aurora was the only person in the room who meant it when she said that she loved baking.

——

“One hour break, folks, and then filming starts for Technical, okay?”

The first bake was over, and Tayce’s shortbread biscuits shaped like dragons had gone down pretty well with the judges. She wasn’t sure if she’d had the best feedback, her nerves kicking in and blocking out most of the other contestants’ comments; but she thought she’d done enough for this round at least.

One of the producers herded them like sheep - or maybe cats, judging by how Ginny had gone chasing after a squirrel they’d seen - back into Norton Hall where they were all staying for the weekends while filming was happening. It was a huge, Georgian manor mouse with ceilings touching the clouds, far more halls than were necessary, and so many excessive bedrooms that each contestant had a room each.

Tayce had half-expected four-poster regal luxury as she’d opened the door to her own, twice the size of her room in her flat; but no such luck - it was furnished sparingly, and all the beds were normal. A small double, she noted. Not that she was likely to get lucky with these master bakers, but a woman could dream.

The floorboards creaked as she crossed the room and flopped backwards onto the bed, gazing at the ceiling, the elation sending a shiver through her skin as she realised again that she had made it to Bake Off.

The Bake Off!

They weren’t meant to change clothes between takes unless they’d made a huge mess with the food, so Tayce just retouched her eyeliner and went back down to the communal room, where most of them had gathered back in the group, polite conversations carrying on amongst relative strangers as they sampled each others’ biscuits.

What a surreal scene.

A group of almost strangers, half of their names unfamiliar, and she was meant to discuss baking with them all.

“Alright, babs?” She heard someone pushing a plate in front of her. “My name’s Ginny, Ginny Lemon, and if you don’t like lemon, well - just skip my biccies, alright love?”

“No, lemon is great,” Tayce forced a smile, taking one of Ginny’s biscuits. “Thanks hun.”

“You’re welcome! Which ones did you make - wait, I remember, the Welsh dragons?”

“Now how did you guess that one?” Tayce raised an eyebrow at them. “My mum’s idea, she was like, do it for the Welsh! So of course she found a dragon-shaped cookie cutter from somewhere. One of the tourist shops in Cardiff. Tourists love dragon biscuits apparently.”

“Oh I know love, I know - speaking of weird biscuits, have you ever tried a Worcester sauce biscuit? I don’t recommend it if you haven’t, but have you?” Ginny shook their head, tutting. “Tastes like shit! Waste of biscuit. Waste of Worcester sauce too, though. Anyway, Pip’s looking lonely without me. Nice to see you!”

And Ginny fled from Tayce’s arm, scurrying back over to Pip. Tayce tasted the biscuit, bracing herself for Worcester sauce, blinking with surprise to find it was actually pretty good, the lemon flavour really tasty, and finding she wanted another.

Most of the rest of the biscuits were arranged on a bench at the back. Tayce picked up another of her own and went down the line, eager to see which had depleted the most.

Gravestone biscuits were the biggest shocker for her - two different sets of biscuits were there, iced to resemble gravestones, mostly untouched - but Tayce politely picked up the better-looking of the two and found a lovely chilli kick to it when she tasted. But gravestones weren’t the only common theme - two different rose patterns were there, one set iced in different shades of pink, and the other with a deep red icing. The pink roses were almost all gone, and Tayce took the second-to-last one, enjoying the raspberry flavour, and grabbing one of the other roses to go.

Tayce peered around the room at the other contestants from her vantage point at the table. Most of them had dropped into twos and threes - with twelve people it was bound to happen - chatting amongst themselves, quietly and politely for the most part, although the two Scottish women in one corner were laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Eventually, she joined Aurora, who was talking to someone whose white-blonde hair and pencil-thin eyebrows looked very familiar …

“Joe Black,” she said, extending a heavily-tattooed hand to Tayce, whose stomach flipped upon hearing the name.

“You’re - on Instagram, that woman -“

“My internet infamy precedes me, but in that case I hope so too do my bakes, and of course my sense of fun.” Joe’s voice was theatrical, her gestures affected; but her smile was warm, and Cherry looked as enamoured with her as Tayce was feeling.

“And who wins the biscuit version of the wars of the roses?” Joe continued, pointing down at the two rose-shaped iced biscuits on Tayce’s plate. “Lawrence, or Veronica? I must say, the amount that Veronica worried about her own bake, that time probably could have been spent thinking up a better biscuit flavour than rosewater, don’t you agree?”

Tayce glanced at Veronica’s biscuit, then up at Aurora. “Does it taste that bad?”

But before Aurora could answer, they were interrupted by “Alright, babes! How’s it hanging?”

The woman joining them had rich violet hair scraped off her face into a bun at the crown of her head, and an intense green stare. Tayce took the hand that was extended to her, finding a firmer handshake than Asttina’s, trying to follow the stream of words from this woman’s mouth.

“I’m Lauren, but you might as well call me Lawrence, that’s all Ellie’s been calling me all day, thinks she’s fucking hilarious, and I’ve not really met any of you yet because, you know,” Lawrence paused for breath, waving her hands, “baking contest, ooh I’m not here to make friends, et cetera, but now that we’re all here and we’re not baking right now, I thought I’d better find out who everyone is! Are you the one who made the dragon biccies?”

“That’s me, baby!” Tayce grinned. “Bore da, bitches!”

“See, I knew you were Welsh, and there Ellie was trying to convince me the dragon biccies were by someone who just really liked Puff the Magic Dragon, she owes me a tenner now - and you’re - oh wait, I know you!” Lawrence wagged her finger at Joe, whose expression didn’t change apart from the slow blink. “That Instagram video!”

Joe fixed Lawrence with a stare. “Yes, that Instagram video; I know that precedes me, but I hope by the end of this competition that can be eclipsed by my culinary skills.” Her voice still kept the throaty drawl, but Tayce was starting to sense her irritation at the association.

Cherry had already offered her hand to shake, and Lawrence took it. “Alright, I remember your name, because you put it in your biccies as flavouring! Where’re you from, do they grow cherries there?”

“No - I’m from Darlington.”

Lawrence blinked, frowning. “Darlington, near Sweetie-shire is that?”

“No, it’s near -“

“I’m joking babes, I’m joking! I know it’s - hey, hey Ellie!” Lawrence stopped to shout to Ellie, who had evidently reappeared. “Els! It’s not Puff the Magic Dragon! Where’s my tenner? Hey!” And she was gone in an instant, Tayce turning to watch her chase Ellie as she scurried out.

“Anyway,” Joe continued, motioning to Tayce’s plate and one of the gravestone biscuits, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying mine! I know my sense of humour is a little … ah, morbid, but I didn’t count on being one of two people with this bake, let me tell you that!”

Joe glanced over to the left out the sides of her eyes; Tayce followed her gaze to Pip, oblivious, making herself a cup of tea.

“She didn’t - like, you don’t think she -“

“Oh, no, not in a month of Sundays! But it’s a strange little coincidence, isn’t it? The viewers will love the drama!”

Joe opened her mouth wide to let out a violent cackle, a sound that might have made a shiver glide down Tayce’s spine if she hadn’t been mid-biscuit.

——

Technical: 8 Wagon Wheels

The Technical challenge was the first time Tayce felt her nerves return in a rush.

Everyone had identical ingredients and an identical recipe, but nothing prepared any of them for whipping the gingham cloth from them all and flipping the instructions over. Tayce ran her pencil down them, her head spinning.

On the first read, she recalled nothing.

Focus.

She took one steadying breath, letting go of as many nerves as she could, and then ran her pencil back down the list, jotting down timings and a couple of notes. They only had an hour and a half; precision was key.

On her right, Aurora was fidgeting with her apron, twisting her hair around her finger, before grabbing as many bowls as she could from the drawers and setting them all down ready.

It almost felt like more pressure, rather than less, having no judges in the room - just Matt and Noel, and they couldn’t really interact with the bakers at this point, mostly just talking amongst each other and having to film occasional silly quips for the television interludes.

You’re not gonna get this finished if you keep looking at Matt and Noel!

So Tayce mentally blocked out everything and anything around her, not taking her eyes off her workbench. Instructions, ingredients, whisk, repeat. Oven, timers, filling, cooling, done.

She barely remembered anything else that happened in the room.

As she put the last wagon wheel on the tray to take to the front, she wiped her brow, took a swig of tea, and then heard the immortal lines.

“Bakers! You have one minute to go!”

Tayce looked around the room. Tia, three desks ahead, was looking flustered, covered in flour from head to toe - a difficult feat when you were six feet tall - and Veronica, just behind her, was rounding the corner to help her move the biscuits over to the tray one by one as she spread on the jam and marshmallow fluff. Bimini, who Tayce was sure had finished about ten minutes earlier than everyone else, was doing the same thing for Asttina, leaning over her workbench and talking soothingly to her as they both moved biscuits around.

On the other side, Ginny was rubbing Pip’s back, trying to help her load wagon wheels onto the tray but only succeeding in knocking the handbag to the ground. Ellie broke two of her wagon wheels by dropping a palette knife on them, her squeak causing Lawrence to turn from her bench and put her hands on her hips.

But Tayce felt an unexpected wave of relief when she saw Aurora finishing her own biscuits right on schedule, stepping back with a sigh, rolling her head and her eyes to the ceiling.

They had to bring the biscuits to the front table, and put them behind their respective photographs for blind judging. Looking at the other biscuits on the bench, Tayce nodded to herself in satisfaction. She definitely wasn’t the worst. The photos were all a blur, but there was definitely one disaster, chocolate and marshmallow oozing; Ellie’s broken biscuits; and another tray with a biscuit missing.

It was easy to breathe a sigh of relief for herself.

“Just get into any order,” the producer said, pointing to the stools that had been set in front of the table, “but don’t sit directly behind your photo. Otherwise it just looks obvious.”

Tayce’s biscuits were second from the right, so she bunched towards the left, and found herself between Aurora and Joe. Joe had pretended to trip over her feet while carrying her own biscuits up, cackling gleefully at Veronica’s pained expression as she watched. Veronica, mercifully, had sat as far from Joe as she could.

Aurora was breathing rapidly next to her, and Tayce gave her a nudge with her knee.

“Chill girl! Relax! It will be fine!”

Aurora nodded, but said nothing, focusing on trying to breathe at a normal rate once again. Tayce could practically hear her heart hammering. She nudged her again playfully, and Aurora nudged her back, taking a deep breath out and seeming to calm from then.

Once Prue and Paul were back, Tayce grew a little sleepy. The judging went on for much longer than on telly, and tent was hot from all the baking and warm bodies, plus Aurora’s knee jogging rhythmically was enough to make her feel a little drowsy. Her biscuits were second to last, and Tayce wasn’t really focusing on any of the other critiques as they went down the line, not even those of the two women on either side of her.

She hated tents. They reminded her of camping. This one wasn’t like any of the camping tents, propped by firm wooden walls and decorations but it still reminded her of trips to the Gower when she was at primary school. And thinking of the Gower made her think of day-tripping to Tenby, where the air was hazy with salt and fresh fish, and the sea was far too cold as they skimmed stones, watching them bounce once, twice, three times …

A nudge at her side from Aurora brought her down from her reverie; blinking, Tayce saw the judges had reached the biscuits behind her photo, looking up expectantly to see who would claim them.

Oh, yeah. It’s the Technical, and I’m here to be judged.

She raised her hand, realising that she’d been in a dream so long that she didn’t even know what place the judges had called her for.

“Tayce - good flavour, biscuits had a good crunch, and the chocolate has set well; it just wasn’t quite filled enough.”

Nodding and smiling, she waited for them to move on to the next person before she leaned over towards Aurora, muttering from the corner of her mouth “Where did they put me again?”

But before Aurora could answer, Paul spoke up. “And in second place, we have -“

“You came third, you bitch!” Aurora whispered, her mouth open in awe, and she looped her hand into Tayce’s and squeezed. “How do you do it? You always look so put-together! Not like - Miss Second-Place down there.”

Tayce glanced at Veronica, right at the end of the line of bakers on their stools, whose hand was raised to claim second place. She was nodding earnestly at the praise, but she still wasn’t smiling, her lips tight and her other hand still quivering a little in her lap.

“That means that first place goes to - Asttina!”

But Aurora hadn’t let go of Tayce’s hand, and Tayce was suddenly more aware of that contact than whoever the winner was, even as she slowly drew her hand away for the polite applause that followed.

“Where did you come?” Tayce asked her in a whisper.

“Seventh. Not great. I over-baked them a little bit,” Aurora shrugged. “I’m never gonna be good at technical.”

——

“Congrats on coming top of Technical!” Tia clapped Asttina on the back as they came back into Norton Hall, and Asttina responded with her winning smile.

“Thanks, babe. I thought you all deserved a taste of what I can do!”

There was a collective amused murmur around the other bakers at Asttina’s slightly smug tone. Tayce grinned, staying silent for now, wondering what the others would have to say to that.

“Oh, there’s more to come, is there?” Tia continued.

“I should hope so.” Asttina licked her lips. “From all of you lot as well.”

“There’s no need to be cocky,” Veronica said, the first time any of them had really heard her speak. Veronica was tiny, with blonde hair and a nasal voice that was louder than any of them had expected; most likely feeling the sting of coming second.

Asttina shook her hair back. “I’m not cocky, Veronica, I just know what I can do. Read the CV, it’s all there! If you want to win stuff, you need to know yourself. Do you want to win?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Veronica retorted.

It was Tia’s snort of laughter that started them all off, diffusing the vague tension creeping into the room. Asttina’s laugh was only drowned out by Veronica’s as she realised what she’d said.

“Is the Pope a Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods … I know, I know. I mean, yeah, I definitely do want to win.”

Asttina shrugged. “Then there’s no point being modest about what you can do. Let your bakes do the talking!”

One of the producers came in at that moment, motioning for them all to come round, and they all bunched together.

“Alright folks, the day’s filming is done, we’ll begin tomorrow at nine sharp for the Showstopper challenges. Until then you’re free to relax and have a nice time - please don’t go into any areas marked as Private, and no excessive drinking, but otherwise, have a good night!”

“Thank you!” They chorused, clapping for some unknown reason, as some of the staff rounded up the leftover biscuits and cleared them away.

“The filming crew get them,” Veronica explained to Tia, “I asked earlier what happened to them all because I knew we wouldn’t be able to eat them all.”

“You know what this means?” Cherry said, addressing them all from on top of one of the sofas. “This is the last evening we’ll all be together. Let’s all cheers to the cast of GBBO!”

She pulled a bottle of something from her bag, and the rest of them grabbed a mug each, sharing out the gin Cherry had brought, and bringing all their drinks together in cheers.

——

Showstopper: A gingerbread sculpture of a place that makes you nostalgic.

The Showstopper was about as broad as you could get. Everyone seemed to have something different in mind. Bimini and Asttina, on the two front benches, looked as poised and confident as they had all the previous day; and Asttina, buoyed by her Technical challenge win, puffed her chest in pride.

Tayce had practised her gingerbread over and over, but nothing prepared any of them for being in the tent, where the pastel colours and the novelty of the bright, friendly conversations started to switch to a competitive edge.

Especially after the Technical, where they had all been ranked. Having a number against your name now, combined with a vague grade against the Signature challenge, meant the Showstopper was the be-all and end-all for some of them.

That was it Tayce thought to herself, as she watched Aurora’s grim determination pass her face every second.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Cherry, on the workbench in front of her, had come sixth; but she’d been much quieter all morning, concentrating on reading and re-reading her instructions, tapping her pencil against her chin and growling frustratedly every now and then.

Ellie, wearing a pair or Pip’s elf ears, was doing even worse. Being ranked eleventh had done very little to ease the nerves she had displayed the day before, and her morning had already started with another blue plaster on yet another finger.

But Aurora was the only person Tayce was concentrating on. Something about the way she’d held her hand … and Tayce was far too quick to let her mind run away without her, thinking it meant anything, when obviously it probably didn’t.

“What are you doing?” Tayce called to Aurora over the chatter of everyone else around the room; but Aurora didn’t reply, her tongue running over her lips as she surveyed the mess that was the butter and sugar mix before her.

“Aurora?” She asked, making her way to stand by her behind the bench.

Aurora was still silent, but the noise from the bowls and KitchenAid she was using spoke volumes for her without her needing to say a word.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” Tayce asked her eventually, waiting for the curt nod from Aurora before sprinting to the tea station, in a tent outside.

When she got back, Aurora had moved up to Ellie’s workbench, and even though her back was to Tayce, she could see her shoulders shaking and Ellie’s hand rubbing her back, before offering her a can of the Monster she always had to have, the label covered in masking tape to escape product placement.

Tayce approached them both to comfort Aurora too, but as she did, cameras zoomed in on all three of them. Aurora pushed them both away and walked out of the tent, covering her face.

Ellie looked from the camera to Tayce and then back again, confused more than anything, and Lawrence, turning from her bench, looked back at them all with a frown.

“What’s going on here? Is she alright?” Lawrence pointed to Aurora, who was busy wiping her tears away in the far corner, with Matt Lucas at her side and a camera in her face.

“No,” Tayce muttered, “and she won’t be while there’s a lens on her.”

After that, Tayce kept half an eye on Aurora as she baked. She mostly ignored the cameramen as they hurried around the tent, taking stock footage of them cutting gingerbread shapes, using their ovens, and decorating, but Tayce purposely kept her mouth tightly closed, and her expression firmly neutral.

As Noel called for ten minutes remaining, Tayce was finishing the detailing of the roof of the stadium. The band were meant to be playing biscuit instruments and there was meant to be a crowd, but Tayce had settled for calling it a backstage pass moment, where VIPs could meet them, and just made models of herself and her friends.

“Time is up! Bakers, step away from your bakes!”

Noel called time, and Tayce took a step back to properly admire her finished product - and really, she was blown away by her own bake. The gingerbread houses she’d made in practise had gone alright, but this one, even in the pressure cooker environment of the tent, had gone almost perfectly, down to the timing of the bakes.

“Wow,” Tayce whispered to herself, “week one is done!”

She took a few seconds to admire everyone else’s in the tent. Some were much better than others. Joe’s looked a little strange - she’d meant to do a wedding scene with the gingerbread church, but the roof was crooked, and the gravestones falling over, not supported by the sticky sugar mixture they’d all used as adhesive. Cherry’s ambitious building was incomplete, and Tayce didn’t even know what it was meant to be.

But Asttina’s was incredible - a beautiful beach scene with a model of a beach hut and even a Ferris wheel. Ellie’s technical slip up was definitely repaired by the pub she’d built, adding fondant banners inside and making the dull gingerbread colours come alive with her imaginative take on the icing outside; while Lawrence had made a theatre, melting jelly babies to create beautiful stained glass in the windows, something Tayce kicked herself for not thinking of.

They all had a chance to leave the tent for a break, to sit outside in the shelter, and to have a breather before the actual judging of the bakes was done.

“I don’t envy the judges,” Joe said, her drawling voice awed, as she took in all of the gingerbread houses from their vantage point outside the tent. “They definitely have their work cut out for them, don’t they?”

“Everyone did amazing,” Aurora nodded, “it’s just a case of who did less amazing. D’you reckon they’ll just take this into account, or the whole weekend?”

Tayce didn’t know why she was worrying. Aurora had come middle of the pack in technical, but had been praised for her Signature, and her gingerbread house - modelled on her Nan’s, she had said - was so prim and dainty that Tayce knew the judges were going to eat it up, and not only literally.

“It won’t be you, chillax!” Tayce reached to rub her hand.

“Who d’you reckon it will be then?”

“Well, they tend to take into account the numbers assigned at the Technical challenge, and the Signature comments, to make the first analysis, at least,” Joe chuckled, “that’s what we see on the television. Who were the bottom three for Technical? I was tenth, Ellie was eleventh, who was twelfth again?”

“It’s - erm,” Aurora pointed, but the name escaped her for a second. “Tia. Tia was twelfth.”

“It’s probably between the three of us, then,” Joe said brightly, “unless something goes … horribly wrong to one of the Showstoppers. And how likely is that?”

As they looked through the panels of the tent, one of the gingerbread houses collapsed into pieces onto the tray it was set on.

Tayce glanced around the other eleven bakers to see whose it was.

One of the bakers had her head in her hands, shoulders tensed, while the two people on either side of her hugged her tightly.

——

“Seriously, Joe, how did you make that happen?” Aurora’s voice was hushed, tense, after the award for Star Baker and the first elimination had taken place.

Joe’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I don’t quite know - maybe it was just something, spoken into the universe, made to happen.”

“Or maybe it was just gravity and shitty caramelised sugar sticking it all together,” Tayce added.

“Yes,” Joe replied, “or that too.”

Joe, Ellie and Tia had all survived their stint in the bottom at Technical - but Pip, who had come ninth in Technical, and whose Signature had received mediocre feedback, had laughed behind gritted teeth at presenting her collapsed gingerbread house - “More of an Ikea house,” Paul had commented cheerily - which had ultimately turned out to be too hard to bite into and had sealed her fate. Not even the lucky elf ears saved her from the first elimination.

“I was so sure I was going home this week,” Aurora sighed later that night, back at Norton Hall, where everyone had eaten so much of each others’ gingerbread houses that they all felt ill.

“You wouldn’t have, yours was good!” Tayce rubbed her arm. “Relax! It’s done now. Just focus on next week instead.”

“And I can’t believe Prue said she’d like to try a bit of carpet when they were looking at Ellie’s pub,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Did anyone else catch that?”

“Yeah, I did!” Tayce sniggered. “They’re so innocent! This is just gonna be a load of innuendos all season, isn’t it? Imagine what they’re gonna say for next week too.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s cake week, isn’t it?” Aurora seemed to perk up. “That’s a bit more my comfort zone.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Asttina was led back inside the area by the cameraman and a producer. Everyone broke into applause - this time genuine, not the muted, polite sound that had echoed round the tent in the technical. Asttina had just given her winner’s interview and called her family, and now wore the Star Baker badge proudly on the lapel of her jacket, her grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“How did your mum react when you said you were Star Baker this week?” Bimini asked her.

Asttina smiled the warmest smile any of them had seen all weekend from her at the mention of her family. “They screamed so loud that you probably all heard it in here. My mum was falling off the sofa, my dad was waving a wooden spoon, my brother was banging on the floor with his feet - oh, it was great.”

“Well-deserved, babes,” Bimini nodded, and Asttina pulled them in for a hug.

Everyone else was clamouring around Asttina, congratulating her on her Star Baker win this week and admiring the badge she’d won - biscuit-shaped, or at least cookie-shaped - but Tayce hung back, exchanging a glance with Aurora, a glint in her eye; and both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Let’s not cross Joe Black. She might make our Showstoppers crumble.

——

ELEVEN BAKERS REMAIN

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kirbyofthestars · 3 years

Note

I know you’re not feeling very well right now, but could you maybe share some rock kandi headcanons? I’d love to hear more about them!

please stop encouraging my self-indulgent nonsense. but also please keep doing it. i didn’t mean to make this so long i’m so sorry aksdjfhjfkjgk

🌸 pince fuck looks up to them both in the sense that he loves adventuring and they’ve got lots of experience with that sort of thing. which may not be the best thing ever because kirby and ribbon are both horrible influences on the dude. please stop them.

🌸 kirby has zero impulse control. fluff is a voice of reason and ribbon is a terrible, terrible enabler. none of them are particularly smart within the common sense department and they all end up getting their mitts into stuff they shouldn’t far too frequently.

🌸 alien blush. kirb’s is hot reddish-pink (crystal shards rly said DIP their ENTIRE FACE in RED when GIRL), fluff’s are shimmery turquoise patches, ribbon’s is an iridescent bluish-violet that makes her freckles pop like little stars. owing to their nature as puffballs (well, "puffball” in fluff’s case) both kirby and fluff have bioluminscent blushies :]

🌸 fluff is a huge clean freak, hates sticky/slimy things and getting dirty, and keeps himself and his surroundings very neat. kirby is a semiferal child who happily rolls in dirt, sleeps in the woods and eats stuff they find on the ground without a second thought. they engage in lighthearted bickering over it sometimes, in which ribbon mediates or eggs them on.

🌸 ribbon adopted Test Tube Kitty back when the 64 gang visited shiver star. fluff is kind of afraid of cats/felines for two primary reasons; the first being that scarfies in patchland are unkillable airborne death machines, and the second being that he’s,,,, yknow. he was absolutely TERRIFIED of ttk at first, but he warms up to her after a while. he likes knitting her ridiculous sweaters and she likes to chase his whip.

🌸 the first time she visits patchland, ribbon is incredibly fascinated by beads. all the currency is so bright and colorful and sparkly and perfectly cut like tiny jewels. she’d probably collect some and take a handful home with her as a souvenir, and to remember her partners whenever she’s away :>

🌸 fairies go by a variety of names on a regular basis, as per custom, so ribbon comes up with plenty of nicknames to call her partners as a form of showing affection. sometimes cute (bee, cottonball) and sometimes childish and immature (gumwad, pwincey)

🌸 ribbon loves honey, as is typical for the fair folk. she’ll eat it straight out of the jar with a spoon. one of her favourite kinds of honey is the rich, sweet, polyfloral stuff from weird woods, so it’s common for them all to go out together to collect it. as it turns out, ribbon does not love buttonbugs.

🌸 fluff overworks himself a lot, even though he doesn’t really have to - he’s just precocious and committed and stressed out about whether he’s going to do a good job ruling or not. the others act as his emotional support, bring him food and tea, drag him away from his books if need be, bug him to rest or otherwise take breaks (sometimes via bribing with cuddles), etc.

🌸 kirby is very soft and affectionate with both of their partners, even before they start dating. plenty of hugs, holding hands, smooches, etc. when they hold hands he’s usually squished in the middle, with their partners on either side.

🌸 fluff has decided he does not like being in the washing machine all that much (turbulence is uncomfy), but he does like to vibe in clothes dryers because it’s Fun. he’s already soft and huggable like a teddy bear but fresh out of the dryer his coat gets especially soft and fluffy. n kirb + ribbon adore it.

🌸 ribbon brings kirby and fluff neat little trinkets she finds. shiny stones, cool sticks, fabric swatches, etc. it’s her love language. she also makes / brings them food often, esp. baked goods. it’s the subject of plenty of jokes because Y’know.

🌸 kirby loves gushing about + complimenting their partners to anyone who will listen, and hypes them up whenever they’re feeling down. look at my datemates!!! they’re so sweet and wonderful and smart!!! they’re my best friends!!! i love them so much!!!

🌸 fluff is easily flustered and kinda touch starved because of how stubbornly independent and kind of aloof he tends to be most of the time. he freezes up a little whenever Affection happens. hug him or squeeze his hand or give him a tiny kiss on the cheek and he will immediately Melt.

🌸 in general, puffballs are soft and cuddly like plushies and their purrs are very gentle and soothing. ribbon is very lucky.

🌸 they’re all trans. all three of ‘em. good for them!!

#kirby #prince fluff #ribbon #rock kandi #long post #AGAIN #I DIDNT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SO LONG IM SO SORRY #aaaaa #i get anxiety abt posting abt my ships unprompted but #i do love talking abt them v much #whenever i get an ask asking abt pairings/requesting hcs for said pairings i go 🥺💕 !!!!!

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httpsfelicity · 4 years

Text

“In a black dress, she's such an actress” - Harry Styles × Model Reader AU

Summary - Harry meets a model downtown and falls for her quickly, leading the public to think that it’s a pr stunt. Unsure of what to think, the reader plays along, not knowing that Harry is unaware of the rumours.

For @cruizmanadu! Xx

A/N - Okay, this is my first official request type thing so please tell me if it’s good or not! Ignore any mistakes, thought I think I looked over it pretty well. Also, if you’d like a part 2 / have suggestions / ect, just send a DM or ask! Here you go babes, hope you like it x

“If I don’t get coffee right now, I’m going to pass out on this sidewalk, I swear,” moaned Ella.

“We’re almost there, calm down,” you responded as you adjusted the shopping bags in your hands quickly. You and your best friend Ella had decided to go out in NYC for the day, which of course meant loads of shopping. Hell, half of the bags you were carrying weren’t even yours - Ella had a shoot the next day, and insisted that she couldn’t carry her bags out of fear that she’d mark up her hands. So you were carrying enough bags to “Mark up your hands”, according to Ella. Which, to be fair, was quite unfair, because that girl shops a lot.

“Hey, can you take some of these, just until we get there? I’m getting kinda-”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She lowered her voice and leaned in towards you. “Don’t look yet, keep walking, but some guy is totally checking you out.”

You sighed. “How could the paps have found us? I thought we covered our tracks nicel-”

She cut you off once again. “No, no, not a pap. This guy, he’s, well - okay, look to your left riiiight... now.”

You quickly glanced over to see a guy in his 20′s wearing a multicoloured knit sweater with messy brown hair, looking in your general direction. He quickly looked away when he saw you. You looked away, which was unfortunate, because you would’ve seen him gathering up the courage to walk over to you two.

"He's pretty fit," you whispered back quickly. "Do you think he recognizes me?" It sounds very stuck up, but often times people tried to hit on you solely because you model for the big brands, so you had to be careful. Being in the industry had a lot of pros, but a lot of cons as well. Not knowing who your real friends are were one of the cons.

"I'm not sure," Ella replied.

Just then, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw that you were face to face with the boy.

"Hello," he started nervously. He had a charming British accent, you noticed right away.

"Hi!" You replied, waiting for him to say something totally obnoxious or fan-like.

"This probably sounds weird, but I couldn't help but notice you."

"Oh, why thank you!" You laughed. "He doesn't seem too creepy or weird or stalker-ish," you thought to yourself.

"Yeah, so, um... This is weird as well, I'm sorry, but could I get your number?" He smiled weakly.

"No, absolutely not," said Ella, grabbing you by the arm and starting to drag you away. "C'mon."

She only walked a few feet until you broke away and went back over to him. "I'm sorry about that - of course you can."

His nervous expression eased away the tiniest bit. "Oh, that's great."

He handed you his phone, and you typed in you number."

***-****-****

"I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Styles."

"Oh! I'm y/n."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"I work in the modeling industry. You might have heard of me from that?"

"I should've known you were a model - you've definitely got the looks. And I'm sure the personality as well."

You grinned.

"I'm a singer," he continued. "I used to be in a band - now I'm solo. So that's one thing we have in common, I guess. Well, not really. You know what I mean."

"You're right!" You laughed. "He's pretty easy to talk to," you thought. Even though you didn't want to, you could feel Ella staring at the back of your neck impatiently, so you decided to wrap up the conversation. "Well, I've got to go, but you'll message me later, yeah?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Well, goodbye for now, y/n."

"Goodbye, Harry Styles."

"What was that?!" Ella asked once he was out of earshot.

"What? He's polite and cute. Of course I have him my number!"

"He could be a creepy obsessive fan! Or a perv! Or a crackhead! He's just some random guy on the streets, for all we know!"

"Would you calm down? He's so nice - I just know he wouldn't do that. Plus, that sweater is awfully expensive. Almost 2k."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure."

"Oh, and he's a singer."

Ella snapped her head to look at you, clearly very shocked by this statement. "He's what?"

"A singer, apparently."

"What's his name?"

"Harry Styles."

"Oh. My. God. My friend had a shoot with him once! He's popular, y/n. Really popular."

"God, you sound like a middle-schooler."

"I'm just sayin'! But now that I know this information, I've changed my opinion on him. GO FOR IT."

"I was already planning on it," you laugh, walking past a group of starstruck thirteen year olds quickly. "Although I'm not so sure. I didn't get his number - it's up to him to message me."

"He'd better," Ella replied as the two of you walked into a local café. You nodded in agreement, and you both walked up the the register to order.

The rest of the day was a blur - you went to a few more stores, and then eventually hailed a cab and went back to your apartment. You were so exhausted that you kicked off your shoes and flopped into your couch, too tired to even eat. As you lie there, you felt your phone vibrate in you pocket. Reluctantly, you pulled it out slowly, and clicked it on.

***-****-**** - Hello.

Your first though was, "It's Harry!" Your second thought was, "That's a very ominous introduction." Nonetheless, you typed up a response.

Y/n <3 - Who's this?

***-****-**** - Harry, from earlier hahah x

You let out a sigh of relief - he had messaged you back, and it hadn't been some rando. Things were working out nicely.

Y/n <3 - Well, hello!

While you were waiting for a response, you set his contact name up. You hadn't gotten a photo of him yet, so you decided one from Google would do. You typed up "Harry Styles", and the search results shocked you. Ella was right - he was popular. And cute (But you already knew that.) You got a notification from him, so you screenshotted the first photo to come up (Him in a very nice pink top), set it as his photo, and then went back onto messages.

Harry Styles - Hi! I'm sorry if the whole encounter earlier was creepy. Your friend seemed quite worked up over it.

Y/n <3 - She's had bad experiences like this in the past.

Harry Styles - I've had quite a few myself, honestly. Don't blame her. Anyways, how are you?

Y/n <3 - Exhausted. All that walking must've worn me out, hahaha

Harry Styles - Hahah, that's New York for ya.

Harry Styles - Would you happen to be free tomorrow?

Harry Styles - I'd love to get to know you.

You grinned at your phone screen. This could not be happening.

Y/n <3 - Nope! Free all day. I'd love to get to know you too!

Harry Styles - Does 1pm at the Beachwood Café work? :)

He sent a location along with it. It was the same café you and Ella had gone to earlier.

Y/n <3 - Sure!

Harry Styles - Alright, talk then?

Y/n <3 - Yes!

Harry Styles - Goodnight.

Y/n <3 - Goodnight!

Seen - 11:34pm.

The next day you woke up at 10 so you would have time to get ready. You got a quick shower, did you hair, makeup... By 12:30 you were dressed and ready to go. Casual, but not too casual was what you were going for. You were pretty sure you had the look down pat. You grabbed your stuff and made your way downtown, sunglasses on.

You arrived early, 12:48pm, but luckily Harry was already there, waiting at a table near the back with two menus. He waved once he saw you, and jumped up to pull out your chair.

"Hello," you smiled.

"Hi!"

"I adore your outfit," you said as you sat down. He was now wearing a white and blue striped shirt and tan jeans. Somehow he made it work.

"I love yours as well! The skirt brings out your eyes."

You tried hard not to blush. "Thank you!"

"So, I guess we should start getting to know eachother, then?" He grinned.

You nodded. "20 questions?"

"Sure. Full name?"

"Y/n."

"Harry Edward Styles."

"I like that middle name. Very sophisticated." He laughed at this. "Age?"

"26."

"23."

"Favourite movie?"

"Clueless."

"Back To The Future."

You continued asking questions until the waiter came over to your table.

"I'll have the chicken sub," he said politely.

"I'll have a medium lemonade."

"Is that it?" Harry asked.

You sighed. "And a blueberry muffin, I guess."

The waiter wrote it down and walked off.

"I'm on a diet," you explained.

"Still," Harry shrugged. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I started modeling at about age 8, for this clothing bran-"

"No no no, I meant about you."

You gave him a confused look.

"Not about your job, you!"

"Okay, well, let's see... Uh..."

"I'm 26, but you already knew that. I live in New York, obviously. I used to work in a bakery, even though I just told you not to talk about your job. I like playing football, I write, and I enjoy baking bread. See? Easy."

You laughed. Why did he have to be so... Charming?

"I'm 23, but you already knew that. I've lived in New York my whole life. I read a lot, and I mean a lot. I have a ton of plants in my apartment, since I can't really have a garden here. I like Taylor Swift's music."

Harry nodded. "See? That wasn't so bad."

You laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Just then the waiter placed the food on the table, and you took a sip of your lemonade while Harry dug into his sub.

"I dated Taylor for a pr stunt once."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She got a few songs, I got a new story to tell during interviews."

"Oh. Did you like her?"

"Nah."

You laughed again. "Oh, my."

"Yeah. I haven't had many actual relationships. 3."

"I haven't had any."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not many guys are interested. Or, well, interested in me, you know?"

"I find that hard to believe."

You tried not to blush once again as you took a sip of your lemonade.

"Well, it's true."

"Personally, I think you're great."

"You are too!"

The two of you continue eating. After two minutes, Harry speaks up.

"Want to go back to my apartment and watch a movie? In a non weird way, of course."

"Okay, that sounds good. Which movie?"

"Clueless?" He winked.

You grinned. "Of course."

You get up and walk out into the streets of New York, leaving your blueberry muffin on the table.

The walk to Harry's is very short. You two talk the whole way there, mainly small talk, but it isn’t awkward at all. You feel like you can be yourself around him - whatever that means. To put it into words, you feel comfortable around him. Which is weird, because you just met him a day ago, but it feels right for some reason.

Eventually you arrived at the door to his apartment. While he was busy digging his key out of his pocket, you took a glance up and down the hallway. This place was much fancier than you had expected. It made your apartment complex look cheap. Everything seemed so... posh. Harry pushed open the door, and you stepped inside. His apartment was decorated with art; albums of artists you’ve never even heard of were hung on the walls, and potted plants were everywhere. It was messy, but in an organized way.

“I just need to run to the washroom, make yourself at home,” he said as he kicked off his shoes.

“Alright,” you replied. You put your coat on a coat rack (Obviously) and walked over to the couch. Unsure of what to do, you decided to check twitter. After a few seconds of contemplating if checking your phone right now was rude or not, you decided to turn on your data and do it, since he was in the bathroom and you were bored. You looked over you shoulder, then hit the trending page. Politics, Ariana Grande - she must be releasing a new album - #TGIF, and... Harry Styles? Without thinking twice, you click on it. Immediately, photos of you and him pop up from when you were walking back to his place. That was only a few minutes ago... how did these photos get out so soon?

“You ready?” Harry asked as he entered the room, holding up a DVD case with an excited look on his face.

“Yep,” you said, putting down your phone. A second later, you picked it back up. “Did you see twitter?”

“No, I don’t go on social media much,” he replied as he popped the disc into his bluray player.

“You’re trending.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean... we got papped on the way back here. Look.” You turned the phone so he could see it.

He took a glance at the screen, then grabbed a remote and flopped onto the couch next to you. “It doesn’t really bother me. Happens far too often. I mean, unless you have a problem with it. I can get them taken down, if you’d like.” Suddenly, his usual relaxed self has replaced with a worried one.

You shook your head. “No, no, I... just letting you know. I don’t care. Besides, I didn’t see many people talking about it, just sharing the photos.”

“Oh, well, if you change your mind, just let me know,” he concluded as he turned on the TV.

You nodded, and then focused on Cher Horowitz on the screen. You didn’t watch much of the movie, because you and Harry kept on cracking jokes and telling stories, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Eventually, it was time for you to leave, since it was nearly 5pm.

“Do you want me to walk you back? Or, I could call you a cab,” Harry asked as you slipped on your shoes.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, I’ll walk you back,” he insisted as he grabbed his coat.

You weren’t about to argue with him, because, let’s face it, you secretly wanted him to walk you home. So you followed him out the door and to the elevator.

You talked the whole way there, but you were distracted just a tiny bit - you wanted to keep an eye out for paps. Eventually you decided that it was difficult and pointless, so you fully engaged yourself in Harry’s conversation on how to make a mean loaf of bread.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your place.

“Well, this is it,” you grinned sadly.

Harry nodded. “I’ll message you later?”

“Of course. We have to do this again, you know.”

Harry smiled wide. “Sure. I’d love that.”

“Well... goodbye, Harry.”

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, y/n.”

You stared back at him, starstruck, but he turned and started walking down the hall before you could say anything. “Love ya!” You called out quickly before you shut the door behind you, unsure if he even heard you. Oh, well. He’d message you later, anyways.

You were quite hungry by this point, so you decided to order Chinese food off of Postmates. Once that call was made, you sat down and opened Twitter again. You noticed that you had way more notifications than usual, but you decided that could wait until after you checked the trending topics once more. “Harry Styles” was still trending, but even more surprisingly, “Y/n” was right underneath it. You decided to hit Harry’s topic first - MORE pap photos came up, this time from when you were walking home. Wow.

“We do look like a proper couple.” You thought, though you quickly shook it. You’d just met - although you know what they say, “Love at first sight” and all that crap.But no.

You decided to scroll down even further, past all of the photos and to the actual tweets.

@Harryscherry77: Is @ yn Harry’s new girlfriend? If so, she’s soooooo lucky.

@Y/nsclouds: Why is y/n being papped with Harry Styles? She can do much better. His music isn’t even that good.

@Lightsuplouisx: I ship it, tbh {Insert photo here}

@TaylorxxxTea: Oh cute, another pr stunt :/ #HarryStyles IsOverParty

@GalacticY/N26: Ugh, Harry? Really? I’m seriously gonna unstan Y/n, I’ve been considering it but this is just the last straw for me.

@HarryIsUpAllNight: Did you guys know the girl Harry was papped with is a model? She’s absolutely gorgeous, I wouldn’t doubt it.

@Stylesfangirl49: Y/n is honestly so ugly. #RunHarryRun

@SummertimeNewsOfficial: Has Harry Styles been spotted with yet another woman, months after his breakup with Camille? {Insert Link Here}

@Larry2020xxx: Another beard LMAOOO c’mon. PR STUNTTTT.

@Lola33smith: They haven’t even been confirmed dating yet, calm downnnnn.

“Wow,” you thought as you continued scrolling. “This is not what I was expecting.”

It seemed like the whole internet had something to say about a few lousy pictures of you and H. There was good and bad, though it felt like the bad outweighed the good. An alarming amount of people seemed to think it was a pr stunt. Wow. Your notifications weren’t much better - loads of people had followed you, dm’ed you, called you worthless, called you amazing. It was a lot to handle. Just then the doorbell rang - your Postmates. How long had you been looking through all of that? It didn’t matter now. You went to get your food, then sat back down and began to text Harry. Suddenly, you stopped. If he got so worried about the first set of photos, not to mention you walking home by yourself, how would he react to this? He had said he doesn’t go on social media much, so you figured that as long as you didn’t tell him, it would all blow over quick enough and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. You didn’t want to stress him out. Instead, to take your mind off of this chaotic day you turned on The Office and tried to regain a sense of normalcy.

Although the more you thought about it, the less and less you wanted Harry to message you.

“PR stunt.”

EDIT: CHAPTER TWO IS NOW OUT! CLICK HERE

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pixieungerstories · 4 years

Text

Captive - 9

Hi Readers - I hate to be like this, but if you love this story, please go here to subscribe. I’m not intentionally neglecting the free content, it’s just getting overlooked right now. My next book deadline in Nov15 (2020). Normally, it’s just me writing for me and you get the benefit from that. This time Podium Audiobooks has me under contract for second book in the Mistaken Universe.

Also - if you have the time - the occasional gentle reminder is appreciated. Today’s post is brought to you by @dizzy-poncho who sent me some love and made my brain realized I hadn’t posted in a while.

The sound of someone pounding on the door was less than an ideal way to be awoken. As was the kitten, who had up to that point had been curled up behind her knees, screeching and bolting. Elly glanced at her watch, she had managed maybe four hours of sleep. The person on the other side of the door pounded again. Groaning, Ellly got to her feet, stomped over to the shop door and wrenched it open.

“What?!”

The church ladies were clearly taken aback by her tone. They stared at her in stunned horror.

“The sign says we’re closed for the day.” Elly announced.

“I just need-” Posy started to say, but Elly interrupted.

“You need to come back tomorrow.”

Posy narrowed her eyes, “I could just as easily order my yarn off the internet instead, you know!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Elly replied sadly. “Good day then.” She then closed the door on the women’s shocked faces. She leaned against the door for a minute and groaned before rallying the strength to head upstairs. On her way she nearly tripped over the reappeared kitten.

“Jesus, cat! Learn some self preservation!” Elly scolded as she scooped up the tiny thing. The kitten clamored up her arm to her shoulder and settled in for the trek upstairs. Elly tried to remember where she had stored Mitten’s cat stuff. In all likelihood she probably gave it away when she figured her cat had been eaten...Well she’d need to take the kitten for vaccinations anyways. She could pick up whatever she needed then. First thing on the list, a bell collar.

Well, that could be second. The first thing she needed was a name. Elly wondered for a moment if George would want any say in that. The thought could wait. First she needed a nap, or possibly a whole lot of coffee. Likely both.

Ben was just staggering out of the spare room when Elly got back to her apartment. “Shit, boss, I am late getting started this morning.”

Elly sighed, “We are closed today. How are you feeling?”

Ben shrugged, then rubbed his bleary eyes, “Slightly hung over, possible still a little drunk, and baffled that you have a dragon living in your basement.” He looked at her face and frowned, “Did you sleep last night?”

Elly shook her head again, “Not really. I napped.”

Ben winced, “Was that my fault?”

Elly shook her head again, “I was up too late and started getting creeped out by the sounds of the house settling.” Ben really did look awful. “Right!” she announced, making him wince again. “Big glass of water, a couple of aspirin and back to bed.”

Bean groaned, “I would roll my eyes at you except that they feel like they might fall out of my head if I tried.”

Elly snickered under her breath and went to the kitchen for a glass.

“So tell me about George.”

She froze. This was awkward. “I think you should ask him about him. Carefully. I don’t want to offend the dragon in my basement and neither do you.” She filled the glass with water and handed it to him. As Ben drank the water she pulled the aspirin out of the spice drawer.

“Does he breath fire?” he asked, lightly, trying to make a joke.

Elly pursed her lips as she considered that. “More like belches fire, but he can adjust his body temperature to heat the building.”

“You are fucking kidding me!” His eyes went wide as Elly shook her head. “Holy shit.” It was said reverentially, whispered almost like a prayer. Ben took two steps to the left and sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

Elly gave him a sympathetic look. “I am honestly unsure if this conversation would be better once you are sober. It could turn out to be worse.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Are you planning on quitting?”

“Why would I quit?” Ben asked with a frown.

Elly frowned right back at him. “Because there is a dragon in the basement. And if you tell anyone, they will just think you’re delusional.”

Ben considered this. “You won’t. Think I’m insane, I mean.”

“I’m not really the best judge of sane, Ben.” She sounded sad when she said it.

There was a long moment of tension before the kitten stropped up against Ben’s leg, causing him to curse and stand up fast enough to knock over his chair. It hit the ground with a clatter and the kitten bolted.

“Was that Muffin?” he mumbled, looking sheepish as he picked up the chair.

Elly frowned, “You mean Mittens? No. George brought it home last night.”

“Like a present? That’s sweet.” After a moment, Ben added “And a little weird. Where did George get a kitten?”

“He said someone killed its mom and littermates. He was vague on the details and I didn’t push. He would have told me if he wanted me to know.”

Ben shivered, “Yeah. I was picking up my spice delivery at the post office last week and overheard the Debbie from the pound saying it was less killing cats and more a plaque of cat mutilations.”

Elly went very still. When Ben finally looked up and met her eyes, she whispered, “Are we talking disemboweling here?”

Ben blinked and stared at her in horror before nodding. “How did you know that?”

Elly spun on her heels and fussed at the sink, giving it a wipe before putting the kettle on the hob. “George was unusually circumspect about what had happened. I couldn’t figure out why, he isn’t usually shy.”

Ben snorted, “I can see that about him.” He watched her face, it was easy to see the wheels turning, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. “If someone is hunting cats, it might be safer to take … um. . . her? Or him? Whatever, take the kitten to a vet a couple of towns over. If you are keeping it, I mean.”

Elly gave him a puzzled look, “Of course I’m keeping it.”

Ben fought a smirk, “You sure? Have you named it yet?”

Elly considered this. “Nyx, goddess of night.”

Ben snicked, “Really? What if its a boy?”

Elly rolled her eyes, “Ben, I’m not going to enforce gender roles on a kitten.”

Ben just shook his head. “Fine, but when we go to the vet, you get to drive.”

----

The vet proclaimed Nyx to seem perfectly healthy and old enough for vaccination and FIV testing. They booked her in for a spay in two weeks. Next stop was the pet store.

Ben picked out an adjustable purple collar and neoprene cat harness. Elly gave him a look. “What? You can harness train cats it you get them young enough. I follow Suki Cat on instagram!”

Elly blinked, “Huh. I never would have picked you for a cat person.”

He smirked, “Stupid cat videos is what the internet is for.”

“Really? Because I suspect most people would say porn,” Elly teased, then was surprised when he blushed. She managed to fight the urge to comment on that, and while she was wrestling with her morals, Ben left to go look at cat carriers. Nyx meowed and tightened her tiny claws into Elly’s shoulder where she was sitting.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “That was rude.”

Ben just waved her away. “More unexpected. I haven’t seen that side of you. You are very, um, professional.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment. When he realized she was frowning slightly, Ben flashed her a smile. “You are a great boss, Elly.”

Elly coughed, “I’m not actually your boss, you know.”

Ben blushed again. That was new. “Any preference on cat food?”

Realizing he was trying to change the subject, Elly turned to face with wall of food. “Wet food for cats. I’ve never had one do well on kibble.”

“Did, um, your other cats sit on your shoulder like that?”

“Nope, this is a first, but she seems to like it up there.”

They watched each other awkwardly for a moment. Elly broke first. “Ben? Are you OK?”

Ben quickly turned his head to the right and scoped out the litter boxes. “Ina wasn’t that fun to work with,” he admitted. “Most of the time you are. Weird, but fun. I’m starting to understand where the weird comes from. And now I know that too. How do you go through your day knowing something like that?”

Elly sighed. “Ben - Look, tell me about yeast.”

“What?”

Elly rubbed her eyes, making Nyx meow and dig her little claws into Elly’s sweater. “You told me that yeast for bread used to come from beer, then the beer yeast changed and there was a shortage, right?”

Ben frowned, “Yeah, brewers switched from top fermenting to bottom fermenting and that process didn’t make the byproduct that bakers use. But what does that have to do with George?”

“How many people do you think know that?”

“Elly! It doesn’t matter! People knowing or not knowing about yeast doesn’t actually matter!”

Elly just raised an eyebrow, “How does knowing about George matter? Yeast is way more practical on a day to day basis.” Ben stared at her like she was insane. Elly kept talking, “Most people, including me, would consider baking bread or spinning wool or knitting a weird and slightly esoteric hobby. George is just one more weird bit of trivia that you now know.”

#Monster #dragon boyfriend #the captive #exophilia #Novel #monster boyfriend

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once-upon-a-scenario · 4 years

Text

The Pillars with Pets; Part 2 of the Modern AU

:D __ Mitsuri -so Mitsuri actually wanted a dog of her own so bad and took the first opportunity to get one -she adopted her bab from a shelter -originally, she was thinking more along the lines of a small, floofy dog -like a Pomeranian, maybe, or a poodle -but -b u t -look. The huge, ambiguously mixed dog was. Right there. And she had such big, sweet eyes. -‘twas love at first sight -Aki-chan is an older dog and has a limp, but she shares her owner’s zest for life -together, they’re so full of energy that it’s downright terrifying -but in the best possible way! -Aki-chan gives the best slobbery kisses. Aki-chan is always there to wake Mitsuri up with happy barking in the morning. They cuddle together at night. -Aki-chan is an absolute sweetheart but considering her sheer size, she acts as a very effective deterrent for folks who are just plain Not Nice to Mitsuri -it’s like…the dog has a sixth sense for when her owner is uncomfortable or sad -Mitsuri likes to knit sweaters for Aki in the wintertime -they don’t always fit quite right but it’s fun! -also bakes Aki dog treats at home -tends to want to share food with her; has to remind herself that feeding dogs human stuff isn’t generally that good of an idea -(however, Aki will inevitably end up getting a few tidbits when Mitsuri’s cooking/baking) -(only the stuff that’s ok for her to eat, though!) -also also Aki is exactly That Kind of dog, the type that you’d think only appears in animated movies -the type that matchmakes -she does that 101 Dalmatian thing to Mitsuri and this cute brunette dude they met at the park -(y’know, the whole “lol hoomans I am apparently the only one smart enough to notice the chemistry between you so I shall tie you together with my leash until one of you breaks”) Obanai: -I mean he canonically has a snek -Kaburamaru is a pure boy -Iguro first got his snake as a teenager, when he was still living with his family -it was the only true gift he was ever allowed from them -his home life…was not the best -he hated his parents and siblings and used to dream of the day he’d be able to leave -moved out as soon as he could afford it with Kaburamaru in tow -he loves his noodle all the more because snakes live long lives; Kaburamaru’s been with him through thick and thin, through all the bad times in his life -and Iguro moved out, he really was Iguro’s only friend -at this point, Iguro treats him more like a person than anything -he’ll sit next to Kaburamaru’s enclosure with a book in hand and chat to him about how ridiculous the plot is -will sometimes just let the snek boi out and let him wiggle around his neck while he does other stuff -hates social media but will post pics of the noodle -it’s all his Instagram has: -Aesthetic pics or cute videos of Kaburamaru just chilling -hates his neighbors and will answer the door with Kaburamaru on his shoulders + talking to the snake just to freak them out -kids in the neighborhood spread rumors that he’s a ~witch~ -he literally doesn’t give a damn as long as they leave him alone lmao -the reptilian equivalent of “Crazy Old Cat Lady” -funny thing is that he isn’t particularly fond of animals in general -Kaburamaru is, he’s decided, his first and last snake/pet -has heart attacks on the daily once he starts dating this really wonderful woman who owns a heckin dog, and a huge one at that. Iguro is not used to animals that shed. -also dog-proofed his house at first out of paranoia that Aki would eat his snek -(though he later warmed up to her and decided to trust that she probably wouldn’t lol) Uzui: -has two ferrets -one is cinnamon, the other is white -white bab is named Momo -cinnamon bab is named…Chanel -(can you guess who got naming rights on Chanel) -(hint: it was not one of Tengen’s wives) -the ferrets were bought because everybody in the household wanted a pet but nobody could agree on what animal they were going to get -(Tengen wanted a bird, Makio wanted a dog, Suma wanted a bunny and Hinatsuru wanted them all to shut up and actually do some research) -eventually, they somehow came up with a combination of the desired pet traits and decided that ferrets were the best fit -anyway Momo & Chanel are spoilt rotten -they live the most Expensive, most flamboyant lives a pair of ferrets could possibly live -Suma thinks they’re adorable and babies them -Makio loves how energetic and spunky they are -Hinatsuru is just quietly affectionate. It’s so cute to watch the rest of the family coo over them -Tengen considers them his children -he is the pet owner who dresses up for Halloween with them -(once he and the other three went as pirates with the ferrets as their parrots ack I hate that that rhymes lol) -and makes them Instagram famous -is probably considering dedicating a Youtube channel to them as well -it’s like -bruh -how obsessed could you possibly be with a pair of small furry slinkies -(very obsessed, apparently) -Chanel & Momo: *exist* -Tengen: fucking superb, you flamboyant little goblins :D -shows them off constantly to his friends -it was especially bad for the first couple of months after he got them -not that the showing off has died down over the years, the others have just…gotten used to his dramatics by now -tbh usually somebody (probably Hinatsuru) would stop him, but the other three are also too obsessed with their babies to be Mature about it Sanemi: -“Maybe I’ll get a dog,” Sanemi said to himself -“Other animals are kinda stupid and not my thing” -“Hi,” said Fate, dumping a betta fish in a plastic cup on his doorstep. “Will it work if I try to appeal to your soft side?” -Sanemi is r a g e -what kind of bastard just dumps a living fISH on a stranger’s doorstep -bro -wtf -he’s so angry -hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh -well, he keeps it in that plastic cup on his kitchen table, because he has *no clue* what to do with it -tries to call a few people and make them take it -fails -he stares furiously at the fish a little more before starting to feel uneasy because…can it…really survive in such a tiny cup -buys a cheap secondhand fish tank and some fish food that’s apparently for bettas -(Genya: no, see, this one’s specially for betta fish Sanemi: wtf is the difference) -posts stuff on social media “is there any sad shithead out there willing to take a stupid blue fish” -some people answer, Sanemi makes it clear that they have to chat with him first before coming to pick up the fish because he’s not a *monster,* he’s not gonna send the creature to a neglectful owner -turns out, he hates every single candidate. Or maybe he’s just…getting really knowledgeable about betta fish. Maybe he’s joined a group for first-time betta owners. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe he bought a new tank and new food and the betta is actually starting to look kinda perky and flashy -(Siamese fighting fish. It’s a fighting fish. It’s Fierce. Sanemi…does not dislike it. It’s kinda rad.) -Come to think of it. He did own stag beetles as a kid. Maybe dogs aren’t the only pets worth owning…? -the betta is eventually named Dragon, he gets a big tank, balanced diet, and a Marimo mossball friend, and Sanemi becomes a fish expert despite the fact that he swears this is “temporary” -(Shinobu, dropping by for lunch/to antagonize him: lmao right a ‘’’temporary’’’ tank that you decorated yourself and ‘’’temporary’’’ bloodworms in your freezer and ‘’’temporary’’’ smiling when you come home and your fish swims out to greet you) Himejima (warning: a little sad compared to the others. Some brief mentions of death/loss and grief) -has a seeing eye dog -she’s a black Labrador named Nana, and has been living with him for a few years now -they’re honestly a perfect match -Nana’s a sweet, steady dog and is good company for her owner -when she isn’t working, she’s pretty content to amble around the house and/or snuggle up to Gyoumei -having her has had a huge positive influence on him -he wasn’t exactly in the best state, emotionally, after losing his kids all those years ago -it took him a while to heal -and Nana’s presence grounded him throughout -she kept him from kind of shrinking into himself -at his darkest moments, Gyoumei might have preferred to reject help, even when his friends came to call -but Nana always barked happily and ran up to the door to welcome visitors -she’d whine and wake him up in the mornings -offer a ton of slobbery doggy kisses -it helped him open up again, little by little -Gyoumei is of the opinion that Nana was his main teacher in relearning how to trust people -he occasionally organizes playdates for her with Aki and Mitsuri -Mitsuri also knits matching sweaters for Aki and Nana -she sometimes throws in a sweater for Gyoumei, too -Nana is often bamboozled by Gyoumei when he prays or works out -hooman -hooman what are these strange and repetitive movements that you do -hooman why do you sit still with your hands together and ignore me -it’s kinda funny how she gets confused and starts sniffing Gyoumei or nudging him with her nose -though Gyoumei no longer truly requires encouragement to get out of bed in the mornings, Nana still makes a point of waking him up with kisses -and nuzzles -and doing this weird thing where she puts her paws on his cheeks like she’s trying to cup his face in her ‘‘‘hands’‘‘ lol -it coaxes a rare smile out of Gyoumei -Nana’s existence in general makes him smile

#Kimetsu no yaiba #Demon Slayer #kanroji mitsuri #himejima gyoumei #iguro obanai #uzui tengen #shinazugawa sanemi #headcanons #imagines #pets #modern AU #obamitsu #I have no first hand experience with seeing eye dogs #so please let me know if there's anything inaccurate!#Mod Eve

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

Note

yes hello may i please ask for snippets or not!fic of Nicky and Joe

Well hello there, friend!

You have asked for things I would love to gush about for forever because these two with the owning of my heart?

(Disclaimer: I’m not sure how ~in character/canon any of this would be because I’ve not had time to read the comics yet, but anyway!)

Also, this is totally going to be rambling not!fic so I hope that’s okay?

But just imagine being neighbors with Joe and Nicky, you know?

These two nice young men who are either really good friends or really good friends *wink wink* , if you know what I mean?

I’m totally imagining them having this nice little apartment somewhere when they’re not with the team or that year they reference in the movie where apparently they weren’t hero-ing about as a team?

At least one (1) little old lady in the same building and of course they help her with the groceries and errands, fixing things around her place that break that would take the landlord forever to get to. (And probably hire someone who’d do a terrible job of it.)

Sweet young men, and you know there would be all these jokes from them about this little old lady making them feel old because she’s taking a class for whatever hip, new exercise trend is making the rounds at the time at the community center a few blocks down and they’re yet to step foot in the place themselves and so on.

She’s delighted/blushing because such sweet young men? Meanwhile Joe and Nicky are sharing this look over her head because lol, if only she knew?

And of course she laughs and swats their arm all, you rascals, as they escort her up to her apartment after running into one another in the lobby or whatever.

Joe’s carrying her groceries and Nicky’s all :D at her - not flirting, goodness no, Joe would get jealous, he swears.

But also, okay, also.

Single mom with a kid in the building (I’m going hard on my fave cliches/tropes, sorry) and they help keep an eye on the kid when they’re around and the whatnot?

Like when Single Mom and her kid moved in there’s sort of kind of a basketball court out back? But no one’s used it in years and it’s a mess. The net/chain from the net is long gone/rusted away and the paint on the court is faded and it’s more the kind of place people toss stuff too big to haul off to the dump without renting a truck and why bother with the hassle when they can set it there and just...forget to do the thing they told themselves they’d do one day?

So, yeah.

And it’s like.

There’s this day where the kid’s out back practicing ball control or whatever, and every so often you can hear the ball get away from them because wow, yeah.

The surface of the court’s a little torn up, cluttered, crowded and there’s not enough room to do much without running into junk.

This little moment where they’re watching a movie or a show or whatever and that sound over and over and this well clearly someone has to do something kind of moment between them expressed in looks and eyebrows, right?

Maybe they’ve been hero-ing on the side or whatever, small, local things because I sincerely doubt they’d just not if there wasn’t a dire reason for it, you know? (Someone actively looking for them, and even then...yes.)

Anyway, anyway.

There’s a home improvement store not too far away and they have coupons, discount vouchers, whatever from fixing up their own place.

(I really want there to be at least one (1) hidden compartment/sekrit hiding place because much weaponry, and sure, let’s put this one in America because reasons? But also seriously suspect.)

Not asking too much to use those coupons/vouchers on stuff to fix the basketball court up, repaint it and put up new net/chain if not replace the baskets completely.

Weekend project that may take longer than anticipated if the team goes out to hero or whatever, but it gets done.

Has some of their neighbors getting curious enough to see what they’re doing, and then it’s a group project.

The kid is like !!! and cautiously hopeful about things because hey, you know, it’s nice of them and all? But also why? What do they get out of it?

Little Old Lady bakes cookies and the whatnot and someone brings lunch and it’s just a lovely bonding moment for everyone in the building.

AND THEN.

When the basketball court’s back to its old glory there must be a basketball game?

Vicious game of H.O.R.S.E. at the very least, and of course Little Old Lady takes part.

There’s an unspoken agreement to take it easy on her because little old lady? But then it’s revealed she used to play professional basketball, and also Joe and Nicky are sweet and all?

But they’re sloppy players, and then scores another letter without breaking a sweat and then it’s back to the way H.O.R.S.E. should be played. (No-holds barred cutthroat style. Except for maybe not so much because kid? But yes.)

Little Old Lady teams up with the kid against them once the others drop out - because picnic the building set up and it’s a nice day and idk, happy funtimes and people enjoying one another’s company while Joe and Nicky get utterly destroyed at H.OR.S.E.

These and other lovely shenanigans?

But also that time a Baddie tracks them down.

Because of course it has to happen, right? Not necessarily someone who knows about the whole immortality business so much as some hired goon with an axe (lol) to grind and they’re the asshole’s target?

Or maybe it’s a new baddie who’s head of the team and some operation of theirs or an ally’s the team fucked up but good, and decide they can’t let that stand.

Joe and Nicky happen to be the ones they find first - luck or whatever else - and it starts out civil, as these things go.

Goons in suits knocking on doors around the building and asking questions, hold up photos of Joe and Nicky taken from security cameras/snooping about.

And of course, of course, the entire building is fiercely protective of those two sweet young men, you know?

Why Joe and Nicky could never do those horrible things the goons (posing as federal agents with shiny badges and all) say they did. Why, those two couldn’t hurt a fly! You’ve got the wrong people, agents.

Joe and Nicky know something’s going on, but they’ve got Team business and are away a fair amount as the Baddie sets things in motion, right?

Come back after one bout of heroing to Little Old Lady showering them in baked good and all? Invites herself in to help them put it all away and chides them about not watering that one houseplant someone gave them as a gift not too long ago and so on.

Just.

Unusual behavior from her and the others. Even the kid is acting weird, telling Joe and Nicky their mom wants to thank them for the basketball court restoration thingamabob by having them over to dinner.

(Belated kind o deal because that was months ago, but she had a big project at work and all these other things since and anyway, anyway, she’d like to have them over to thank them and of course they can’t say no to that, you know?)

The baddie has his goons watch the building, and happen to see Joe and Nicky getting back from another “business trip”, but before they can get to them Little Old Lady pops up and commandeers Joe and Nicky. Needs their help moving her couch or what have you.

And then, okay, everything makes sense with what their neighbors have been doing, protecting them from the baddie’s goons and whatnot?

Sweet as it is, they can’t let it go on because someone’s going to get hurt.

But they play along for the moment, let Little Old Lady and the kid and everyone else think they’re getting away with it (only everyone knows what’s going on - no one’s trying that hard to hide the truth about it, so long as they keep the goons from hurting Joe and Nicky and just. Yeah?)

But then!

The goons get tired of everyone’s interference and go after Joe and Nicky and the fighting begins!

Super cool choreography using the environment (and hidden weapons compartments and such???) and also swords, because of course.

The fighting spills out of Joe and Nicky’s place and down the hallway - Little Old Lady opens her door and trips one of the goons who’s taking aim at Nicky before slamming it shut and taking cover - and by the end of it it’s pretty damn obvious that Joe and Nicky are far from harmless?

Like.

The expected amount of blood and bits and bodies. Joe and Nicky restrained themselves because civilian environment, and also cops aren’t fond of responding to a call to find a literal bloody massacre greeting them.

Also, trying not to traumatize the kid. (Who incredible, yes, but still a kid and even the adults who see what happened are a little yikes, you know?)

ANYWAY.

Joe and Nicky are like, well, damn, because no way they can just keep on living there after all that, right?

Still have to deal with the head baddie and also no way anyone in the building wants people capable of what they did around?

AND YET.

Little Old Lady plays up the little old lady aspect? Granny perfume, knitted shawl, bifocals and oh, my, and goodness, look at all the mess, and could you speak up, young lady, my hearing’s not what it used to be and so on as the cops take her witness account.

Single Mom is just. :O that something like that could have happened, and are Joe and Nicky okay? They’re such nice people. Always a kind word, and so helpful! It’s just awful that something like this happened to them.

Joe and Nicky just ??? while looking like horror movie survivors (...or not, because that’s a lot blood and do you two need medical care?), one of them half-heartedly trying to hide the sword they’re still holding where the cops won’t notice it.

(They did, though. They so did.)

The poor cops who have been called to a horrific scene and are met with everyone’s concern for Joe and Nicky while the goons are carted away for medical care/morgue.

Absolutely know Joe and Nicky are far from innocent in all this? And yet! They are the victims here, right? Minding their own business and attacked by goons in their own home, why of course they had no choice but to defend themselves.

(Also, also, I am choosing to make Single Mom a lawyer or soon-to-be lawyer in this because it makes me stupidly happy? Like the cops are all “Okay, yes, but the swords???” while she’s like “Officer, please,” because America and there’s a store down the street that sells assault rifles for God’s sake. Seriously.)

In the end the cops can’t actually charge them for anything - okay, wait, no. Noise violation or some such because the goons with their guns and later the screaming?

The cops aren’t that interested in digging into matters because reasons? Joe and Nicky being so popular among their neighbors, sure, but other things like the basketball court and such that helped make their jobs easier? Low-key neighborhood watch and so on ~disguised as helping neighbors to and from their cars while chatting about their day and then maybe anonymous/not-so-anonymous tips about shady types loitering about.

(Look. Distinct accents? But also backgroiund noise and Joe/Nicky asking the other what they want for dinner and the cops are just. Plausible deniability all the way on this one.)

But whatever.

Joe and Nicky are like uh, what now?

The obvious, smart thing to do would be to move somewhere else after dealing with head baddie?

But it’s such a nice neighborhood and once thet/the team deal with head baddie there shouldn’t be a problem if they stick around for a couple more years before having to move on because lol, they don’t seem to have aged a day and all that.

Also, though, also.

Some time after all that hullabaloo and Andy and Nile stop by to make sure Joe and Nicky aren’t getting into trouble? (Ahaha, yeah. I’m pretty sure Andy and Nile would be the ones getting into trouble, but I digress.)

Just.

Andy and Little Old Lady staring one another down?

Little Old Lady taking in Andy’s axe in its carrying bag and doing that sniff, head toss thing before telling her she better not get those boys in trouble, understand?

Nile is looking between Little Old Lady and Andy like this is the best goddamn thing she’s ever seen, super freaking delighted and desperately wishing she could record it all to show Joe and Nicky because you know they’d love it too?

Andy all Cool and Haughty but secretly/not-so-secretly loving Little Old Lady and just, yessss.

They get the same treatment from all of Joe and Nicky’s neighbors they run across just to get to their apartment.

And when they finally get there it’s like. If they didn’t know something went down before all that, they sure as hell know now, you know?

Andy just gives them this look because of course this isn’t the first time something like happened with Joe and Nicky.

And, sure. They probably told Andy about it all as a precaution/matter of habit in case Something Happened to/with them? But they also handled it fine on their own, but now she and Nile get all the juicy details that couldn’t/always sound better in person over drinks and food and family meeting up again and yeah.

AND.

Some poor cop following up on Joe and Nicky or something only to be greeted by Andy (possibly holding her axe not in its carrying bag because cleaning/sharpening/honing it or Deep Emotional Moment involving it and probs a flashback or whatever) and is just

!!! before telling her why they’re there and getting the hell out as soon as they can because they’ve heard stories about The Incident with Joe and Nicky and there were swords involved?

Like.

Actual swords???

And now some lady has an axe??????

So, yes???

I feel I glossed over Joe and Nicky and their stupid adorable lives with the making dinner together and in-jokes and absent-minded kisses in the morning or in passing whenever?

Bickering/teasing and stealth!kisses.

(Also? Sparring and swordplay because they wouldn’t want to get sloppy! Also stealing kisses and pinned to surfaces and cocky grins/smirks and you know how this kind of thing goes, so yeah.)

But also, also.

I don’t know how alcohol affects them with the whole immortality/healing thing they’ve got going on? I’d assume they can’t really get drunk anymore, but!

The thought of Joe being a little tipsy or what have you while Nile is introducing the team to a movie or show and says something involving the phrase “It’s a love letter to....” regarding a remake or genre or actor or what have you, right?

Only for Joe to be “Love letter? Love letter?! They don’t know the first thing about love letters!” and goes off on a rant/composes a love letter on the spot to Nicky who is :DDDD and looking at Joe all sickeningly in love with him because yes, this is not a situation that deserves such ~passion for a thing? And yet, it’s Joe and he’s staring into Nicky’s eyes as he speaks and Nicky’s like, :DDDD because feelings and such. (Also, I feel Joe would finish his love letter to Nicky with another passionate kiss, so Nicky’s not about to interrupt him on that one, you know?

Meanwhile Nile is like “Please, no, this is the millionth time you’ve done this since I met you guys and I just want to show you this thing. I’m sorry I said anything, Andy please do something about them?”

Andy’s sitting there like, ah, yes, my idiots all soft and fond and sappy as shit over her team/family as Nile tries to get Joe to maybe save his heartfelt love letter to Nicky for after the movie instead?

#the old guard #joe x nicky #joe/nicky #prompt fills #Anon #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

Note

G = Gifts(What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?) for all the riders! Please :D

Death:

He likes to give Geno/Error simple things, probably even things he knows that they've been wanting for a while or needing. Whether it's a new set of needles (hooks?) for crocheting or a coffee to help them get through the day, he'll get it without question. He doesn't mind getting a gift in return, but it really isn't necessary. He just likes being able to help the person he loves!

Famine:

Famine likes to give Ret simple things too. It could be a new book he knows he's been thinking of getting for a while, he could sweet talk War into fixing up any of Ret's torn clothes that are lying around, he could even cook him his favorite meals and/or carve him things from chunks of wood he finds while he's out and about. Getting a gift in return makes him happy and he loves it, but he'd never actively ask for anything. That decision is left entirely up to his partner

Pestilence:

His gifts to War are usually things he knows she needs, like crochet hooks/needles, more threads and yarn, knitting needles, strips of fabric, even books on craft stuff (whenever she expresses an interest in one). He'll sometimes also surprise her with flowers and goodies, her favorites being anything chocolaty. As for receiving gifts in return, he doesn't ask for anything. Nothing elaborate, at least. He might tap on his teeth or his face as if asking for a kiss, but that's about it :P

War:

She likes to give Pestilence handmade things. It can be something small like a shirt or a hoodie that she mended, it be something she knitted or crocheted, or in rare cases, she could even offer him herself (if ya catch my drift 👀). Appealing to his sense of humor, she'll also embroider different nicknames of his into the things she makes; "rat man", "rat bastard", "#1 gremlin", things of that nature. She wouldn't ask for anything in return, although in all honesty, it'd probably make her pretty happy. Pest knows how to read the look on her face really well, so if he doesn't give her anything in return and she gets pouty over it, he would just cover her face with smooches, more than likely

Retribution:

Although his area of expertise is in giving people bad dreams/nightmares/night terrors/sleep paralysis, he's happy to put all of his effort into giving Famine good dreams. If Famine needs certain ingredients to make something, Ret's happy to make a grocery run for him, too. Of course, he'd never admit it, but he really does like being helpful quite a bit. When it comes to getting a gift in return, Ret has too much pride to openly ask for anything, but there may be occasions every now and again where he'd like to get something back from the dork he's dating

Conquest:

She's highly observant when it comes to her s/o, so if there's anything they've been wanting, she likely knows about it and would go out of her way to get it for them. She'd also spend time in the kitchen, baking goodies and preparing their favorite meals for them, too. She doesn't ever expect anything return, not even for holidays like Christmas, and she's always surprised whenever they get anything for her. No matter what it is, she's always happy and grateful, and she always follows it up with a hug and kiss on the cheek (or depending on how long they've been together/how serious the relationship is, maybe even a kiss on the mouth/lips/teeth)

#isnt-that-something #asks #pestilence.exe #retribution.exe #war.exe #famine.exe #death.exe #reaper sans #conquest.exe #info

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milknette · 4 years

Text

day 30 - roommates

promise me you’ll stay, beyond the sunrise.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

MARINETTE doesn't know how he got her address.

She'd only moved in that day, after a haphazard decision to do so for independence and freedom in her own work. (Though the whole Ladybug-and-unexplained-disappearances thing when living her parents was a huge factor, too.)

Scratch that, it's probably the onlyfactor.

If it weren't for her parents' growing suspicion and concern due to her heroic escapades, Marinette would still choose to stay at home and with them; or at the very least, stay nearby.

She had to move a good distance away— a bus ride or so, in order to rationalize with her parents why she had to move out. ("But why do you have to leave?" "Moving would be easier for me to do my work! It cuts down on transportation time a lot.")

Never mind that as Ladybug, she can move from one side of Paris to another in mere minutes.

The apartment itself is quite modest, with enough space for her to live comfortably (but not much for anything else). Nino, Alya, and Adrien had helped her move in all her stuff, though quite a few were still left untouched inside their boxes.

It's more a reflection of Marinette's need for privacy than their helpfulness as friends, though— since a hefty amount of the items in those containers hold her carefully-curated collection of Adrien Agreste collectibles, limited edition items, and posters.

So. Many. Posters.

(It's been years, but her crush on him has only grown all the more intensely. She's grown out of her stuttering phase, fortunately, but the butterflies in her stomach don't fade, either.)

Exhaustedly, Marinette lies on her mattress.

They only left an hour ago… is it okay to miss them this much?

She's not accustomed to the quiet, especially with the bustling energy of her family and the customers that arrive for their daily dose of caffeine in the early mornings. The lack of aromatic scents of freshly-baked breads and desserts as she lays down is a stark reminder that she's not home anymore.

Marinette sighs to herself.

Maybe she's lonely.

Just a little bit.

It's in that exact moment someone comes knocking on her balcony door. The balcony is a good amount smaller than the one she had at home, only really enough for a few plants and one person—

Or one disguised cat-themed hero.

His smile's bright as she pushes away the curtain and opens the sliding door.

Chat Noir doesn't even wait for a verbal invitation; he walks inside, looking around in wonder.

"Wow, you've already unpacked a lot," he starts, noticing her sewing machine set up on a desk nearby. "You already took it out?"

An eyebrow raised. "Yeah… why?"

"I thought you were setting up your sewing area last," he starts, before absurdly coughing to himself at her suspicious glance. "I mean, considering that it's the only one without a designated space… I thought you'd do everything else first, because it's common sense, right?"

Hmmm.

"That was the original plan," she finally admits. "But I have commissions to work on, so I decided to keep it there. Temporarily, at the very least." Chat Noir nods, before Marinette gestures at him. "So… how did you find out about here?"

"What do you mean?"

"My apartment?" She asks, leaning upon the door frame. "I don't recall telling you where I was moving."

"Oh…," he pauses, sifting through her boxes. "Uh, superhero, remember? Ladybug and I make it a point to know where everybody is at all times. To protect the citizens of Paris and all that!"

Well, that's not even the slightest bit true, but it's not as if Marinette can rebuff him.

So, she nods in fake understanding instead and shrugs.

"That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

Chat Noir smiles. "I figured that you'd meowss the company. You moved pretty far from your friends." He sounds almost sad at that revelation, and Marinette almost feels sorry.

(What would he be so sad for? It's not like she moved far away from him.

Though she wouldn't really know, if she did.)

"Well, I can't say that I don't appreciate you showing up." She smiles, eyes bright.

It's a sweet moment.

Until:

"You can help me unpack everything else."

(They spend the rest of the night unpacking things, but Marinette insists that one box be left alone. When Chat Noir accidentally sees a peak of an all-too-familiar model's poster flap out from its cover…

he thankfully decides against mentioning it.)

ii.

Chat Noir makes it a point to regularly stop by her apartment.

(Even at times he should be busy and on patrol— though more often than not, Marinette can't find it in herself to be angry at him.)

She still doesn't see her friends and family that often, but being with him, she finds, lessens the loneliness a lot; to the point that she finds herself more fulfilled, if anything.

At first, she figured that he'd get tired of him— seeing him both as Ladybug and Marinette, and so often, but it's the complete opposite. They talk about and do everything together, with her learning so much more about him than she'd ever expected to.

If anything, Chat Noir is good and fun company, even though she'll never admit it to his face.

It's a few months into their arrangement of random meetings when Marinette makes the mistake of going to her apartment straight home as Ladybug.

"… milady? What are you doing here?"

She pauses as she reaches for the balcony door, belatedly noticing that Chat Noir follows right after her. He's perched on the balcony railings, staring at her with confusion and almost suspicion.

Oops.

"Chat?! What are you doing here?" She points at him accusingly, almost stumbling backward. "I thought you said you were going straight home after the akuma!"

"Yeah…," he starts, eyebrows knitting together. "But I always stop by Marinette's to check on her if she's doing okay. She just moved away recently, and I just want to make sure she doesn't feel lonely or sad or anything." He pauses, realizing how his statement may sound. "I mean, speaking as a superhero, you know… I can't risk her getting akumatized! Especially since she's Multimouse and all…"

"That's actually… pretty sweet of you Chat."

He smiles softly, before suddenly narrowing his eyes. "That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

She halts, evidently caught off-guard. "I— uh—"

"Ladybug… visiting Marinette… in her apartment… that means…"

"Wait, don't connect the dots—"

"Marinette's planning a surprise for me!"

"I'm not—

Wait. What?"

She's never seen Chat Noir look so excited.

"I knew she was planning something for me! You know, last time I came over, we were talking about birthdays, and I told her it was some time around this month… is that what the two of you were planning all this time? Ack, this is pawsitvely exciting my tails on end!"

Ladybug wonders how he can be so smart but so dumb at the same time.

(Well, whatever the case— it works out well for her.)

Ladybug smiles. "You know I can' tell you that!" Her voice is a notch higher than usual, as she playfully and awkwardly punches his shoulder. "… pal! Now go home and let us plan your surprise, okay?"

"Can I get a hint?!"

"Uh. Cats." She stops, almost similar to the way a robot would if they were to malfunction. "Yup. Cats. Like you. Now that's all!"

She pushes at him, before he finally relents and leaves the balcony.

The next day, Chat Noir comes to Marinette's apartment, and sees his surprise:

A cat-themed party.

Marinette looks absolutely exhausted, but seeing Chat Noir's bright smile— she doesn't quite mind it.

"Happy birthday, kitty: however old you are, and whenever your birthday really is!"

They spend the rest of the night celebrating together.

(Adrien's birthday happens a week later, and she's surprised to find out that he wants to spend it treating her out, just the two of them. She wonders why he doesn't want a birthday party, and he explains that he already had one— and nothing could top how perfect it was.

They spend the day going around together, and end it as he drops her off at her apartment. Alya and Nino insist it's a date.

Marinette vaguely wonders to herself if it was.)

iii.

Chat Noir stops by when Adrien doesn't.

Marinette rereads the text over and over again:

I'm so, so, sorry, Mari. My dad's not letting me out until I finish all the work I do. Let's hang out another time, okay? Miss you, Alya, and Nino a lot!

She sighs, walking over to turn off the oven. The scent of passionfruit macarons makes their way around the apartment, as she carefully puts them into a container. Her outfit, a nicely-fitted red dress— the one Alya calls the first date dress, shines in the room light.

It's a strong inner debate as to whether Marinette should call her friends, but she ultimately decides against it.

(It'd be mean to burst into their lives with last-minute plans, and she especially doesn't want to disappoint them with the news that her dinner-with-Adrien-and-confess-your-love plan had failed spectacularly— before she could even do anything about it.

Marinette figures that she'll just disappoint them later on.)

She raises the container of sweets to her face. "So, what should I do with this…?"

"I'd like to try them."

She almost drops the macarons as a sudden voice bounces off the walls, clutching her heart in evident surprise. "Chat? What the heck, don't scare me like that! How long were you standing there?"

He looks almost sheepish. "A few minutes… I tried knocking, but you seemed so distracted in your thoughts so I just came in." His expression turns concerned. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "Just a little upset, but nothing new, really."

"I'm sorry."

Marinette shakes her head. "What are you sorry for? It's not your fault." She sighs to herself, before offering the container to him. "Anyway, do you want to try this? I'm not sure if you'll like it because it's passionfruit, but…"

"Are you kidding me, I love passionfruit! It's my favorite flavor!"

He beams, before quickly taking a bite of the snack, and breathing dreamily to himself. "These taste amazing." Then, a pause. "But are you sure I should eat this? Didn't you make it for someone?"

Marinette laughs softly, then walks over to sit on the couch, gesturing for him to come next to him.

"Chat, do you love anyone?"

The question is upfront and straightforward, and he's evidently surprised by it.

After the initial shock, though, he smiles to himself. "Of course I do. She's the purrfect girl, andI think about her a lot more than I should," he says, staring at her for a good moment.

Marinette doesn't know how to describe how his stare makes her feel.

"I love someone too," she finally admits.

The words hang in the air, and Chat Noir doesn't know what to say.

"He's a lucky guy," he finally breathes, a sad look in his eyes.

"You'd think," she laughs to herself, almost bitterly. "But I don't think he feels the same way, or if he ever will."

"What do you mean— who wouldn't fall in love with you?! You're kind, and sweet, and pretty on a regular day but tonight you're absolutely stunning…"

"Haha, thanks kitty," she mutters, before holding on to her dress. "I even dressed up for him today…"

A quiet pause.

"Wait… the guy you were supposed to meet today is the one you're in love with?'

She nods silently. "Adrien Agreste. He's a good friend of mine, it's just that my feelings are something so much more than that…"

Marinette isn't looking at him directly, so she's surprised to notice him abruptly stand up.

"Sorry, I have to go."

"Chat? I'm sorry if this was too much but…"

"I'll see you around, Marinette."

It's the lack of a playful nickname that gets her.

Almost frozen, she somehow manages to nod.

And Chat Noir disappears into the night.

iv.

The next time they patrol, Chat Noir tells Ladybug they need to talk.

"Are you sure I can't reveal my true identity to anyone?"

Her answer is instantaneous. "Of course. It's too risky." She pauses, then almost careful: "Why do you ask?"

(Things have become more awkward since the last time Chat Noir went to her apartment; when he just left her without explanation and stopped showing up completely. They still meet as heroes, but it's become much more strained since then.)

He sighs to himself. "It's just… I'm in love." Chat Noir pauses, then immediately backtracks. "Not with you, of course. Not anymore. I respect that you love someone else, and I've finally fallen for someone different. And I don't want to reveal too much but… she loves me back."

Marinette feels happy for him, of course, but can't quite explain why her stomach churns uncomfortably at the idea of him being in love with someone else.

"Then, what's the problem?"

He laughs bitterly to himself. "She fell for my civilian identity."

Oh.

"So you want her to know you're the same person?"

Chat Noir pauses for a moment, as if in thought, then shakes his head. "No," he finally says. "I just want to be sure she loves the entire me, and not just the perfect character I keep up in real life. I want her to fall in love with Chat Noir, too. Because this identity's just as much a part of me as Adr— as my civilian self is."

Silence, again.

"As a superhero and the Guardian, I cannot stress the importance of keeping your identity secret. Even if it is someone you love." He winces, and she presses on. "But as your friend, I want you to be happy, kitty. So, do what you must." She smiles at him. "I know you'll do what's right."

The superhero smiles back, then abruptly gets up.

"Then if you don't mind, milady… I have somewhere to be."

By the time Chat Noir arrives at Marinette's apartment, she's already home.

"What are you doing here, Chat?"

"… for two things. Do you mind if I come in?"

She doesn't exactly willing to do so, but lets him in anyway.

"The first part is an apology." He looks at her, evidently ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry I just left like that back then. I shouldn't have left without an explanation, and it was one of the worst things I've ever done. I'm so sorry."

"As you should be," she only says, before sighing to herself. "And the second part?"

"An explanation."

"Better keep it short."

"I can summarize it in three words."

She looks up at him, suddenly intrigued. "Which is?"

"I love you."

(The dots connect themselves even without Marinette willing them to, and she catches on before Chat Noir even realizes the situation they're in.

Knowing about her address, his birthday celebrations, his love for passionfruit, the mysterious person he was in love with—is in love with, and his abrupt disappearance after her confession…

How did she not realize it before?)

The faces of two people Marinette love dearly start blending into one.

She never knew it would be possible to feel so much for one person.

Marinette starts laughing, tears in her eyes, as everything becomes that much clearer.

She smiles.

"I love you too—

Adrien."

(He almost falls off the balcony.

Fortunately, however— this time there's somebody around to catch him.)

He knocks on the correct door, this time around.

And with him, a ton of boxes and containers that tower almost menacingly around his figure.

"Sorry I had to use this door," he starts. "But my stuff wouldn't fit through the balcony."

Marinette laughs, before putting her hands to fold in front of her chest.

"That's a lot of boxes," she observes. "I don't recall you having that much of a problem with my stuff back then."

"That's because I only stayed the night."

"And now?"

He smiles, then presses a sudden kiss to her lips.

"Hopefully, I'm staying the rest of my life."

She huffs at the sudden surprise, then smiles back softly.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that."

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #this got out of hand so we r using a read more tag #COZ I KNOW HOW TO USE THOSE KNOW #ml fic #ml fanfic

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