#the baking together and cookie decorating happen off camera

[rocknrollsalad]

Steddieholidaydrabbles: Day Six - Cooking Together AND Steddimas - baking and cookie decorating

🍪 Scott Clarke is not a baker. A fact he's learned the hard way. Though it's HOURS too late, he enlists the help of Steve and Eddie because what's Christmas without a gingerbread house, right?

🥼 content/trigger warnings: food

🧑‍🍳 word count: 1457

Eddie wasn’t the go-to guy for help. No one he knew looked at their address book and said “Yeah, Eddie Munson is the number I’m gonna dial”. It should have been! He was always helpful and knew how to do plenty. Something he proved time and time again when he was the last resort. Not the “I’m going to call Eddie for help” but the “well, Eddie is here so I might as well ask him too” sort of thing. 

A fact he’d grown used to. At least until he found himself partnered up with Steve Solves-Everyone’s-Problems Harrington. People called him for everything. Major problems, minor problems, someone else’s problems, those in Steve’s life didn’t need an address book; they had his number memorized. 

Dating Steve did change the number of phone calls Eddie received, the calls were still for Steve but now the Munson household was the first stop in getting ahold of Hawkins's own wonderboy. Eddie would hate it so much more if Steve didn’t like up like Times Square every time he was needed. 

Then Steve went and made it worse by saying it was the only thing he had to offer. He wasn’t ever going to be able to help with homework or remember the weird names of all those elves but he could drive them places and sit with them when they were scared. He could fix a car, change a hard to reach light, or pick a few things up from the store. 

As painful as it was that Steve thought those were his only skills, it actually had Eddie pushing their mutual friends at Steve more. Make the boy feel important please, no one has needed him in days. Eddie also stayed out of the way. He didn’t tag along or offer his two cents. 

Eddie wasn’t sure of his place in this group yet but “the helping hand” was already taken. They had their Swiss Army friend, ready to fix anything that was broken. A talent that crossed friendship lines when Scott Clarke called in a panic, opening with a desperate cry for help. Eddie did what he always did and passed the phone off to Steve. 

Like so many other “emergencies”, this one wasn’t life or death. Scott wasn’t part of the crew who’d literally stared down death or saw the pits of hell, he was allowed to be dramatic about it, but a…cookie emergency seemed like a problem the Care Bears should solve. “Oh no, we’ve put too much sugar in the cookies and ruined the bear's birthdays, golly gee, what are we going to do?” 

Bake some new cookies. Buy some from the store. There were so many answers that weren’t "enlist Steve and Eddie like it was some sort of national crisis". 

Of course, Steve wasn’t in agreement and spent the whole time Eddie looked for clothes to change into pacing the doorway, desperate to get out there and help someone who needed it. Which didn’t speed Eddie up any.

Steve felt weird going over to Scott’s alone. The amount of times he repeated “he was our teacher” almost went past annoying and into endearing. Scott wasn’t their teacher now, he was some lame-ass guy trying to impress Wayne with baked goods. A dumb waste of time because why would Wayne be impressed by anyone’s baking ability? He once ate an entire birthday cake Eddie burnt that one year. Without a single complaint. 

However, an emergency might have been an understatement. 

Scott ushered them into a gingerbread warzone. Complete with broken men and women lining the battlefield. Some house pieces were both solid and liquid, others were charred to a crisp, nothing made sense and every surface was covered with something. 

Both Eddie and Steve stood on the only clean kitchen tiles with their jaws on the floor. Scott had clearly given up on aprons, there were a few among the mess, and his 1979 science fair tee was unreadable in spots. Flour handprints were all over his pants, along with crusted gingerbread batter, and Eddie didn’t know whether to laugh or get the man a drink. 

“It’s just science, right? It’s a chemical reaction. You measure carefully, pay attention to what you’re putting in, and add heat. I think actual rocket science would be easier.” Shoving his hands through his hair, a path they’d clearly taken a few times, Scott tried to find something close to composure. 

He wasn’t upset he couldn’t impress Wayne, he was bothered he got the formula wrong. This was the scientific process letting him down and it’d driven him to madness. Eddie wondered how many failed attempts there were hidden in here and what on Earth made him call for their help. 

“No. Well yes, but it’s more than that,” Steve said with a soft confidence Eddie had never heard from him. 

The tone slowed Scott too, he was willing to entertain whatever Steve had to say. 

“You guys aren’t going to like the rest of it. Just let me try it out, it’ll be fine.” 

Eddie muttered a quiet “What” and looked at Steve. Getting a “don’t ask” stare that ensured Eddie would absolutely ask. He’d be patient enough to get Scott out of the room but that was about it. 

He thought getting Scott out of the room would be harder but he heard Steve offer to try, threw his hands up, and said, “I’m going to take a shower, kitchen is yours.”

For a full minute, Steve and Eddie stood in silence. Listening to Scott move through his house, still throwing a mild temper tantrum as he did. Eddie could only imagine the amount of exasperated scientist mumbling that was going on. 

Once they felt they were in the clear, they let out a joint sigh and Eddie said. “Ho-ho-holy shit I thought he was going to stand over our shoulder and, like, grade you as you cooked or something.” 

“Given the bar he set, it wouldn’t be hard to get a passing grade.” 

That wasn’t kind and Eddie laughed for that reason. Mixed a bit with how truthful it was. They were staring down a ton of wonderful-smelling carnage. Much like the gingerbread people in the sink, Scott didn’t have a leg to stand on. 

“Plus, who said I’m doing all the work?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, me. I said you were because you’re the one with cryptic answers about what it takes to make a good cookie.” 

“It’s not cryptic, I just didn’t want to listen to you and Scott mock me for the rest of time,” 

The comment was followed by Steve’s trademark huffy little pout that Eddie loved. Arms crossed, he defended himself and braced for impact. Though his walls were made of cotton candy and the castle was guarded by two cardboard cutouts. Steve was horrible at this stuff. 

And Eddie was persistent. He pressed into Steve’s space, enough to cause him to lose balance a little. Finding a stronger stance, Steve looked anywhere but at Eddie. Still, Eddie could see the smile. He’d made a few missteps on when to press for Steve to say things he was holding in but the lights were all green here. 

Doing his best to look cute and innocent, something Eddie had likely never been, he lowered himself enough to have to look up at Steve. “We’d never mock you, for anything,” Eddie said. 

“Yeah, well I’m still not telling you,” Steve raised his nose in the air, looking away. 

As much as Eddie knew saying “I love you” for the first time was supposed to be some big memorable moment, it was little ones like these that always threatened to steal that from him. Standing in a mess that was likely making Steve’s skin crawl, creating something to bicker about, and playing their parts so perfectly comical. That’s so much better than some fancy dinner they’d never have or a beach vacation they’d not go on. 

“Fine, I’m going to go add some more burnt cookies to the pile. Since I don’t know the secret to it,” Eddie mocked as he pulled away and went deeper into the kitchen. 

Steve was so hot on his heels they almost collided. “Look, I know you can’t exactly do worse but lemme do this okay? I got it.” 

“I do really like the challenge of doing worse.” 

“Yeah, I regretted that as soon as I said it. You absolutely could do worse.” 

“Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to say,” Eddie cooed.

“Who knew Scott was this bad though,” Steve said with a judgemental stare around the room. 

“Wanna know something? A real secret?” 

Eddie leaned in close and whispered through a giggle, “Wayne hates gingerbread.” 

#so i realzied after editing this and pasting it in here #it isn't ACTUALLY the prompts???? #it's the lead up #the set up #the baking together and cookie decorating happen off camera #or in part two #which is dumb of me #but i already wrote this #and the day is nearly done #whoops #hey everyone come see what i wrote now #challenge: steddimas #challenge: steddie holiday drabbles #clarkson

[hawkins-losers]

You’re my best view (part 2) | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You fulfill your promise and take polaroids for your boyfriend

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: nudity? 

A/N: This ended up being so much longer than planned and I’m not even sorry. It’s also the type of girlfriend I am, but that’s bc I’m an artsy bitch 

Part one

-

It’s been three weeks since you mentioned it and it’s been three weeks of Eddie asking you when you’d do that damn polaroid you promised him.

The day had finally come.

On Thursdays, Eddie's uncle had an earlier shift at the factory, meaning the trailer was empty at an earlier time. You took advantage of that knowledge and planned accordingly.

That meant convincing Eddie to move his Hellfire club meeting.

''Why did you ask me to cancel my 'Satanic worshiping' tonight?'' he asked as you got out of the van and headed inside the trailer, quoting a news magazine about Dungeon & Dragons.

''I did not ask you to cancel it, I asked you to move it to tomorrow. That's different,'' you corrected, sliding your backpack off your shoulder and down on the table.

‘’Same thing,’’ he waved off, closing the door behind you. ‘’So, are you finally going to tell me why? You were being very secretive and promised me I would not be regretting it. It better not be a catch to get me to help you study for Biology class or something because, unless it’s body anatomy, I’m not going to be a great help.’’

You chuckled at the ground. ‘’That’s not it.’’

‘’Thank you, Jesus.’’

‘’Check in my bag, I got a surprise for you.’’

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, curious.

A surprise could mean a lot of things. It could be a movie you rented and a bag of popcorn, sexy lingerie - although that would already be on you and not in the bag -, a tupperware of cookies you had baked, the latest record of one of his favorite bands, or, in tonight's case your polaroid camera.

You watched as he unzipped your backpack, trying to hold back a smile, impatient to see his reaction. His doe eyes rounded up like saucers at the sight of the polaroid camera, and his lips twisted into a Cheshire cat smile, immediately putting two and two together.

A film camera would’ve been more practical to use, but you didn’t trust anyone to develop them. It’s too easy to print one more and keep it in your pocket for personal use. The idea of a stranger having a sexy picture of you on their nightstand and wanking every night to it made you sick to your stomach and very uncomfortable.

Eddie flickered his eyes to you, seeing a bounce in his bones, unable to contain his excitement. ‘’Where is it? Is it in there?’’ He motioned to your backpack.

You shook your head. ‘’No. I need someone to take them for me.’’

‘’Them? As in…more than one?’’

You nodded slowly. There were five polaroids left to take in this camera.

You took a few steps toward the tall young man, tying your arms behind his neck as you made eye contact with him. ‘’Eddie Munson, will you do me the honor of being my personal photographer tonight?’’

As if possible, his smile widened even more. He grabbed your face and kissed you. ‘’Fuck yes.’’

Although the creative concept was quite simple, the ‘make it happen’ part was not.

While Eddie tidied the bed and cleaned a little - an empty bag of chips and a condom wrapper were not good background decor accessories -, you stood before his closet and picked out the shirt you’ll be wearing for the pictures. It was messy and some shirts were very creased from having fallen off their hanger and down the bottom. You were tempted by this Black Sabbath one, but, out of the corner of your eye, you recognized the shirt he gave you the first night you slept over.

It was the one.

‘’Found something to your liking, sweetheart? There’s some a few the dryer too.’’

You said nothing.

In silence, you removed your sweater and jeans and slipped the black and white raglan shirt over your head. It reached about your mid thigh and it smelled woody and spicy, topped with a tinge of weed.

‘’How do I look?’’

Eddie turned around, his jaw almost dropping at the sight. He looked at you with admiration in his eyes and swiped his tongue over his plump lips, feeling his body react instantly. ‘’Are you trying to kill me? You know I can’t control myself when you wear that? It’s my weakness. I swear you woke up today and thought ‘ah today is a beautiful day to kill my boyfriend’.’’

You threw your head back laughing at his antics. His sarcasm and sense of humor were one of the things that seduced you first.

You sat on the bed and Eddie had to fight the envy to pull you on his lap and make out.

Instead he asked, ‘’What’s the plan? I’m no photographer, so you gotta guide me here.’’

‘’I’m gonna do pretty much all of the work. All you gotta do is check in the viewfinder, make sure I’m in frame, and push the button to take the picture.’’

He rolled his eyes. ‘’I know how to use a polaroid camera. I meant, how do I get the right shot? We only got five and I don’t want to mess up.’’

It was cute that he cared this much about the project. That he wanted all the pictures to look beautiful and sexy and not just…dirty - something to jerk off to. If he wanted pictures of that genre, he could just open one of his Playboy magazines under his bed.

The first picture was simple. Just you, sitting on the bed with Eddie's precious red electric guitar. Eddie's Hellfire club shirt was relaxed on your body and exposing most of your thighs as you sat cross-legged. Your hands and fingers were positioned as taught, making it seem like you were playing for real.

For the second one, you laid on your back against the pillows, still holding the guitar. The angle was changed, now exposing your underwear - and the hickey on your right inner thigh - to the camera while Eddie sat on the end of the bed, watching with hungry eyes. He felt his dick stiffening at the sight before him, causing his jeans to become tight and uncomfortable.

He reached for his belt to release some of the pressure down there, but you stopped him.

‘’Nuh-uh.’’ You shook your head. ‘’You take nothing off.’’

‘’Wha- That’s unfair! That was not part of the plan,’’ he began to protest. ‘’How can I sit there and watch you undress and do these sexy pictures if I don’t get to - at least - take my pants off? You know how you make my dick feel. One small peak of your tits and my pants are about to burst.’’

With a mischievous smile on your lips, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and lifted it to flash him.

Eddie groaned painfully. ‘’You little devil.’’ The corner of his lips twitched and he grabbed your ankles. ‘’Get over here,’’ he said, pulling you down and closer to him, making you squeal and giggle.

Your shirt had ridden up due to the movement, exposing your under-boobs.

You didn’t bother fixing it.

Hesitantly, Eddie grabbed the camera. He searched your eyes for consent and pushed the button after getting a nod. This one was a little more on the dirty side, but a little glimpse was nothing too scandalous, right?

You heard the soft click and the polaroid was released. Eddie put it on the table to develop and sent the camera down again. He leaned over you, connecting your lips and slipping his tongue in. Your hands went to his hair, feeling his soft curls and pulling a little as the kiss deepened, while his snaked up your body and to your chest, the coldness of his silver rings making goosebumps raise on your skin. One of his thumbs brushed over the bud of your nipple, making you gasp softly into the kiss and arch your back.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling yourself closer and grinding down. His jeans were rough against your soft skin, but you did it again.

Eddie moaned at the feeling, breaking the kiss. ‘’If you do that again, we’ll never finish this shooting,'' he warned against your lips.

A part of you wanted to say 'fuck the shooting', your body craving his in all the possible ways, but another part wanted to continue playing model.

You captured his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled, teasing a little more before breaking away and taking the shirt off completely, leaving you topless.

Between your collarbones, there was a dainty silver chain with a small pendant of your lover's initial, matching Eddie's. Unlike your school's basketball players who lended their jersey or team jackets to their girlfriend to mark them as theirs, this jewelry represented that you were the only one who really knew the other.

He was about to kiss you again, thinking the shooting was over, but you grabbed the camera. ''Let's do the last two.''

‘’Are you sure?’’ Eddie asked with a puzzled look on his face, his eyes shifting from the camera to yours.

Although you had said no nudes - which Eddie was totally fine with and respected -, you wanted to take a topless picture. You felt confident enough and safe enough to take one. You trusted the hands in who it would be in.

‘’Yes.’’

Later into the night, after a shower and fixing something to eat, you took a look at the now developed pictures and smiled pleasantly at the result. They could’ve been better. The lighting was weird on two of them and you could see perfectly the handcuffs by Eddie’s bed - which you once used in bed -, but you made them together and that’s what made them special.

You took the one where you were clothed the most and handed it to Eddie, who was confused. ‘’That one you can keep in your van. You know, in case you need to show off your hot girlfriend.’’

He shook his head and grabbed the rest from your hands. ‘’Hell the fuck no. No one's going to see any of these. All mine.’’

-

Taglist:  @broadway-or-noway​ @violetsleftfist​ @thelaststraw3​  @cursedandromedablack​  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1​  @wh0reforbucknasty  @eddiemunson-slut  @slvdsjjk​  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie​ @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut

[indigo-corvus]

Banana Splits Christmas Headcanons, GO! Spew em’ out! Even if it’s the eve of christmas- but oh well- I’ll reblog your respose with my silly ol’ headcanons in return in the tags.

*CRACKS KNUCKLES* Here we go!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

- The Splits always decorate the clubhouse a day or two after Thanksgiving (depending on how full they are)

-Fleegle, (naturally) takes the lead in decorating, deciding where and when things should be hung.

-Fleegle and Snorky make sure no corner goes undecorated! There's tinsel and garlands everywhere, bows above every window, etc.

-Snorky loves all of the lights, and will sometimes sleep in the main room of the clubhouse to watch them blink as he drifts off to sleep.

-Bingo on the other hand, loves the decorations, but Hates being the one to put them up. He just likes putting the star up on the tree and then marveling at "all his hard work".

-The caroling begins literally the second the star lights up, and doesn't stop until January.

-It's mostly Snorky, Drooper, and Fleegle that do it All Day Every Day, but if he is in the room, Bingo will often be persuaded to join in. Their harmony is amazing, since they're so used to singing/recording together!

-Fleegle likes to read The Night Before Christmas to everyone on the 24th. He sits in the armchair and they all gather 'round.

-Bingo watches The Nightmare Before Christmas every year, even though Fleegle INSISTS it's a Halloween movie only. This "fight" happens Every Year. (It's more like a silly back and forth)

-Snorky goes Full Baking Mode, and pumps out 2 dozen cookies every other day. (He knows that the gang can't resist his famous snickerdoodles and decorated sugar cookies)

- Sometimes the boys help him out with the cookie decorating and turn it into a party! (It's always a good time with the Splits around!)

-Drooper is always extra careful with his tail this time of year! He doesn't want it to be confused for a garland, or to mess up any of the decorations they worked so hard on.

-Bingo makes The Best eggnog ever! (Family recipe!) It's spiced and creamy, and it's always gone the same day he makes it. (Sometimes he adds a little bit of rum to his nog when nobody's looking!)

-Drooper loves the old school Rankin Bass Christmas specials! His favorite is the Rudolph and he likes the Burl Ives snowman.

-Snorky loves hosting ugly Christmas sweater parties! He makes his own sweater every year. :)

-Fleegle is a very practical gift giver! He will gift something he knows will be useful, that is related to the gang's interests. (Paintbrush sets, cameras, etc)

-Snorky is a sentimental gifter! He will give a picture of everyone hanging out in a really pretty frame, a scrapbook, or something else that has a lot of meaning behind it, with a very heartfelt letter of friendship.

-Bingo is a silly gift giver, and will often get gag gifts followed by an actual gift. Snakes in a fake peanut brittle can with a nice quality sweater, 6 individually wrapped copies of Space Jam with a movie that one of them actually wants to see, one soap that smells like buttered popcorn and one that smells like honey or whatever.

-Drooper is all about the music, and will gift an instrument that the other hasn't tried to play yet. (Hard to do, since they are all fabulous musicians and try new instruments all the time!)

-Snorky and Drooper are the gift wrappers. Fleegle and Bingo are just terrible at it lol. Fleegle over complicates the wrapping, and Bingo is a very messy present wrapper lol.

-Every year they leave out a plate of milk and cookies, and every year, Ogre sneaks out and eats them. The gang always thinks it's Santa.

Happy holidays everyone! Happy Yule, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, etc!

May your next year be merry and bright!

#the banana splits #banana splits hc #hannah barbera #this is for all versions of them btw

[ninacarstairss]

THOMAS HEADCANONS

THOMASTAIR WEEK — day 2, thomas appreciation day @youngreckless

thomas always loved to tape his friends. he captures all the moments he's sure he wants to remember and his phone is filled with videos and photos he snaps when they're all together. he loves to be in the moment and enjoy it as fully as possible, but he also wants to have the memories pinned firmly in his camera roll so that he can get lost in the feeling again in moments of loneliness or sadness.

he always seems very put together and organized on the outside but he can never make a coherent plan to follow and his room, his computer screen, the backpack he uses for uni are always a complete mess and he can never remember where the stuff he's looking for is.

no one has ever beaten him at monopoly. no one has either figured out his strategy, he's just unbeatable.

he’s watched every single cooking show out there. masterchef? binged every series twice. the great british bake off? could probably reenact it. all the gordon ramsay shows? knows them by heart. it's eugenia who got him into these competitions: she’s been dragging him out of bed to watch cooking shows with her at 3am for years and thomas hated it at first, but soon he got used to it and the adrenaline of the competition kept him on the edge of his seat. more than once gideon or sophie walked into the living room, hair a mess and a big frown on their faces, because thomas and genia were shouting at this or that contestant doing something stupid or unfair in the middle of the night.

despite this, thomas can't cook to save his life. both genia and barbara tried to teach him the basics to make sure he didn't starve when he was home alone, but somehow every dish turned out burned, overcooked, entirely raw or, well, on fire — to be fair, it only happened once, but neither his sisters nor his parents will ever let him live that down. the only thing he ever managed to learn how to cook was pisto, a spanish dish gideon had prepared multiple times and taught the girls how to make, and that thomas himself had tasted often during his year in spain.

the first time he tried cooking for alastair on a date they ended up ordering chinese after thomas had somehow managed to break two pans.

because genia made him watch so many cooking shows, he's always wanted one of those lavish, elaborated cakes with frosting and fondant decorations, so, on his twentieth birthday, alastair and thomas’s sisters team up to get him one of those: it's a giant cup of tea on a silver tray with teaspoon and saucer included and a side of fig rolls, thomas's favorite cookies, all in fondant and sponge cake. it's the best birthday thomas has ever had.

barbara adopted a stray cat years ago and named him sir fluffypaws meowton. when he was younger, thomas never gave him much attention but the cat always liked him better than anyone else and he constantly sneaked in his room. barbara was always a little bitter that her cat liked thomas more, but whenever she found thomas asleep on the couch and sir fluffypaws curled up in his laps she just smiled and let them happily sleep.

his starbucks order is always a caramel macchiato tall and a double chocolate cookie on rainy days and a iced matcha tea latte and blueberry muffin on the rare hot summer days.

he was class president in high school and to this day he still has no clue how he ended up there.

he was one of the most popular guys in school, together with the rest of the merry thieves, and he always found himself embarrassed when someone told him they had a crush on him or hoped to ask him out on a date when instead he only had eyes for the cute black haired boy with six rings per hand and the most beautiful dark eyes he'd ever seen.

after years of wondering he chose to study engineering in college but he never gave up on his love for languages and still finds time to teach himself.

he binged all the scandinavian shows on netflix and eventually started teaching himself the languages of his favorite ones so that he could rewatch them and truly understand them instead of just reading the subtitles.

gideon and sophie loved to travel a lot so thomas, genia and barbara were hauled all around the world for years when they were younger. as they grew up these travels became less frequent but the habit always stuck with thomas and he keeps on going around the world whenever he can.

lucie is the first person he comes out to and she is obviously more than supportive; she's enthusiastic and wants to know everything about this mysterious boy he likes.

next in line are genia and barbara that find out by chance when they enter his room without knocking and find him kissing alastair carstairs – thomas turns bright red and starts muttering nonsense until the girls grin and barbara says “i was wondering how long it would take you to stop giving alastair longing glances and ask him out”. alastair grins back at her and that's how thomas finds out alastair had a crush on him all along and his sisters both knew

the person he was less scared to come out to was gideon. he knew his father would love him no matter what and the day he told him and sophie he cried when they pulled him into a hug and spent an hour telling him how much they loved him and how happy they were he told them

Tag list: @cordaisya @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @stxr-thxif @icycoolslushie (let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

#cece writes #thomastair week #thomas appreciation day #thomas lightwood #modern thomas headcanons #alastair carstairs #eugenia lightwood #barbara lightwood #gideon lightwood #sophie collins #lucie herondale #thomastair #tsc headcanons #tsc #shadowhunters #tlh #the last hours #userrlucie #userfandomsnett #my writing

[born-to-lose]

Christmas With the One that I Love

Pairing: Joonas Porko x reader

Requested by anons

Summary: You and Joonas spend a peaceful Christmas Eve together.

Tags: Christmas, fluff

Words: 902

A/N: Holidays with Joonas when?

Tag list: @warriorteam1924 @slashscowboyboots @losers-yurio @lost-in-the-80s @lucyboytom @blood-on-blood @halloween-chick-in-love-with-cas @jennyggggrrr @tuffduff @jonesyownsmyheart @rhyetaylor62 @necro-fucks @the-killer-queenie @dumbass-of-darkness @mikeywaysboyfriend @disrespectfullcalum @kyrju @smells-like-perfect-senses @sweetnightowl @whoreforblindchannel @kellyrosie @thetimecrystal @wearenosaints @wow-ihateithere

Tip me if you want!

It was the morning of 24 December and you woke up to Joonas's hand on your cheek and his nose touching yours. "Merry Christmas, angel!" he said cheerfully, giving you a long kiss on the lips. "Do you want to bake cookies with me?"

You nodded while you stretched your arms and rubbed your eyes. Looking up at him, you chuckled as you noticed he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that said 'Santa's favorite ho'. It was the one he had crafted with Niko for a theme party last year and he wore it with pride when you were at home or sometimes even in public.

"Jealous?" he teased, offering you his hand to help you out of bed.

"Obviously," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. "So that means I'm Santa?"

He grinned and pulled you close. "Mhm yes, I'm your favorite ho."

You returned the grin and quickly got dressed before joining him in the kitchen. He had everything prepared to bake gingerbread cookies and the Christmas tree, snowman and reindeer shaped cookie cutters were also laying on the side of the counter.

"I was thinking we could put up the tree and go for a walk while the dough is chilling?" Joonas suggested as he grabbed the hand mixer.

You nodded, washing the spoons and the bowl you had used in the sink. After the dough was mixed, he wrapped it up in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge, not missing the opportunity to kiss your cheek as he reached around you to close the fridge door.

Disagreements between you and Joonas rarely happened, but when it came to decorations, you usually had different opinions and especially when you decorated the Christmas tree.

"But red and gold is a classic!" you argued, crossing your arms.

"Yeah and that's why I want blue and silver!" he contradicted you. "Red and gold is boring."

"Because blue and silver isn't patriotic," you retorted, half-jokingly.

Joonas pouted and there was a pause before he proposed, "Blue and gold?"

"Blue and gold."

The two of you put the ornaments on the tree as if nothing had happened and you had been in agreement about the color scheme right from the start. At the end, Joonas lifted you up so you could put the gold star on the top. The tree actually wasn't that tall, which meant you could technically reach the top by yourself, but he insisted on helping you.

When you were done, you admired your work for a couple of minutes and he got his Polaroid camera to snap a picture. "Are we going, babe?"

You put on your shoes, a coat, a hat and the scarf Joonas had knitted for your last birthday. He also got dressed before taking his keys and holding your hand as you left your apartment.

As usual around this time of year, it was snowing and it was just perfect for a walk in the park. Contrary to most days, it wasn't crowded. In fact, there were only a handful of elder people sitting on the benches.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" he started singing quietly, the smirk noticeable in his voice.

"C'mon let's go and play," you chimed in, suppressing a laugh.

You formed snowballs and built a small snowman, which you sat on a bench. Stepping back to look at your work, you tilted your head and Joonas said, "Let's make another one so he doesn't feel alone."

He proceeded to build a second snowman right next to the other one. To finish off the look, he put a few leaves on its head, which was supposed to represent a hairstyle. "Don't they look cute?"

You nodded in agreement. "They look a bit like us, don't you think?"

"Well, that's like having kids. If you make them, they look like you," he explained, laughing.

"So you're comparing snowmen to children?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Basically?" He linked his arm with yours. "Come on, let's go home."

As soon as you came back home, you both changed into warm clothes and you sat in front of the fireplace while Joonas made two cups of hot chocolate, turning the record player on. Sitting down on the carpet beside you, he handed you a cup and kissed your forehead. You didn't really talk, he just hummed along to the songs that were playing while having his free arm around your middle.

After a while, you checked the time to find the gingerbread dough should be ready by now and you stood up to get it out of the fridge. The two of you took turns rolling the dough and cutting out the cookies - and of course the throwing flour at each other couldn't be missing. When you took the baking sheet out of the oven, you decorated the cookies with icing and sprinkles.

You hated to admit it because decorating things with Joonas was always sort of like a competition, but since he was a stickler for details, his cookies looked better than yours. Apparently, your slight disappointment was visible on your face because his smile faltered and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Your cookies are more detailed than mine," you mumbled, feeling extremely dumb for making him worried because of something so irrelevant.

"So? I like yours better. Besides, we're gonna eat them within an hour anyway," he reminded you, booping your nose.

#mel writes #joonas porko #joonas porko x reader #joonas porko imagine #joonas porko fic #blind channel #blind channel x reader #blind channel imagine #blind channel fic

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2020

Day 20 - The Barden Christmas Eve Bake-Off

Author's Prompt: Bakeoff AU - Every year Barden has a Christmas Eve Bake-Off, and for four straight years, Chloe Beale has won it with her baking partner Beca Mitchell. The two had a misunderstanding, and it's time for the bake-off. Will they settle their differences and win again this year? Or will their chances crumble along with their cookies?

The day before Christmas Eve, Chloe Beale walked into the Barden Christmas Eve Bake-Off kitchen and found her baking station. She set the box she had been carrying on the table and checked out her station.

Chloe had won the Bake-Off for the past four years and hoped to make it number five this year. No other baker, except one, has ever won the title for more than four years in a row, and Chloe beat that record last year, and she was ready to win again. Unfortunately for her, as her partner, Beca Mitchell was the other baker who had four wins to her name.

"Fuck!"

"Must you always be cursing?" Chloe asked, glaring over at Beca trying to wheel their hand cart through the door.

"Must you always be riding my ass?" Beca snarked back.

Beca finally made it through the door and stopped in front of their baking station. Beca looked at Chloe and asked, "Where do you want these?"

"Just leave it there," Chloe said, nodding to indicate where Beca was currently standing.

Beca sighed and made her way around the counter, so she was facing Chloe. She took a deep breath and said, "Can we not fight during the competition, Chlo? Can we please talk instead?"

Chloe didn't say anything; she just stared at Beca.

"Chloe?" Beca said. Chloe stared down at the counter, causing Beca to emit a loud sigh. "If you want to talk, I'm not going anywhere."

Beca's jaw was clenched as she turned and went back to the boxes. She took one and set it on the counter, and started removing the contents, setting them on the table.

"Um, Beca?" Chloe said, causing Beca to look over at her expectantly. "You're not supposed to unbox anything until tomorrow."

"Oh, um," Beca said, replacing what she took out of the box. "Right."

"Beca!" Stacie called as she walked in carrying a box. "Looks like we're neighbors."

Stacie set the box down at the next baking station. She walked over to Beca and grabbed her in a hug, and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was just a quick peck, but it caused Chloe's jaw to drop.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Beca asked, pushing Stacie away from her.

"I heard you and Chloe were no longer a thing," Stacie said, looking over at Chloe. "So, I thought I'd stake my claim before someone else did."

"Sorry, Stacie," Beca said. "I'm not interested." Beca lowered her voice and added, "You know I want Chloe. Even if Chloe doesn't want anything to do with me right now."

"You should take her up on it, Beca," Chloe said, having heard Beca. "I don't have it in me to care about what or who you do."

Chloe turned and started walking towards the exit. "I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Chloe hid her face so no one would see the tears in her eyes.

Beca's eyes were full of concern as she watched Chloe walk out the door. Beca ran out after her.

"Chloe?" Beca called out. "Wait. Please?"

"Leave me alone, Beca," Chloe said, wiping at her tears.

"Are you okay?" Beca asked. "You aren't looking so good right now."

"What do you care?" Chloe asked, glaring at Beca. "Isn't Stacie waiting for you?"

"I don't care about Stacie," Beca said. "I care about you because, even though you hate me for some reason, I lo-." Beca snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she was about to say. She swallowed and said, "I like having you as my friend."

"I guess I was right about you," Chloe said.

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Beca asked, scowling.

"It means you aren't mature enough to handle what happened between us," Chloe said, causing Beca's cheeks to redden.

"Why are you so mad at me?" Beca asked. "What did I do?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," Chloe scoffed.

"I'm not pretending," Beca said. "We had a great night, and you were fine when I left you. Then you shut me out and won't even talk to me."

"Can you blame me after what you did?" Chloe asked.

"That's just it," Beca said. "I haven't got a clue as to what I've supposedly done to make you hate me."

"Is everything okay over here, Beca?" Stacie asked, walking over to stand next to Beca.

"I don't know," Beca said and pointed over at Chloe. "Ask her."

Stacie turned to Chloe with a raised brow. "Well, Chloe? What's going on?"

"You really don't know why I'm upset with you?" Chloe asked, looking at Beca.

"That's what I just said," Beca said, sighing heavily. "That's what I've been saying."

"I can't be sure if you're telling the truth or not," Chloe said.

"Why would she lie?" Stacie asked, coming to Beca's defense.

"Because it was a dirty thing to do," Chloe said. "And Beca could be lying to try and get back on my good side."

Beca scoffed, and Stacie stood speechless as they both stared at Chloe as she glared at the two of them.

"I should probably go," Beca said, looking around. "A lot more people are here now, and I don't want to get in the middle of something in front of them."

"Let's go to my place," Stacie said. "We can talk about the bake-off and discuss where I'll be taking you on our first date."

"Okay," Beca said.

Chloe stood gawking in disbelief as the two brunettes walked off together.

~~ Day 20 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmas - 2020 ~~

"So, you never told me what actually happened between you and Chloe," Stacie said as she and Beca sat on her sofa, sipping beers.

"Well," Beca said, holding her beer bottle and picking at the label. "We were on our fourth date, and she invited me back to her place. We were talking and then we were kissing. One thing leads to another, and she led me to her bedroom. We had sex for the first time, and it was amazing."

"So, what happened?"

"It was about four in the morning and my phone pinged with a text notification," Beca said. "It was from my dad telling me that my grandmother had been in an accident and things didn't look good for her, so they were heading to the airport to catch a flight to Portland. He also said he had reserved a ticket in my name."

"I'm so sorry, Beca," Stacie said. "Why didn't you tell her?"

"I left her a note," Beca said. "I mean, it all happened so fast, but I wasn't going to just leave her without saying something. I called my dad, and he said he was on his way to my place to pick me up. I told him I wasn't at home and I'd meet them at the airport because I still had to go home and pack. Chloe was sleeping so peacefully that I didn't have the heart to wake her. So, I wrote Chloe a note and left. I went home, packed, and went straight to the airport."

Beca pulled out her phone and opened her camera app. She found the picture she was looking for and said, "See? I took a picture of her because she looked so peaceful laying there."

Stacie took the phone and looked at the picture. She smiled and handed the phone back to Beca.

"And Chloe didn't accept your explanation?" Stacie said.

"I don't know what she accepted," Beca said. "I texted her when my grandma died, and she never responded. I even tried to call her, but she didn't answer. And, now, every time I try to talk to her, she walks away or avoids being in the same place she knows I'll be. I don't know what I did to make her ghost me like that unless she regretted that night but doesn't have the guts to tell me. I'm surprised she didn't kick me out when I showed up for the bake-off."

"That doesn't sound like Chloe," Stacie said. "Something else must have happened."

"Like what?" Beca said. "Things were going great until we had sex."

"Maybe this bake-off thing will be your chance to make her talk to you," Stacie said. "I've got your back whenever you're ready to try talking to Chloe."

"And no more flirting just to rile up Chloe, okay?" Beca asked. "I really don't want her any madder at me than she already is."

"You've got it bad for her, huh?" Stacie asked.

"I'm in love with her, Stacie," Beca said.

"That's huge, Beca," Stacie said, sitting up straight. "I thought you were just having a bit of fun with her. I promise to behave."

"Then I'm in," Beca said. "Thanks, Stacie."

"No worries," Stacie said. "We'll put a plan in play tomorrow at the bake-off. After we're done, she'll be talking to you again."

Beca held out her beer bottle, and Stacie tapped it with her own. "Let's do it!"

~~ Day 20 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmas - 2020 ~~

The next day, Beca stood nervously at her baking station, waiting for Chloe to show up. She was barely listening to the schedule of the competition. A cheer went up when they mentioned the afternoon's challenge of the gingerbread house decorating.

Beca knew if they made it through the first round, they'd be hard to beat on the gingerbread challenge. Chloe made the best gingerbread around, and Beca had a special design ready to not only wow the judges but hopefully wow Chloe even more.

The gingerbread houses were not judged on taste alone. They were also judged on the originality and execution of their design.

Beca had done the competition enough times that she knew the day was broken down into two parts. The morning was set aside for the original cookie recipe, and the afternoon was the gingerbread house competition. For the original cookie, each team had to make four dozen cookies and be judged based on the recipe's originality, taste, and presentation.

Chloe still had not arrived, and the competition was about to start. They had not discussed the original recipe they were going to use, but Beca had one she had planned out.

"Alright, bakers," the announcer said, causing Beca to panic slightly. "You've got three hours to make four dozen cookies, using an original cookie recipe of you and your partner's creation. Your time starts now!"

Beca and the rest of the competitors started hustling around their stations. Beca kept stealing glances over at the door, expecting Chloe to come through them. Her heart grew heavier every time she looked up and didn't see Chloe.

Beca had not noticed Stacie making her way over to her.

"Don't worry, Beca," Stacie said, causing Beca to jump. "I'm sure Chloe will be here. She's not the type to leave anyone hanging."

"I'm not worried yet," Beca said. "I have the original cookie recipe challenge handled. I just need her to show up in time for the gingerbread challenge."

"Feeling extra confident, are you?" Stacie teased, causing Beca to laugh.

"Rightfully, so," Beca replied. "We have won it four times in a row for a reason. Shouldn't you be helping your partner?"

"Jessica has it covered," Stacie said with a shrug. "She only needs me when it's time to dip the cookies in the chocolate."

"Is she trying her chocolate-covered mint cookie again?" Beca asked.

"Yep," Stacie said. "She's been tweaking it since last year. She thinks this is her year to take down Team BeChloe."

Beca laughed and shook her head. Stacie turned her head when she heard Jessica calling her.

"I gotta go," Stacie said and went back to her station.

~~ Day 20 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmas - 2020 ~~

Beca had pulled the last tray of peanut butter cookies out of the oven and set them on the counter. She checked her banana filling and got her piping bags ready. She laid out the two dozen that had been cooling and began piping the banana filling on a cookie; she then placed a second cookie on top.

"What did you make, Beca?" Stacie asked from her station.

"I call them Chloe's Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich Cookies," Beca said.

"How did you come up with that?" Jessica asked.

"From Chloe," Beca said. "She told me her mom used to make her peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch practically every day when she was in elementary school. I thought it would bring back some nice memories for her."

"They sound good, Beca," Jessica said.

"She's so whipped," Stacie mumbled to Jessica, causing Jessica to laugh.

Beca put two cookies together and walked over to Jessica and Stacie. She held the cookies out and said, "Would you two taste these? I need to know if I have enough banana flavor in the filling."

"Sure, Beca, we'll try them," Stacie said, taking both cookies and handing one to Jessica.

Jessica bit into her cookie and frowned.

"What's wrong, Jess?" Beca asked, looking worried. "Do they taste bad?"

"No," Jessica said. "They taste amazing. I kind of hate you right now."

"She's right, Beca," Stacie said, chewing on her cookie. "These are really good. And it has the perfect amount of banana flavor."

"Thanks," Beca said. "I was hoping Chloe would be the taste tester, but she's still not here."

~~ Day 20 of the 25 Days of BeChloe Christmas - 2020 ~~

Beca was standing at Stacie and Jessica's station while waiting for the judges to come back and announce the winners of the original cookie recipe challenge.

"There's Chloe," Stacie said, causing Beca to look over at the door.

"Seriously?" Beca said. "I texted her, and she didn't have the courtesy even to respond. And now she waltzes in here like she isn't over three hours late."

"Go talk to her before the judges come back," Stacie said.

"What if we talk and she tells me she actually hates me?" Beca asked.

"What if she tells you she loves you?" Stacie said. "Problem solved."

Beca chewed her lip and once again looked over at Chloe.

"Go ahead, Beca," Stacie said. "We have a few minutes before the judges come back."

Beca sighed and slowly made her way over to her baking station. Getting there just as Chloe did.

"Hey," Chloe said.

"Hey?" Beca snapped. "Seriously? You come in late, missing almost the entire first challenge, and all you can say is, hey? Unbelievable!"

"What do you want from me, Beca?" Chloe asked.

"What I want from you is for you to tell me why you've been ignoring me?" Beca whisper-yelled. "Do you really hate me that much?"

Chloe's mouth dropped open. She lowered her voice and said, "I don't hate you. And I didn't start ignoring you until you left me to wake up alone after we had sex. How do you think that made me feel?"

"I left you a note!" Beca whisper-yelled.

"No, you didn't," Chloe whisper-yelled back.

"Yes, I did," Beca said. "You were sleeping so peacefully I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Why did you leave then?"

"I explained it all in the note!"

"There wasn't a note!" Chloe repeated, her frustration with Beca even more evident. "Just tell me why you left."

"Because I had to go to Maine," Beca said, getting irritated. "My grandmother had an accident, and they didn't think she was going to make it, so my dad and I flew up to see her before she passed. We barely made it before she died."

"Your grandmother died?' Chloe asked, moving her arm to reach out to Beca, only to drop it back down to her side when Beca flinched away from Chloe.

"She did," Beca said. "And you would know this if you hadn't ignored my texts or my phone call. My grandmother died, and the one person I thought would be there for me didn't even acknowledge me. How do you think that made me feel?"

Beca wiped a tear from her eye. She turned and said over her shoulder, "I'm sorry I bothered you. It won't happen again."

Chloe stood, unmoving as Beca walked away. She didn't know what to say. She wiped a tear that fell down her cheek.

"Chloe?" Stacie said as she walked up to the redhead. "Are you okay?"

"No," Chloe said, wiping the tears from her face.

"Did Beca tell you about the note?" Stacie asked.

Chloe just nodded and said, "She mentioned it, but I swear there wasn't any note."

Stacie looked over at Beca, standing across the room with her back against the wall. She could see Beca was crying.

"Chloe," Stacie said. "Are you sure there wasn't a note? Could it have fallen under the bed or something?"

"I guess anything is possible," Chloe mumbled. "But, it's been over two weeks. I'm sure I would have found it by now if there was one."

"Wait here," Stacie said. "I just thought of something."

Stacie rushed over to Beca. Beca wiped her face when she saw Stacie coming toward her.

"Beca, can I see that picture again?" Stacie asked. "The one you took of Chloe before you left that morning?"

"Why?" Beca asked.

"Something's been bugging me about it since you first showed it to me," Stacie said. "Let me see it; maybe I can figure it out."

"I don't know what you expect to see," Beca said. "It's just Chloe sleeping."

Beca pulled out her phone and opened the camera app; she found Chloe's picture and held the phone out to Stacie. Stacie took the phone and looked at it. She squinted and then used two fingers to enlarge the photo.

"Aha!" Stacie cried out. "It's there!"

"What's there?" Beca asked, wiping her cheeks.

"Your note," Stacie said. "It's in the picture, see?"

Beca looked at her phone and smiled.

"And, you can clearly read most of what the note said," Stacie said. "You have to show this to Chloe."

"Ladies and gentleman, we ask that all bakers return to your stations," a voice called out, garnering everyone's attention. "We are ready to announce the winners of the first challenge."

"Take this," Stacie said, shoving the phone into Beca's hands. "And prove to Chloe you left a note."

Beca took the phone and hurried over to her baking station. She slowed down when she saw Chloe glaring at her with her arms crossed over her chest.

Beca looked down at her phone and back up to Chloe. She turned her phone off and put it in her back pocket. She went to her station and stood close to Chloe but would not look at her. Beca kept her eyes to the front the whole time.

The announcer went through the winner's list, starting with the team in tenth place. They were down to the second-place team.

"And in second place," the announcer said. "With their chocolate-dipped mint cookies, Team Conrad/Smith!"

Stacie and Jessica squealed and ran up to the judge to get their 2nd place ribbon.

"And now, first place in the original recipe category," the announcer said. "With Chloe's Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich Cookies, Team Beale/Mitchell!"

Everyone started clapping. Jessica and Stacie were yelling, "Way to go, BeChloe!"

Chloe's mouth dropped open in shock; Beca went up to the judges and accepted their first-place ribbon. She came back and threw it on the table in front of Chloe.

"This belongs to you," Beca said.

"You named your cookie after me?" Chloe said. "What made you do that?"

"Because you're the one who gave me the idea for it," Beca said.

"I did?" Chloe said.

"Yeah, you did," Beca said. "You once told me how your mother always made you peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch when you were in elementary school."

"You remember that?" Chloe asked. "I told you that years ago."

"I remember a lot of things you told me, Chloe," Beca said, reaching to retrieve a cookie. "Here, try it."

Beca handed Chloe her namesake cookie, and Chloe bit into it.

"Oh, my God, Becs," Chloe said. "It tastes just like the peanut butter and banana sandwiches I remember."

Chloe sighed and looked down at the table. "Becs, I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the note. I should have known you wouldn't lie about something like that. I am truly sorry."

"If you need me to, I can prove I left you a note," Beca said, pulling out her phone.

Chloe put a hand over Beca's, stopping her. "That's not necessary," Chloe said. "I'm serious, I believe you. I really do."

"There was something else in that note that you need to know about," Beca said.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"I said, I, um," Beca stammered. "I said I love you. That night was really special to me, and I couldn't leave without telling you how I felt. Even if it was in a note."

Chloe's eyes widened, and before Beca knew it, Chloe pulled Beca to her and crashed their lips together. Stacie and Jessica could be heard yelling and cheering. Chloe started laughing and pulled back from the kiss.

"I love you, too, Becs," Chloe said just before reattaching her lips to Beca's.

Later that night, Beca and Chloe were lying on Chloe's sofa. Beca was on cloud nine; not only had she gotten the girl, but they had won the Barden Bake-off for an unprecedented fifth time.

"I can't believe you made up an original cookie recipe using one of my favorite sandwiches from when I was a kid," Chloe murmured as she laid snuggled up with Beca. "And I love that for the gingerbread challenge you designed a replica of a campsite because I told you how much I loved going camping with my family."

"I wanted you to know how I feel about you," Beca said. "I thought using some of your childhood memories would let you know I was paying attention all this time."

Beca looked at the time and noticed it was after Midnight. She smiled as she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Chloe," just before kissing Chloe again.

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

A/N: I know, I know; Christmas has been over and it's now March. But life has a way of interrupting some things. And I've always said I will never abandon a story or leave it unfinished, so this is me keeping my promise. Days 20-22 are done and will be posted today. Days 23-25 are still being edited and revamped a bit and will be posted in a couple of days. And that will truly end Christmas 2020 for me. Thank you all for your patience and your kind words along the way.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Christmas 2020

[binch-i-might-be]

The More You Know

This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.

Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao

also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)

POV first person, wordcount 3.1k

The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.

I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.

I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.

»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.

»Yes. Or something.«

He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.

She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.

Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«

»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.

He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«

I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«

»What?«

»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«

He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.

»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.

»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.

»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«

»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.

»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.

We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.

»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.

»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.

I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.

»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.

»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.« 

I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.

»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.

»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«

»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.

»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.

»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.

Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.

I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.

In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.

To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.

Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.

When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.

Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.

Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.

Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.

»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«

»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«

At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«

»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«

I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«

Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.

I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.

»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«

He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«

I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«

He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«

I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«

He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«

Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«

Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«

For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?

»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«

He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.

I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.

»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.

»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.

»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«

And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.

»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.

He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«

His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«

»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.

»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«

He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe. 

»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«

Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.

»Probably,« I answered, grinning.

Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.

Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.

»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.

The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.

I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«

»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«

»Yep.«

He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«

I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.

»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«

Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.

Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.

Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.

»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.

I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«

At that, he only looked offended.

»No offence, Alex,« I said.

»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«

»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«

»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«

I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare. 

»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«

»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«

Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«

I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.

»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«

»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«

I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.

Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.

»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.

He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.

»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.

»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.

#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this #ray was really going through it #short story #unfinished #i really stopped writing this mid dialogue #very iconic of me #rayrambles

[artificialqueens]

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

#rpdr fanfiction #juno #down with the recipe #rpdr uk #uk2 #taywhora #asttina x bimini #tia x veronica #ellie x lawrence #tayce #a'whora #asttina mandella #bimini bon boulash #ginny lemon #lawrence chaney #tia kofi #veronica green #ellie diamond #cherry valentine #gbbo au #lesbian au #fluff

[trashyswitch]

The Adorable Slimy Stranger

Chapter 2: Holidays With The Sides (& Pumpkin!)

The sides are nearing Christmas, and are getting ready to celebrate and share the joy with their new companion, Pumpkin!

This fanfic was suggested by an anonymous user! Thank you for the prompt for a sequel!

And this fanfic is also dedicated to Pumpkinpaw! Love you sweety!

Pumpkin had become a regular household companion within the next few weeks. When deciding what pronouns to use, the sides had put down papers that said ‘Boy’, ‘Girl’, and ‘both’, to mean they/them.

“Do you wanna be a girl? As in, a good girl?” Patton asked, pointing to the pink card.

“Or perhaps a boy? A good boy?” Logan offered, pointing to the blue card.

“Or maybe you wanna be both! Maybe ‘buddy’, or ‘good pumpa’?” Roman asked, holding up the purple card.

Patton gasped. “That’s such a cute nickname! Pumpa! I love it!” Patton cheered, hugging Roman.

Pumpkin looked at the three cards curiously for a few seconds. Right as someone was gonna speak up, Pumpkin picked up the pink card, pointed to it and tried to gurgle the word ‘girl’ as best as it could!

Patton and Roman both squealed excitedly, while Logan smiled proudly. “Girl it is. Pumpkin shall now be referred to as a female, until she shows us otherwise.” Logan declared.

“I’m still gonna call her lil’ pumpa tho! It’s perfect!” Patton added, giving Pumpkin a big hug.

“And she has at least 1 new nickname.” Logan muttered proudly with a chuckle.

To make things greater, it was nearing Christmas and EVERYONE was getting into the christmas mood!

Patton has been watching all the Hallmark movies and decorating the house with all the tinsel and lights he could summon. He also took time to hang up the advent calendars and had an elf hat on his head every second of the day!

Logan has been drinking out of christmas mugs, determining the holiday board games they could play together, and has been listening to different christmas music covers to determine the most beautiful and/or most classic versions. Using that knowledge, Logan successfully came up with the most christmassy playlist he could make, which also included songs from classic christmas films! And let’s not forget Bing Crosby and Pentatonix!

Roman has been singing christmas carols himself and wrapping up endless amounts of presents to fill the bottom of the christmas tree. He’s also spent lots of time making ornaments to add to the tree and was even sewing up adorable christmas outfits for Patton and himself! Remus even got an early Christmas outfit, which included a ‘King of Naughty’ original Grinch shirt.

Meanwhile, Virgil has been enjoying the heck outta the christmas sweaters that came out each year. This year? Thomas’s brand new Virgil-themed sweater merchandise Thomas came out with! Well...minus the scarf. Virgil found the scarf to be too much with the sweater. So, he gave it to Patton. Virgil has also been enjoying the holiday slippers! This year, Virgil was sporting a pair of hilarious shark slippers! Sometimes, Virgil would joke that ‘The sharks are hungry for feet!’

Janus has been enjoying watching the christmas baking shows and has been playing lots of christmas flash games that are always around. Super Santa Kicker, Christmas Race, Christmas Shopper Simulator (10/10, Best game of 2014!), Tattletail, Santa’s Rampage, even that crappy christmas wii game called ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’! All of those games were common-place.

Last but not least, Remus has been doing the elf on the shelf this year (with a small list of rules, of course.) and has been surprising people with singing and dancing christmas decorations everywhere! There was the animated singing rudolph, the twerking Santa Claus toy (Yup...Of course…), the singing and jingling christmas hat, that cringey but funny dancing/singing poop toy, an animated dancing tree, the animated singing santa in the bathtub, and everyone’s personal favorite: The Snoopy dancing plush toy that wobbles back and forth!

But everyone found that Pumpkin was ALSO in the christmas mood! The sides enjoyed seeing her reactions to the dancing toys the best, and even danced along with the toys sometimes! She waddled along with snoopy, danced left and right with the dancing tree, and sang to the Rudolph song while Rudolph sang the classic song!

Meanwhile, Patton had sewed up a christmas hat for Pumpkin. The hat had a more burgundy red color, a traditional white bottom and a white pom pom on the top. When Patton first gave it to the orange blob, Pumpkin placed it on her own head and let the pompom flop onto her face. Upon seeing the pompom, it looked as if her eyes could’ve dilated and she started playing with the pompom like a kitty. That was the best reaction they could’ve gotten from her!

One of the days, Pumpkin was sitting in the living room with the sides, watching The Polar Express on TV. This was a holiday classic that the sides loved to watch together. So joining Pumpkin in on the fun was a must! The train had just been saved from falling into the ice, and the train climbed up the spiral to the high road to the north pole. Pumpkin had slid herself over to Roman and Patton, and snuggled under the extra blanket that was beside the boys. Pumpkin was also wearing her santa hat!

Watching the pretty lights in the sky over the sea, Pumpkin watched curiously as the big conductor man talked to them about them and then uttered the following words: “There...is the north POLE!”

Pumpkin ran as quickly as her body could to the TV and reached up to the north pole on the TV. She backed up a little and held her hands on her chin as the train approached the Santa Village and The Polar Express song started playing! The song was so quick and fun, and it didn’t take long for Pumpkin to start bouncing up and down to the song while she watched the camera move under the twisting train road arches.

“Oooooo!” Pumpkin reacted to seeing the Santa city for the first time.

Patton’s heart was all warm and gushing at Pumpkin’s reactions. Roman was visibly excited about the village as well!

The christmas spirit went uphill from there. Pumpkin learned about the big old man in red known as Santa and his big bag of toys, his deers with horns, and about the big man’s magical powers! He especially loved the amount of joy that filled the sides when they talked about the man wearing red. Whoever this red-coated man was, made the sides so happy! Almost as happy as she makes them! And not only that, but the man in the red suit had a hat just like she did! She was bouncing around and clapping about that!

But excitement soon turned into disappointment when she found out she had to wait for the man in the red suit to come. She didn’t want to wait for the happy old man to come! She wanted to see him now! NOW! She whimpered and paced around the house as she struggled to wait for the old man to come. So while they waited, Logan grabbed a paper and some crayons and let Pumpkin draw a picture for Santa. While that happened, Logan wrote a short christmas letter out for her which read:

[Dear Santa Claus;

Hi Santa! My name is Pumpkin! I just found out about you and the elves in the north pole, and really wanted to see you! I’m sad that I have to wait for you to come, but I’ll try to find fun things to do while I wait for you. For Christmas, I would like lots of candy! Candy is so yummy! And skittles are my favorite! I also love Patton’s crunchy gingerbread cookies! That day, I discovered icing! And it made me bounce off the walls! I would also like for everyone to be extra happy this Christmas. I’m making people happy everyday, but now I can let you make everyone happy too.

Love; Pumpkin! ]

Logan put the letter down, and looked at the picture Pumpkin drew. It was a picture of herself tickling Santa Claus’s belly. Logan couldn’t help but giggle at how Santa’s belly in the picture made him look like he was pregnant. He also giggled at the big smile that was all spread out on Santa’s face. Logan praised her on a drawing well done, and decided to add something to the letter:

[P.S: Your belly looks very big and ticklish!]

Logan grabbed the drawing Pumpkin made, photocopied it, and put the copied version of the drawing in the envelope along with the letter. With everything ready, Logan sealed it shut. “There. Off to the North Pole!” Logan declared to Pumpkin!

Logan mailed it off in the post office a day later.

With Christmas on its way and Pumpkin stuck in a bit of an antsy wait for the magic, Pumpkin started to tickle people a little more often than usual. Any other time of the year, Pumpkin would tickle at least 1 person a day. But with Christmas around the corner and Pumpkin growing hyper, Pumpkin had started tickling all the sides at least once a day! So her tickle attacks jumped from 1 or 2, to 6 every single day!

“NAHAHAHAHAHA! PUHUHUMPKIHIHIHIHIN! NAHAHAHAT MYHYHY AHAHARMPIHIHITS! TOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHIHISH!” Roman laughed hysterically!

Pumpkin tilted her head curiously, and chose to remove her pods from the armpits like he begged. Roman quickly tried to gain back his breath, but Pumpkin still wanted to hear laughter! So, she made her pod super thin like a pencil and dipped it into his belly button.

“aAAAAEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! *snort* HAHAHAHAHAHA! *snort* NOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!” Roman yelled through his laughter.

Pumpkin playfully stuck her tongue out at him and started to playfully nibble and ripple her blob-like body all over his belly.

Roman’s snorts grew more frequent and his laughter turned cackle-like. It was so ticklish! He was struggling to properly breath! But it was so fun! Roman had been tickled many, many, MANY times by Patton in the past. But THIS!

Holy cow!

Patton’s tickling was NOTHING compared to this!

Pumpkin decided to give him another ticklish, jiggly raspberry to get him squealing. And squealing, she was rewarded! Roman squealed so loud and so high-pitched, that Pumpkin stopped immediately just to process the strange sound!

Roman was a laughing, snorting mess after the squeal. And Pumpkin was loving every millisecond of it. As much as she was enjoying it however, Pumpkin knew when to give the man a long, giggly break. This would involve cuddling her ticklish victim and gently tickling a much less ticklish spot on their body to keep them giggling, but also let them breathe. For Roman, this was his neck.

“Ohohohohohokahahahahahay. Thahahahank yohohohou Puhuhumpkihin!” Roman told her.

Pumpkin smiled and gave his neck a tickly kiss on the neck. Roman giggled more from that, and calmed down the moment her ‘lips’ moved away from his neck. Pumpkin kept up her giggly tickling for a little bit longer before she went for Janus next.

Now, Pumpkin didn’t quite know Janus nearly as much as she knew the rest of the sides. She had even grown to know Remus quicker, than compared to Janus! The half man half snake in yellow, was more mysterious and...preferred his lonely time. So, she gave him his lonely time for the most part. She did come around to see if he was up for a tickle or two, but often walked away empty-handed, yet gaining some progress.

Finally, after weeks and weeks of trying, Pumpkin finally gained the courage to tickle Janus for the first time. She walked up to Janus’s side very quietly...geeently snuck her pod hand under the snake man’s shirt...and gave it a quick tickle.

“eeEEP! WHAT-” Janus turned around and immediately calmed down. Pumpkin made a surprised yip sound, and backed up a little to give him space. “Hi Pumpkin. Sorry about that. I...totally heard you come in.” Janus told her.

...Oh yeah...and then there was the strange way he talked to her and the other sides. He said things backwards. Like just now: if he actually heard her come in, then why was he so surprised and jumpy?

Things like that didn’t make sense to her. But what did make sense, was his calming face. “You tried to tickle me today. You...finally tried and tickled me. And it worked.” Janus told her.

Pumpkin didn’t really know what to do. She was confused. Was anything he was saying, supposed to be backwards? Or normal? Pumpkin couldn’t tell. But all that thinking went right out the window when Janus held his arms out for her. He wanted a hug from her! There was no saying no to THAT! Pumpkin quickly slid up to him and hugged him tightly.

“Wow! You have a very snug and firm hug for a jello being.” Janus admitted.

Jello? Like that blue jiggly stuff that Logan made once?

Pumpkin let him enjoy the hug for a bit. She wanted him to feel safe in her grasp. And perhaps, she may not get any tickles in today. But the only thing that mattered now, is that Janus could be hugged now.

“...Aren’t you gonna tickle me more?” Janus asked.

Pumpkin widened her black eyes. Wait, REALLY?! HE WAS GONNA LET HER TICKLE HIM?! This was what she was waiting for! 16 days of working up to this! And now, she can tickle him!

Pumpkin happily started skittering her pods all over his sides and ribs almost immediately! “Ohoho bohohoy! Hehehere wehehe gohohohoho!” Janus giggled and let go of her so she could get more access to more exposed ticklish spots. Pumpkin happily took the offer and made more pseudopods so she could tickle more spots at once. This was like a special attack that Pumpkin would pull on someone. “aaAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOU’RE SURPRIHIHISIHIHINGLY GOHOHOOD AHAHAT THIHIHIHIS!” Janus reacted in surprise.

Pumpkin gurgled happily to Janus and continued to tickle Janus wherever she could reach. The upside to having such a jiggly form, was just how well she could kneed the soft spots on her humans! This included the sides and his belly the most. Janus held his fists against his chest as his giggle fits, squeals and laughter filled his bedroom.

Pumpkin absolutely loved his laugh! It was much more bubbly and higher than she expected! It was such an amazing laugh, that Pumpkin chose to give him jiggly raspberries as well! He seemed like the kind of human that would love them! Pumpkin blew a raspberry on his sensitive belly and let her blobby, jello-like body flubber and jiggle to increase the ticklish sensation.

Janus fell into long fits of cackles! He couldn’t stop cackling! Now that he had reached the cackle-stage, there was just no going back! His laughter somewhat reminded Pumpkin of Patton’s laughter: bubbly, childish, and the musical representation of happiness. Though Janus’s wasn’t exactly like his, it was close enough.

“OHOHOKAHAHAHAY! CAHAHAN IHIHIHI HAHAHAVE AHA BREHEHEHEAK PLEHEHEHEASE?” Janus asked.

Pumpkin nodded her head and stopped tickling him almost immediately. As much as she enjoyed the sound of his laughter, she didn’t wanna overdo it. So Pumpkin snuggled herself into Janus and cooed softly.

Janus giggled at this and wrapped his arms around her. “Growing tired?” He asked.

Pumpkin nodded and snuggled herself even further into him.

“That’s ironic, considering I was the one getting tickled.” He joked.

Pumpkin let out a giggly little gurgle as she slowly succumb to her sleepiness. It didn’t take long for the tiredness to start dripping right off her and onto Janus, effecting him as well. Now Janus was growing more and more tired by the second. Janus decided he minus well cuddle himself in and get himself comfy.

It didn’t take long for Janus to fall into a full and deep slumber. It lasted a long while too. Janus didn’t expect to wake up to the smell of garlic or the sounds of something boiling. The garlic was an obvious thing to put together: garlic bread. But boiling? That could be anything!

This boiling sound would end up revealing itself to be spaghetti noodles in a deep pot. As it turned out, Patton was making spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. For Pumpkin, she was gonna have gummy worms with a new little christmas treat for Pumpkin: a Peppermint Pattie! Patton gave her one to try, and had a few unwrapped in a bowl in case she loved it and wanted more.

Pumpkin picked up the peppermint pattie first. She looked at it curiously, split it into two pieces, and ate one of the halves hesitantly. But the moment she chewed on it and actually tasted the pattie, her eyes widened and a HUGE smile grew onto her face!

Remus giggled as he spun his spaghetti. “Ihi think Pumpkin likes the peppermint pattie!” Remus told him.

Patton looked over and sure enough, Pumpkin was standing below him and eagerly reaching her pods out for more peppermint patties! Patton laughed and happily put more peppermint patties onto her dinner plate. Pumpkin happily bounced in place as she ate the gummy worms and enjoyed the taste of the brand new holiday treat.

#lee!janus #lee!roman #ler!999 #ticklefic #christmas #the polar express #santa claus #tooth-rotting fluff #literally...there is so much fluff #i swear i'm not trying to kill people #there's just tons of fluff

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 2

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Jennifer Jareau is having boyfriend troubles. Emily Prentiss tries to help and offers her cookies. 

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Jennifer Jareau tossed her phone down onto her bed and grit her teeth.

“What do you mean I can’t come visit?” He had texted her, “I’m your boyfriend.”

JJ huffed.  She couldn’t deal with this right now, it was too much. Classes were kicking her ass, and she barely had enough time to breathe let alone entertain her long-distance boyfriend.

She glanced at her whiteboard calendar, noting how the next week was absolutely covered in deadlines, tests and games all written in different colours in her small, neat handwriting.

She had this essay to do tonight, a midterm to study for tomorrow, close to two-hundred pages of readings and a dozen other commitments. On top of that she had promised her friend that they would apply to work in student government next week and she had some applications to fill out for that.

He didn’t seem to understand that she was balancing her increasingly challenging full course load, playing varsity soccer and trying to maintain her friendships with people who were actually still in the same city as her.

Finding herself working up to a panic, JJ realized she needed to calm down or she was going to have a full-blown anxiety attack and that was the last thing she needed.  

She was alone in her dorm room, feeling particularly alone without Penelope Garcia’s cheery presence on the other side of the room to keep her company. Penelope was currently at the library, working on some sort of group coding project and JJ didn’t expect her home until much later.

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, held it in, and then let it out through her mouth.

She reached under her blankets and retrieved her stuffed animal, a bunny she had named Fluffy when she was little, and clutched it to her chest, falling back into her bed. While she debated bringing him to college, JJ hadn’t slept a single night without the toy by her side, and she wasn’t about to start any time soon. She still remembers the time Rosaline helped her sew a shirt for him to wear. After her sister died, JJ found herself clinging onto Fluffy as much as she did when she was a kid.

She stared at her ceiling and her rows of fairy lights twinkled back to her. To her left, a photo of her and William LaMontagne Jr. smiled mockingly at her. He had his arm thrown casually across her shoulder, and she was leaning into his chest. It was from prom. Her hair was in long curls and a deep navy dress made her feel like a princess. Will matched her pocket square. He was looking at her with utter adoration while she smiled into the camera.

Things were so much simpler in high school when she had one goal, one focus: getting out. Last year was a rush of excitement, with everything feeling new and exciting that she blamed all her relationship problems on being overwhelmed with the transition. She promised Will, back when she was home this past summer, that things would be different this year, that they would have more time for each other.

What she meant was that she would make more time for him.

So far, she had not held up her side of the bargain. It was already October and she had not come home once, despite how she had promised to visit whenever she had a spare weekend. He was right to complain that he was always the one to call her, and not the other way around.

Now Will was coming to visit her, and despite her placating words, she really wished he didn’t. She couldn’t handle it.

She bit her lip. Why couldn’t she just be happy with her nice boyfriend who springs surprise visits on her? She understood why he was upset with her. He already bought his ticket and JJ did say that she wanted him to visit.

But now that it was happening she felt overwhelmed with the prospect.

She had noticed the weight lifting off her shoulders this fall, as she spent more and more time away from home. Away from him.

Which was so, deeply, incredibly selfish of her. They were nearing two years. Two perfectly nice years together. He always dealt with all of her baggage with such grace, her family loved him, and they had all these mutual friends who were talking about how JJ and Will were definitely going to get married.

Here, at college, JJ was just JJ. She wasn’t JJ and Will or JJ with the dead sister. He tethered her back to her life, her town. What she was desperately trying to get away from.

A hot, angry tear fell out of her eye and dripped down her cheek. She sat up.

Pulling a zip up sweater over her current outfit of sweat pants and a sports bra, JJ decided that tea would make her feel better. She tugged her long, blonde hair up in a high ponytail, wiping the last of the wetness of her face with her sleeve. She put her lanyard with the key around her neck, not really caring how she looked.

She needed to get back to her essay as soon as possible. She had wasted too much time on her fight already. Tea would help. Tea would get her brain working again and calm her down.

Whenever she couldn’t sleep, or she was up late studying for a test, her mom would always knock on her door, softly, and smile as she brought in a large cup.  When she sent JJ off to college, it was with a bright pink tin full of assorted tea bags and a new mug with a rabbit on it. Holding onto it made JJ smile.

Walking down the hall in her socked feet, with her tea, mug and packets of sugar in her arms, JJ made her way to the communal kitchen. JJ found that she was quite angry with herself for not listening to her mom and buying a kettle so she didn’t have to leave her room for hot water.

She made a mental note to order one online.

In the meantime, she passed through the common area and walked into the kitchen, which smelled amazing.

The air was filled with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies. It surrounded her like a hug, reminding her of baking with her grandmother when she was little.

She looked around the tiny kitchen, which was on the smaller side, populated with a round table, a couple of fridges, a microwave, the oven and stove top and the old kettle, which was the target of JJ’s visit.

JJ opened the oven and peered in, peeking at the beautiful cookies which looked about halfway done. Not quite golden brown yet, but definitely melting into shape.

She wondered who would be baking cookies at—she checked her watch—eleven at night on a Tuesday, but I guess it was college and anything goes here.

Seeming to answer JJ’s question, the kitchen door opened, revealing her neighbour Emily, who was wearing a baggy black shirt that was for a band that JJ had never heard before and colourful, cat patterned, PJ pants. She seemed startled to find JJ gazing down into the oven.  

“Admiring my handiwork?” Emily said, and JJ pulled back from looking longingly at the oven.

“It’s a bit late for baking, isn’t it?” JJ blurted out, then immediately kicking herself, worrying that she may come off as rude.

Emily took her comments in stride, laughing and sitting down at the table. JJ turned and began to fill the kettle with water from the sink, flustered at her own accidental hostility.  

She hadn’t seen Emily for a while, since that house party last weekend, despite their dorm room doors facing one another.

The other girl was a bit of an enigma to JJ. They travelled in similar circles, at least the ones that didn’t revolve around soccer. But, by some twist of fate, they had only really talked beyond pleasantries for the first time outside of that bathroom.

“No,” Emily retorted, “Midnight is the perfect time. I usually have the kitchen to myself.”

“Oh sorry,” JJ said, feeling bad for interrupting and kicking herself for being so bold, “I just need the kettle, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I don’t mind a visitor,” Emily said, “I just meant that this floor is always so busy and loud during the day. It’s peaceful at night.”

Emily was right. Their floor, while not that bad of a party floor, had really thin walls and people were typically more than aware of each other’s business. JJ found that with some people, she either had overheard enough of their conversations or had been told most of their business by her very nosey roommate, Penelope.

But Emily seemed to keep to herself, mostly. Her room was decorated with band posters, a few photographs that JJ had always been a bit too far away to examine in much detail, and a fun tapestry hung over the head of her bed. She knew she often heard loud music from her room, long past quiet hours, but never too loud that it was annoying. She mostly saw her hang out in Derek Morgan’s room, and wondered if the two were dating. Their relationship looked a lot healthier than JJ had with Will, at least, whatever they were.

JJ clutched her tea cup as the kettle heated up, leaning against the counter. JJ bit at her lip as she realized she had left her phone upstairs, mid-fight with Will. The sinking feeling that was overwhelming her upstairs was beginning to settle back into her stomach after the momentary distraction.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

JJ didn’t realize that her expressions were that easily legible.

“I had a fight with my boyfriend,” JJ admits, surprising herself with sharing the information.

Typically she likes to lean into the put together perception that people have of her. JJ liked to keep the messy details to herself.

But, even in the cold glow of the fluorescent flights, there was something warm and friendly about Emily, despite her edgy aesthetic, that drew JJ in. Maybe it was the smell of cookies surrounding them that made her relax.

“Oh!” Emily says, “I’m sorry. What’d he do?”

“ He didn’t do anything. He’s wonderful,” JJ explained, “Uh- He’s too wonderful. He booked a surprise visit for next weekend but I have a midterm that Monday.”

“Ah shit,” Emily commiserated.

“There are a couple people who he knows in town so he wouldn’t be bored or anything, I just worry that I wouldn’t be able to focus on school if he was here.”

Emily nodded.

“I just wish he checked first.”

He did that a lot. He made decisions for her, all in the hopes of making her happy or making her life easier, and often at the expense of her plans or feelings. She just wished he had spoken to her beforehand this time.

The kettle boiled.

“Do you want any tea?” JJ asked Emily, secretly hoping she would be offered a cookie in exchange. “It’s uh-” she checked the label “-sleepy time.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“I think there’s some spare mugs here,” JJ said, retrieving one from the drying rack.

JJ filled the two mugs, letting the hot water mix with the fragrant tea, watching the water turn a warm and rich brown. The slightly minty blend of chamomile and various other fruity teas competed with the cookies for JJ’s senses.  

“That smells amazing,” Emily commented. “What kind of tea is it again?”

“You’ve never had sleepytime tea?” JJ giggled. “I feel like my mom made me and my sister drink it any time we had bad dreams or were up past our bedtimes.”

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Emily said, trying a sip of her tea.

“Yeah,” JJ said, sipping her warm drink and bracing herself for the other girl’s reaction. “I did.”

“Oh,” Emily said, stunned. “Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

Emily’s phone went off, her alarm for the cookies blaring through the tiny speakers, interrupting the pity before it started. Emily smiled at JJ softly before waking over to the tiny oven and lifted the baking sheet out, using a bunched up dishcloth as an impromptu oven mitt.

“So why cookies?” JJ asked, changing the subject. “Is there a bake sale or something?”

“No reason,” Emily replied, “They’re better than the cookies from the café. Sometimes you just gotta do things that make you happy.”

JJ nodded.

“Anyways it lets me de-stress. An hour out of my room when all I have to do is make sure I don’t burn cookies.”

“That is important,” JJ said, “I would rather not have to stand out in the rain in the middle of the night because someone burnt some cookies down here.”

“I would never,” Emily said, “Scouts honour. If I set off the fire alarm, I’d do it with something better, something more interesting, like actual arson.”

JJ choked on her tea, giggling at the other girl.

Emily was funny. And nice. She never got the chance to thank her for helping out at the party last week, getting her teammate Kennedy some water and keeping JJ company in the hallway.

Emily grinned, scooping the cookies off the tray and onto a small plate. She returned to the table they were sitting at and placed it in the middle of the table, tilting it towards JJ, offering her one.

“For me?” JJ asked.

“It’s the barter system,” Emily said, “tea for cookies. We’re making our own economy here on floor two.”

“That makes sense,” JJ said through a mouthful of cookie. They were delicious, gooey and chocolatey and oh soo warm.

“Good?” Emily asked.

“Very good.”

“So,” Emily said, “What are you going to do about your boyfriend thing?”

“I have no idea,” JJ admitted, “I don’t think long distance is working.”

Emily nodded, and JJ could feel her eyes watching her, waiting for JJ to say something.

“He was my high school sweetheart, you know? I didn’t want to do what all the other people going away to college and just break up because we were far away. I thought we could do it.”

She sighed.

“Sometimes,” Emily said softly, “People just grow apart. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

JJ looked into her cup of tea. Maybe she and Will were just growing apart. Maybe that’s what it was. He was at the police academy and seemed to have endless free time. He was always calling her, checking in, his focus was entirely on her and JJ felt so torn. She wasn’t just busy, she felt like she was missing out on her new life here every time she spent the evening on FaceTime with him.

She sighed, it was too late to be thinking about this too much, she still had work to do, she still had to get some semblance of a night’s sleep before her practise the next day.

“What really matters,” Emily continued, “Is if you enjoy spending time with him.”

JJ looked away.

“I mean,” Emily said, “Isn’t that the point of dating someone?”

Her heart thudded with the feelings that tied themselves into knots in her stomach. Did she even want him to come? Did she even miss him?

The answer was clear to her, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit it.

“Thank you for the cookies,” JJ said with a smile.

She stood up and collected her things.

“I should probably go back to my fight with him.”

Emily opened and then closed her mouth, visibly confused.

“I am currently mid-fight,” JJ explained. “I left my phone in my room. I just needed a break.”

She paused and sighed.

“I also have an essay due tomorrow morning that I have to finish.”

“That's a lot,” Emily said frowning in sympathy, “Another cookie for the road?”

JJ accepted the gift and left Emily with her cookies, hoping that she didn’t bother the girl too much with her relationship drama. Emily waved at her as she left.

She went back to her room and found her phone buzzing with missed calls from her boyfriend. Gone was the peace and calm that surrounded her in the kitchen as she ate cookies with her new friend Emily. JJ fell back into a pit of frustration as soon as she picked up her phone.

Her thumb hovered above the call button, as she instinctively went to call him back. She hesitated, and instead, she turned off her phone.

Placing it on her night stand, JJ opened up her laptop and began to edit her essay.

#criminal minds #criminal minds tv #criminal minds bau #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily #jemily cm #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #gravelyhumerus cm college au #college au #queerminal minds #criminal minds au #my post #yes emily stress bakes #yes emily has cat pjs #yes emily did check out jj in a sports bra it was hot #feel free to picture jj in an unzipped sports bra and sweat pants in this looking like an absolute snack #sorry this one is shorter i needed to actually make them get to know each other a touch before getting into the content

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable wives #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[angeltrapz]

chainshipping ask time <33 i think ive asked smthn similar b4 but uhh fav holidays? + following that, fav Things To Do on those holidays? (i like to think Adam always did his best to go Crazy on a halloween costume even if he was just gonna spend th night eating pizza + watching scary movies alone.. Anyways th tenderness of him doing Lawrence's gross SFX makeup for Halloween? yea <3)

Even if you did send me an ask like this b4, that’s perfectly fine!! God I LOVE talking abt holidays w ships omg ty!!!

Honestly? I think Lawrence’s favourite holiday would be Christmas. He likes having that extra time to spend with his family, he gets Really into decorating (one year Diana begged him to get one of those little reindeer decoration sets - the ones you can put on your car - and she used her best puppy eyes, and how could he say no to that???), makes a big thing about the three of them (as in Adam, Lawrence, and Diana) decorating the tree together, popcorn balls and everything, and for Adam it’s definitely like... an adjustment thing? He doesn’t mind it at all, he finds it rather cute actually, but it’s a vast difference from his childhood + the way his family treated celebrating Christmas. He Does love gaudy Christmas sweaters, though; the worse they are, the better. (You know that one with the gingerbread man that says Let’s Get Baked? Adam has that. Fucking dork. It was a gift from David. He got Lar one that says Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animals and he unironically loves it, esp bc Adam picked it out. Adam Also has one that’s Labyrinth themed bc he likes that movie. I love them???)

As for like, specific traditions, they settle in on the couch or make a huge pillow fort (ESP if they have Diana!! Adam is just so good at building them...) with hot chocolate, some sugar cookies (that Lawrence + Diana made n decorated, w Adam’s help), maaaybe some popcorn, but that depends + Diana’s usually the one eating it, they’re all in their pajamas, and they watch a couple movies!! Specifically the Rankin/Bass ones. Diana’s (and mine!) favourite is Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town, Lawrence can’t help but be fond of Frosty The Snowman, and Adam needs to watch Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer at least once (it’s the one he watched the most in his childhood + he’s just attached to it. Don’t tell anyone that the isle of forgotten toys makes him cry sometimes). Diana gets to open one present on Christmas Eve that she gets to pick out, so long as it’s not a “big” one, and it’s just a nice evening <3

A big thing at first, though, is that Adam like... isn’t used to receiving gifts, especially any that exceed $20, and Lawrence’s heart is just so big and he likes to spoil Adam bc in his mind he deserves it!! He loves him!! But the first Christmas they spend together, Adam had just begun using his camera again two months before, but he was having a hard time w it bc of the flash + it having gotten roughed up a little when it was taken for evidence when he was still missing. It was just. Hard for Lar to watch him struggle like that. Esp when he was wanting to pursue his passion again. So he got him a new camera, one without a flash so he didn’t have to deal with it.

And when Adam opened it he just... had to sit there for a moment because. Holy shit. No one has ever spent money on him like that, esp on something like a brand new camera, and for a long moment he was just. Silent. And Lawrence was panicking bc oh god did he mess up?? But Adam got up off of the floor where he was sitting (he’d been passing the presents out w some help from Diana, who had excitedly handed him the one w his name on it) and moved to where Lawrence was sitting on the couch, but he didn’t sit down - he stood in front of Lawrence for a little bit, quiet, and then leaned forward and kinda pulled Lawrence’s head against his chest and he just. Sighed. Low and shaky. That’s when Lawrence kinda understood what was happening, because he knew that meant Adam was a little overwhelmed, so he just kinda wrapped his arms around his middle and was like “Are you okay??”, which prompted Diana to ask the same question.

All he said was, “You didn’t have to do that,” and then, quieter, “I love you.” And Lawrence just grins bc yeah he didn’t have to, but he wanted to, because he loves him, and he makes sure to tell Adam that. Adam cried a little bit after that. It’s bc he was happy, but that kinda helped to put it into perspective for Lawrence, so he toned it down a little bit after that.

Lawrence is also Super Fond of Valentine’s Day, and Adam used to hate it - just didn’t rlly see the point of it - but, well,, the first Valentine’s they spend together after the bathroom, he started to see the appeal of it. They didn’t do anything too involved (neither of them wanted to deal with reservations in packed restaurants or anything like that), just a nice at-home dinner with some wine (Adam isn’t super into wine, but he likes it enough; Lawrence is the one who rlly likes it), sitting down together and talking and laughing, bumping hips when they clean up + take care of the dishes together after. It’s so simple and yet it’s so, so meaningful for both of them, and Adam finds it hard to dislike it so much after that.

+ YES I agree that Adam’s fave holiday is Halloween + that he goes all out on costumes regardless of if he’s staying home or not!!! Lawrence and Alison alternate holidays, so when it’s Lawrence’s turn, the two of them take Diana trick-or-treating and honestly? It’s a lot more fun than Halloweens previous had been for Lar!! He always has fun watching Diana run around and get excited about how much candy she’s gotten, but Adam is just as enthusiastic, and it kinda rubs off on Lawrence. Sure, he’s not running around, but he’s definitely more Into It. He kinda lets Adam do whatever he wants in regards to SFX makeup bc he loves seeing how focused Adam gets, tip of his tongue poking out, squinting a little and keeping his touch gentle but still firm enough to make sure stuff adheres + to even out details... it takes him a little while to realize that Lawrence is just heart eyes the whole time. Like thee softest gaze there’s ever been, even if he’s not quite smiling bc he doesn’t want to disrupt Adam’s work. It’s just a nice moment for them + the result is always killer, so it’s definitely worth it!! (Adam’s had quite a bit of experience w SFX since he learned early on how to do it w some help from David growing up!)

If they don’t have Diana, Lawrence prefers not to dress up, but he’s still supportive of Adam if he wants to lol. They get their biggest bowl and put a bunch of candy in it to set on their doorstep with a sign that says “take 2,” and then they stay inside for the night (Adam is Very insistent abt the candy bowl lmao!! He wants the trick-or-treaters to have fun!!). I like the idea that they just kind of watch a couple horror movies, sharing some leftover candy and snacks. They usually end up holding hands and it’s so cute when Lawrence gets startled/spooked bc he’ll squeeze Adam’s hand and Adam is just like... oh that’s fucking Adorable. He’ll squeeze back just to be like it’s okay <33 I like the HC that Lawrence isn’t,, super into horror movies, doesn’t rlly care for the majority of ‘em whereas Adam Adores them, but there’s a couple they can agree on + those are the ones they watch (whatever movies they watch is up to you!! Personally I think they could at least watch Donnie Darko, which is more psychological, + Halloween! It kinda depends on personal interpretation!)

#ah the inclusion of david as adam's brother makes an appearance!! I love that hc #I see them as twins w david being like three minutes older. adam never hears the end of it #adam #lawrence #diana #asks #GOT RLLY INTO THIS ONE OOPS #tysm this is one of my Absolute Favourite things 2 talk abt

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue]

I’d like to give a very special shout out to @killer-queen-xo​ and the insightful prediction she left on Chapter 5 about Y/N and the camera...you were close! 😉

Chapter summary: Y/N breaks a promise; John gives a gift; Freddie has a request; Roger makes a scene.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, creepy male behavior.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Welcome!” Mary chimes as she opens the door for you, then her eyes flick down to the gift bag decorated with Santa hats and sprigs of holly. “Oh, love, we said positively no presents!”

“It’s just something small, I promise. Very inexpensive.”

“She’s here!” Freddie announces with a flourish of his hands, leaping up from the couch. The apartment he shares with Mary is tiny and very cluttered, and absolutely none of the decorations match. The walls are a collage of Bohemian tapestries and family photos and prints of Rococo-style paintings and magazine cutouts of articles about Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley, Queen. Freddie pecks you on both cheeks; Blue Christmas is drifting from the record player. You’re suddenly aware that the apartment is brimming with the scent of baking cookies. In the living room, Roger, Brian, and John are hanging strings of popcorn and paper ornaments on a short, rather scruffy Christmas tree. There is a vast array of presents scattered around the tree stand; all are small, with the exception of one large square box swathed in silver and sapphire wrapping paper.

“I see no one else respected the no presents rule either.”

“You Bostonians and your insatiable need to rebel,” Freddie quips, shooing you towards the tree.

“Y/N, look at this,” Chrissie says from where she and Veronica are sitting on the couch threading popcorn. She’s frowning and holding up a piece of paper cut into the shape of a Pontiac Firebird. “Will you please inform Roger that this is not Christmas themed?”

“Awww!” You grin as she hands it to you. He’s even drawn on a windshield, headlights, and a smiley face floating behind the steering wheel. “Let him hang it, Chris. It’s the only car he’s going to be able to afford for a long time.”

Roger bounds over and embraces you, nearly knocking you over. “This is why you’re my favorite American in the entire world. Possibly my favorite person period. The love of my life.” He takes the paper Firebird and impales it on an ornament hook, then combs through the tree branches for an ideal location.

Brian points heatedly at Roger. “If he gets to hang the damned Firebird then I get to hang my Saturn!”

“Look what you’ve done,” Chrissie tells you, but she’s smiling. She’s wearing a gorgeous green velvet dress and pieces of mistletoe weaved into her long dark hair. Veronica is beside her in a chunky red sweater and denim skirt, not particularly flashy yet festive nonetheless; she waves to you as she pushes pieces of popcorn one by one down the string. She’s wearing makeup tonight, which is unusual. Her lace-white cheeks are tinged with rouge, her slate-blue eyes rimmed by lavender shadow. Freddie and Mary are removing a sheet of cookies from the oven and quibbling over whether they’ve browned enough.

Roger gestures to the gift bag as you place it under the tree. “You better not have spent your own money on that.”

“Oh, tons. It’s diamonds and gold and a dash of overpriced modern art, just to spice things up.”

Roger growls theatrically in his high, raspy voice. Brian stands back and admires the tree as John loops a strand of multicolored Christmas lights around it.

“It’s actually very modest,” you assure Roger. “Not impressive at all. Chris helped.”

“You enabled this behavior?!” Freddie scolds Chrissie as he traverses the room with an overflowing plate of chocolate chip cookies.

She sips cheap red wine impishly and shrugs. “I know a girl in fashion school, I can get their extra yarn if I buy her a cup of tea and pretend to care about her disastrous love life.”

You smirk. “Disastrous love life? I’ve got one of those.”

“You knitted something for us?!” Roger shouts, delighted.

You wiggle your fingers in the air. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.”

Roger groans. “Don’t tease me.”

“You certainly are,” Brian tells you. “That roadie who busted his forehead open got fixed up straightaway.”

“That was literally two stitches. Head wounds just bleed a lot, it looked way worse than it was.”

“Well,” Brian insists. “I was impressed.”

Freddie claps his hands, slick obsidian nail polish gleaming. “Ahhhh, I’m so excited! What have you made for me, love? Oh, I hope it’s a nice thong.”

“It’s probably not,” Chrissie says.  

Mary pours you a glass of wine and glances around the room. “Does everyone have enough cookies? Drinks? Veronica, dear?”

“I suppose I could use a refill.” She passes Mary her glass and smiles as John sits beside her on the couch. You’ve never quite been able to figure out Veronica; she’s cordial yet removed, kind yet wary, extremely dogmatic in her Catholicism and yet simultaneously socializing with rock stars who are unmistakably living in sin. Her most redeeming quality, as far as you’ve observed, is her steadfast devotion to John...or, perhaps, to the life she’s envisioned they could build together. She rests her hand on John’s thigh and glances coolly at you as you pretend not to notice.

Mary returns with a fresh glass of wine for Veronica. “Alright. Should we start with you, Y/N?”

“What, for the gift exchange we all promised wasn’t happening?” You grin. “Sure, I’ll start.”

You open your Christmasy bag and start doling out small boxes. It’s December 23rd, and Queen is enjoying three weeks off for the holidays before the Sheer Heart Attack Tour resumes. The next show is in Columbus, Ohio—not exactly a cultural mecca, it’s true—followed by a scattering of stops across the continental United States. Half of you is thrilled, especially for the night the band will spend in Boston; the other part of you is dreading it. You don’t talk to Roger about what he does with groupies on tour—or what Brian does, or what Freddie does—and Rog doesn’t mention it around you either. He asks you to join him after every show, for dinner or drinks or clubbing; and you tell him no (though it’s never easy to) and try not to think about the apparent eventualities of stardom. Then Roger goes one way, and you go another.  

“Let’s see, what do we have here...” Brian begins prying open his box with long careful fingers.

“You can’t judge me,” you plead. “I’ve only had the tour break to work on them, and I’m really not an expert knitter or anything, and I—”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Freddie gushes, holding his black and white striped hat aloft for everyone to see. He pulls it on over his silky hair and turns to Mary. “What do you think? Am I dashing?”

She beams as she kisses him. “Overwhelmingly so.” And you think about how being on the road feels like one dimension, and being here in London another. Here, fidelity and domesticity; there, freedom from the familiar world and all its browbeating rules.

“Mittens!” Brian proclaims joyfully. They’re an olivey green, and just large enough for his hands. “They’re so comfy, feel these Chris...”

Roger whips his hat out of the box; it’s very fuzzy and a fiery red with flecks of burnt orange. “I’m obsessed! I adore it! I’ll never take it off!”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” John says. He’s sliding on his mittens, which are a soft greyish blue. “This must have taken you days.”

“It’s Christmas! You’re supposed to slave away for the people you love at Christmas. And you’ve all done so much for me, the scales will always be hopelessly lopsided, don’t you worry.”

“The color is beautiful,” Veronica observes as she touches John’s mittens, but perhaps guardedly.

“They match his eyes!” Freddie exclaims; and they do. “This is delightful, Nurse Nightingale. Truly. How can I ever repay you?”

A smile ripples across your face, full of serenity and relief. They really do like the presents. I didn’t stay up until 4 a.m. knitting for nothing. “The cookies and wine are more than sufficient. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to make anything for the ladies, but hopefully your charming future husbands will share and there are chocolates in the bottom of the boxes for you—”

“Oh please,” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve already made the rest of us look thoughtless enough. Kindly shut up and drink your wine now. Thank you, obnoxious Bostonian.”

You laugh as Chrissie distributes her and Brian’s gifts for everyone. She decreed weeks ago that you’ll spend Christmas Eve and Day with her family in Dartford. You can help me keep Brian distracted and in good spirits, she’d told you. His father is livid about us living together without being married, and I’m petrified Bri will give himself another ulcer over it.

Inside the small boxes Chrissie passes out are fancy teabags that smell like pomegranate and peppermint. Freddie and Mary dispense pouches of little pink soaps shaped like dolphins and seashells. John and Veronica give everyone homemade candles, which are either ruby red or evergreen. Roger has picked out three novelty mugs: Led Zeppelin for Brian and Chrissie, cats for Freddie and Mary, and raining gold coins for John and Veronica.

“Well I hope that’s prophetic,” John jokes.

“I don’t get a mug?” You’re trying not to show it, but you are hurt that he forgot you.

“No, you don’t.” Roger rummages around under the tree and passes you the large square present wrapped in silver and blue paper. Chrissie and Mary whistle and clap.

“Oh, big spender!” Freddie chastises.

“Roger, no,” you breathe, horrified.

“Roger, yes!” He drums the coffee table eagerly. “Open it.”

“No real presents allowed! You don’t have the money—”

“Are we married?” Roger asks.

You blink at him. “What?”

“Are. We. Married?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then you don’t get to tell me what to do with my very tiny sliver of earnings that the record company doesn’t steal.” He grins. “Now open it.”

Slowly, cautiously, you tear through the wrapping paper as the others hover on the edges of their seats. John is squinting suspiciously. Roger balls up his fists and presses them to his smiling lips. You open the top flaps of the box.

“No.”

“What is it?!” Mary begs. “The anticipation is agony!”

“Yeah, love of my life,” Roger taunts, his blue eyes luminous. “What is it?”

Carefully, you lift it out of the box. It’s brand new and shiny and perfect.

“A camera!” Freddie cries.

“A Canon F-1, to be precise,” Roger says. “And a manual too. For our aspiring wildlife photographer. Us feral musicians being the wildlife, of course.”

“Roger...” You reach for him instinctively, and he rushes over to wrap you in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know why you would do this for me.”

He laughs. “Because you’re the best gift I ever got, Boston babe!”

“Let’s give it a try!” Freddie plucks the camera from your hands and begins loading film. “Alright, click this...press that...oh fuck, how do I do this?! Deaky, come over here. You can fix anything.”

“Sure thing, Fred.” John readies the camera in just a minute or two, no longer than it takes Mary to refill glasses and send around another plate of cookies. He looks a little ashen to you, a little stunned; but when you ask him if he’s okay, John just smiles and nods.

Freddie snaps photos of Brian and Chrissie as they snuggle on the couch, of John posing sheepishly in front of the Christmas tree, of Veronica waving as she nibbles a chocolate chip cookie, of Roger in his flame-colored hat. Then Roger makes sure you get your camera back, and it’s your turn to take the pictures. You sit beside the tree, the kaleidoscopic glow of Christmas lights speckling the walls like stars, and collect still frames of memories like catching lightning bugs in jars, like it’s July instead of December, like it’s the heart of a year instead of the end. After a while Freddie comes over to sit next to you, to toast wine glasses with you, to make fun of your flushed cheeks. Then he watches as you gaze at Roger from across the room. Rog is trying on Brian’s mittens and clapping his hands like a seal, grinning hugely, flashing his pointy little canine teeth. And despite all those oh-so-rational promises you’ve made to yourself, you begin to wonder.

“Don’t do it,” Freddie says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you sling back, pleasantly tipsy. And then: “Why not?”

“Because I like having you around. And if you do this, eventually you won’t be around anymore.”

When you’re finally exhausted enough to drag yourself away from them and catch a taxi, John follows you out into the hallway of the apartment building.

“I have one more gift for you.”

“John, no, absolutely not, I am thoroughly unworthy—”

“Stop.” He pulls a thin, rectangular item from behind his back. It takes you a moment to recognize it.

“Your notebook...?”

“I know it’s not wrapped.” He’s anxious, you realize, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I kept trying to work up the nerve, and I still wasn’t sure about it when we came over here, and now, well...here I am.” He gives the notebook to you, and you open it, and you gasp in awe.

Inside are sketches from Rome: the concert, the temples, the museum, the beach on that cool breezy afternoon, and, best of all, the people you shared the city with. You and Roger laughing in front of a statue of Perseus. Brian and Chrissie contemplating ruins. Freddie hunched over a piano, his dexterous hands stretched across the keys. And you sitting in that sweltering, fire-lit corner of the Italian restaurant, smiling from behind a glass bottle of Coke. You trace your fingertips over your own face; it’s blissful and peaceful and beautiful in a way that you’ve never seen yourself. “John...”

“Because, you know, you said that you wanted to document the tour so you could remember it all, and I figured...since you didn’t have a camera...maybe this would be better than nothing.”

“It’s a lot better than nothing, John. It’s incredible.”

“They’ll do for now. You won’t need drawings anymore,” he notes, somewhat mournfully. “You can put them on your refrigerator until you have photos to replace them with.”

You shake your head, still staring. “The way you captured my face...”

He shrugs, smiling crookedly. “I just borrowed it.”

“Thank you.” You climb onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. He’s warm and gentle; his fluffy hair tickles the sensitive undersides of your wrists.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers to you; happy, not merry, like a true Englishman. And he’s right. You can’t remember a time you’ve been happier.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings like a scream, like shattering glass. It wrenches you out of that fogged, heavy precursor to sleep and your hand fumbles from beneath the covers to grab the receiver. The cord bounces clumsily against your nightstand and nudges the blush-colored conch shell that lives there.

“Hello...?”

“Darling, there’s an emergency.”

You bolt upright in bed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the band—?”

“There’s going to be a party on New Year’s Eve and you have to come.”

You groan and fall back into the embankment of pillows. “Fred, that’s not an emergency. Jesus christ. I thought someone died.”

“Then you should be overwhelmed with gratitude for your friends’ continued existence and delighted to join us!”

You glance at the calendar tacked to your wall. “That’s tomorrow, right?”

Freddie scoffs. “Of course it’s tomorrow! Some bloke from the record company is hosting and I need a date. Makes me more marketable or something. Mary can’t come, she’s got the flu. So you’ll have to take one for the team and play the adoring paramour. Shouldn’t be too heavy a lift. I’ve been informed that I’m very adorable.”

“Make Roger do it.”

There’s an edge to Freddie’s voice when he speaks. “They aren’t quite that progressive, dear.”

“I’m really more of a museums and restaurants person than a getting coerced into socializing with strangers person, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

“You’ll survive,” he replies brusquely. “Chrissie and Brian will be there. You’ll have fellow boring people to hide in a corner and eat biscuits with and discuss planetary movements or whatever the fuck.”

“Great. Roger and John are coming too?”

“Not Deaky. He already has plans with Veronica’s family and can’t weasel out of them. It’s not like he would schmooze anyone anyway.”

“Oh.” That disappoints you, more than you thought it could. “Maybe I have plans I can’t weasel out of, ever think of that?”

Now Freddie sounds amused. “You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

He laughs. “Because there’s no one you love in London more than us.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The paramour ruse doesn’t go very well; within twelve minutes Freddie has abandoned you and is guzzling martinis with Elton John and some record company guys you don’t recognize, pointy party hats on their heads and silver balloons bobbing against the ceiling. It’s not 1975 yet, but it will be soon. The mansion is decked with suits and ballgowns and expensive-looking vases perched precariously on end tables. Elegant white columns rim the vast living room. You, Brian, Chrissie, and Roger are chatting nervously by a massive punch bowl carved in ice, swiping appetizers off the waiters’ trays and trying not to break anything.

“I feel completely useless,” you say, nodding to Freddie.  

Chrissie chuckles. “I think he just wanted you to be here. He thinks you’re good luck, you know. All our fates turned around when you showed up.”

Roger points at you with his punch glass. “Your people specialize in witchcraft, don’t they?”

“Oh, so close. That’s Salem, about thirty minutes up the road. No witches in Boston.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something a secret witch would say.”

You brandish your hand through the air. “I summon more mini crab cakes.”

The others glance around. “It didn’t work,” Chrissie observes sadly.

Brian sips his punch, which is bubbling and a vivid red. “Maybe you have to invoke Satan first. I saw a toy poodle on the couch you could sacrifice.”

“Yes, yes,” Roger agrees. “Just toss it in the oven and see if anyone notices.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Now that would make a fantastic impression.”

Roger grabs your empty glass, plops it on a passing waiter’s tray, and takes your hands in his. They’re rough and strong, and they feel a little too good. “Alright, are you going to dance with me now?”

“Roger...”

“Don’t harass her,” Chrissie warns. “She’s here, she’s working on conjuring more snacks, she’s under no obligation to dance with you on top of all that.”

He frowns at you, those intense blue eyes bright beneath shagging bangs. “Really?”

You smile, reaching up to straighten the collar of his sparking rainbow jacket. “If you’re still interested in 1975, you can ask me then.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grins triumphantly at Chrissie, and she smirks back. “Can someone kindly tell me what that clock over on the mantle says? Obviously I can’t see that far.”

“11:19,” Brian says.

“Fantastic. I’ll be back.” He winks at you, then looks to Brian. “Stay with her, will you?”

“Sure.”

Roger lights a cigarette and saunters away, smoke drifting around him. Several young women—escorts or daughters of producers or soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends of musicians—descend upon him and start asking about Killer Queen. Roger is radiant when he replies, enchanting, wearing charisma like a snake’s skin, climbing ever onwards up the rungs of the social ladder; and you think about how there’s Home Roger and Tour Roger—though he felt like home in Boston, and  though he feels so distant now—and how any woman who chooses him will have to spend her life watching him devour other people’s love from across the room, from across the world.

“Be careful,” Chrissie tells you softly.

“He won’t be back at midnight.” You pour yourself a fresh glass of punch, avoiding her eyes, hiding your disappointment...or, embarrassingly and infinitely worse, perhaps your hope. “They’ve been staring at him all night. And he’s noticed.”

“Oh, honey...” Chrissie rubs your bare shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine,” you tell her. And you plan to drink until it feels like it is.  

Some guitarist from Genesis appears to introduce himself to Brian, and Bri leaps into a fevered discussion of how much he admires the band’s work and how he built his Red Special and the merits of guitar techniques that sound like Russian or Japanese to you. Before you know it, the mysterious Genesis man is hauling Brian off to present him to someone equally important. Chrissie shoots a worried glimpse at you as she follows Bri away.

“Go!” you insist, forcing a smile. Just abandon me in this super intimidating mansion full of rich important strangers and breakable museum artifacts, that’s totally cool.

“We’ll be back in five minutes, I swear.”

You wave cheerfully. “Take your time!” You peer at the clock. Thirty minutes until midnight.

As you’re dishing yourself yet another glass of punch, a man in a posh white suit approaches from the other side of the table. “Are you hiding from people as well?”

“Not too successfully, apparently.”

He recoils and raises his eyebrows. “My apologies. Want me to disappear?”

You almost say yes—it wobbles on your lips like an unsteady toddler—then you reconsider. He’s tall and blond and polished; he looks a bit like Roger from an alternate universe where Rog went to boarding school and plays polo. More significantly, he could be someone important, someone the band needs, someone you don’t want to offend. “No, I’m sorry, that was so impolite. Please forgive me. My judgment is quite impaired, that’s my excuse, I blame the punch. Also I’m a New Englander and thus inclined to be uncooperative towards Brits.”

He laughs, a full genuine laugh; and it feels like a victory. See? I’m clever, I’m charming. Anyone would be lucky to have me. “I’m Eric.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s a resounding pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gestures towards the open area on the floor where buzzed men and giggling women are tripping over each other. “There’s no way I could interest you in that, is there?”

You ponder it, nursing your fourth punch. You aren’t much of a dancer, that’s true; and this handsome stranger of a man isn’t Roger. But he might be able to get your mind off him.

You sling back the rest of your punch and slam the glass down onto the table. “Okay. But only because there’s an Eagles record on.”

“Deal.”

He follows you to the dance floor, weaves his fingers through yours, sways easily with the music. Eric tells you that he’s from up north, in the Lake District; his family owns an estate that used to be the seat of an earldom or something. He describes endless emerald hills and castles and horse farms until your mind starts to swim, until the effects of the punch and scant appetizers roll over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you announce dreamily. “Thank you so much, Eric. This has been lovely. But I have to go sit down now.”

“Oh come on, one more song!”

“I’m flattered, but I have to pass. Maybe after midnight...” You move to pull your hands away, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers are locked with yours. You try again. Eric’s still smiling, but his eyes have gone flinty. Oh no. You look around for Freddie or Brian, both of whom have vanished.

“One more, come on,” he presses. “I insist.”

“Eric, I’m really dizzy—”

“Don’t be rude. We’re having such a nice time, aren’t we?”

“Please let go of me.” You try to keep your voice level, try not to offend him. Everyone around you on the dance floor is laughing and drinking and smoking, not paying any attention at all.

“Look, you said you’d dance, so that’s what we’re doing. Am I suddenly not good enough for you?”

“Seriously, you need to let go.” You try to tug your hands away. Your heart is racing, blood rushing in your ears. The room is listing to the right, now the left. You realize that Eric is gradually leading you away from the center of the room and towards a quiet hallway. I can’t let this guy get me alone. I’m weak and I’m drunk, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me. You struggle harder, more visibly. His grip on your hands tightens. “Let go, Eric, let go of me!”

“Calm down, bloody hell lady, I’m just trying to—”

And then Eric is ripped away from you and his face smashed with vicious force into the nearest column. You scream, your hands covering your gaping mouth; the room goes silent. Eric crumples to the floor, unconscious. Blood pours from his broken nose and litters his white suit with crimson blotches and smears. Droplets drip crawlingly down the column. Roger stands over Eric, shirt completely unbuttoned, jacket rumpled, shadows of lipstick peppering his neck and chest. He wipes his own palms on his rainbow jacket, scowling, disgusted. Then he turns to you.

“Ready to go?”

“Roger, I...” You gaze in shock down at Eric. I hope he’s not dead. That might make things awkward with the record company. “I-I-I’m so sorry,” you manage finally. “I’m sorry, Roger, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”

“No, I’m ready to go.” He lays his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the front door, grabbing both of your coats off the rack. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” And relief floods through you. Okay.

Brian pushes his way out of the stunned crowd as Roger swings the door open. Frigid air skates over your cheeks. “Rog, what happened?!”

Roger glares savagely. “When I tell you to stay with someone, you fucking stay with them.” And then he steps with you out into the bitterly cold, nearly-January night.

“It’s not his fault,” you explain as you and Roger hurry down the sidewalk, your words spinning mist into the air. “Some guy from Genesis showed up and you know how Bri is about them, and I told him and Chris to go, please don’t be mad—”

“Are you alright?” He’s scrutinizing you closely; you can still see the rosy lipstick stains on his skin as you pass beneath each streetlight.

“I’m fine, I’m completely fine. Please don’t be mad.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well obviously I’m not mad at you, babe.”

“Oh god, I hope this doesn’t hurt the band. I don’t know who that guy was with. You broke his nose, you know.”

“Good.”

You shake your head, trying to chase away those ghosts of lipstick and the girls who left them there. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. “I know you were busy, I know the party was important, I know I ruined midnight for you—”

“You didn’t ruin it. We still have a few more minutes. We’ll duck into a pub somewhere and have a pint to welcome in the new year, it’ll be grand. Maybe get you some food. You look like you could use it.”

“I just...” You bury your numb, shaking hands in your coat pockets and brace yourself against the cold. “You left the girls. Left the party. I just don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Are you serious? Obviously I’m going to drop everything if you need me. I’m always going to do that.” He pulls his fiery red, hand-knit hat out of his coat pocket and slips it over your wild, windswept hair. “You’re still on my list, you know.”

You sigh. “You’re a smart man, Roger Taylor, but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What,” he says, a tad bitingly. “Because I can’t promise you a picket fence and precisely two well-mannered, unremarkable children and a golden retriever? You’re right, I’m not going to promise you that. Because that’s not who I am. That’s not who you are either, by the way. But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?”

And that stops you, here in the cold dark heart of London, here beneath a cascading streetlight on the opening page of 1975. Because Roger’s right.

He takes your left hand and lifts it to his lips, and you know exactly what he’s going to do even before he oh-so-feather-lightly bites your goosebumped knuckles. “Look, forget about it. Don’t worry. Don’t freak yourself out. We’ll get a drink, we’ll watch the fireworks, and then I’ll walk you home. No questions, no answers. You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?”

You watch Roger, his cheeks ruddy from the wind, halos of streetlights reflected in his eyes. And you echo: “Okay.”

#queen fanfic #queen fic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #queen #fanfic

[youralternantpersonality]

Anniversary

Embry x Reader: Anniversary

Y/n: your name

Y/L/N: your last name

Y/g: your gender

Y/e/c: your eye color

Y/h/c(t): your hair color or type

***

Our first anniversary was coming up and I was nervous. I didn’t know what to give this man. He had done so much for me and he had been through so much before we met. He stayed strong throughout the vampire army bullshit and much more. He dealt with my feelings through that time while he was battling his own. I could be nothing but grateful to have him in my life. Which lead me up to this moment. What thy fuck do I give this man. I had already given myself, so I couldn’t necessarily do that. I would say we could try some freaky shit, but I already have that in mind for later that night.

“Fuck!” I say out loud, slamming my head on the dinner table.

“You okay their boo?” Clair asked, changing baby Sam’s diaper.

“No. I can’t figure out what to give Embry for our anniversary. He’s done so much and been through so much, I want to give him something special.”

“Why not go to the toy store and get something?” Great minds think alike.

“No, I planned that for later. I need something else.” Baby Sam cooed and laugh as Clair picked him up to give to me. I bounced him on my leg.

“What do you think little man? You got any ideas?” I ask little Sam, hoping that he’d give me some idea. He just smiled and grabbed my nose then laughed when I nibbled on his wrist.

“Oh! I know! A baby!” Clair laughs. I look at her with a blank face.

“I’ll do that later.”

“What about one of your artworks? He loves them and you can make one for him.” I shake my head,

“He has a billion of them at his place. His mom even took some to work with her to give to some coworkers who came over. I need something. Anything.”

“I’m sure, whatever it may be, he’ll love it, Hun. Don’t stress too much over it.” I nod my head and hug little man as he plays with my fingers.

“I have too. Sam has them working triple shifts lately, so I want to do something relaxing and special. I just don’t know what…”

Embry’s POV

Fuck Sam and his triple shift bitch. Sam and Jake have us running more drills and twice as much of doing patrol. There hasn’t been a vampire insight in 5 months. I get it, after the last one, the last thing we need is more kids popping up, finding out that they’re shapeshifters. Hell, it was awkward enough finding out I was one. Not wanting to know who my dad is, but having a feeling that Sam is my half-brother isn’t something I was planning on. But God damn, the most sleep we’ve gotten is maybe 2 hours, on a 24-hour schedule. And damn, I feel bad for how I’ve neglected Y/n/n. Y/g has stuck by me when we were dealing with the damn Vampire Mafia that came for the hybrid-child. No offense to Ren, but damn.

Our anniversary is coming up and I want to do something special for y/g. I asked Jake for a day off next Saturday to celebrate, thankfully he gave me it off, but in return, I have to almost run a 24-hour shift so my replacement can breathe. Honestly, it’s worth it, but I hope that I am awake to thoroughly celebrate it.

“Guys, I need your help,” I said to the pack at Emily’s house. Y/n had just left with Clair and Kim to the store.

“Uh oh, what happened? What did you fuck up this time?” Paul said laughing. I roll my eyes and brush the comment off.

“I need help with deciding on what to give Y/n/n,” I said, deep in thought looking into space.

“Just give her the d-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Jared Cameron,” Emily says, her back turned towards us as she finishes up making whatever it is she was making. Chicken? Smells like chicken…

“How about just make her something. She decorated all of our houses with her artwork, why don’t you just do the favor?” Brady said. It wasn’t a bad idea honestly.

“Yeah, just do nontoxic body paint. Create your artwork in bed…OUCH! Emily?” Emily slapped Jared upside the head.

“One more time and no dessert. I expected this from Paul. Good job Paul.”

“Thank you? I guess?” He said, looking both offended and appreciated for the backhanded compliment. In a distance, you can here Sam Jr laughing with Collin and Quil.

“Ouch! Damn son!”

“LANGUAGE!”

“SORRY EMILY!” they said in unison. Collin walking in with little Sam in, who has a hard grip on Quil’s hair.

“He won’t let go!” Sam laughs and reaches for his son.

“I got him,” Sam says walking away to change his diaper.

“Okay, can we get back to my situation?” I asked as patiently as possible.

“Em, just have a romantic night with her. Make her dinner, put in a movie, and relax. Or take her to the movies. Y/n isn’t for extravagance.”

“I know Emily, but that’s why I want to do something big.” I lean against the wall frustrated. She shakes her head and smiles.

“If you want to give her something, give her what you know she loves the most. Something that she can look at always and would just have her smiling effortlessly.”

“This doesn’t help me, but okay.” She laughs,

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure of it.” she winks and starts setting out the silverware.

“I still say you should do body art,” Jared said, below the normal hearing level. But ever since Emily gave birth to Sam Jr, her hearing has been on point.

“Jared…” his eyes go wide. “I heard that.” She says in a singing voice. Sam comes back with little man, who reaches for his mom. She smiles and reaches for him and kisses his head softly.

“And just or that comment, no dessert. Dinner’s ready boys. Jared, you go last.” Emily says focusing on the little man while walking out of the room.  

“Damnit!”

“LANGUAGE!” Sam Jr starts laughing in the background.

Saturday Night—Anniversary

I figured out what I was going to give Y/n. I was going to do a picture board or message board or whatever it’s called. I went to the school library and printed out a shit ton of pictures we’ve taken together and decided to write little messages underneath the pictures. What we were doing that day and when it was. Thank-fucking-God we have perfect memory. I also had my mom bake her favorite cookies—snickerdoodle and peanut butter. She will sit somewhere and eat a pack of 12 (homemade) of them and not even have a second thought. I’ve also seen her grab a spoonful and just eat peanut butter like it was nothing.

“Babe, you’re going to get sick. Aren’t you tired of peanut butter?” with a blank look on her face, no hesitation, she says,

“I don’t need this negativity in my life.” Then gets up, goes to my room, and closes the door as if she lives here.

As Courage the cowardly dog would say, “The things I do for love.”

Y/n POV

I figured out on what to give Embry, it took a minute to review all our conversations, but I finally figured out what I wanted to give him.

A camera.

Em has always loved taking pictures of scenery and things of nature. He’s always loved taking pictures of everyone caught off guard. Hell, he loved taking pictures of our memorable moments. I even remember the first one he took on our first date.

We were on the beach, just about to start eating when he forgot something in his truck. I didn’t know this at the time, but he snapped a photo of me and the candles surrounding me with the waves in perfect motion in the background. He never showed it to me, instead, he had it as a screensaver and when I saw it, he outed that he has a passion for photography. Thus, giving him, this would make him happy. He may not have time now, but I know that at any given chance, he’ll take this camera everywhere he goes.

“Y/n! Embry’s here!” My foster mom said. I tell her I’ll be down and finish wrapping his present. As I finish, I hear the front door slam. I look outside and see my parents head off somewhere in town I assume. I run downstairs to meet my lover and kiss him instantly. Although I saw him a few nights ago at Emily’s, I haven’t heard from him much.

“Hello to you too my love.” He says smiling down at me. I can’t help but smile brightly and feel my face heat up.

“I miss you. Happy anniversary babe!” I said with excitement. Hugging him, forgetting his present is in my hands. He laughs and leads me to the living room.

“I hope you like what I got you, I know it may not be much, but, I figured it would be something that you could look back on and smile when I’m not able to. I mean, it’s always my goal to make you smile, but like, just when I’m not around to do so. Which I always will be, unless they need me to patrol and stu-” I kiss him.

“I love you too babe. And I promise, I already know that I will love it.” I smile at him. He pulls out his gift for me and I’m in awe.

“I saw this idea on google. I figured; we could make a memory board every year to look back on. I also put the dates and events that made me take them. Most of them I took for no reason, but, some of them I figured we can look back on it and laugh. Oh! I also made you these!” Embry hands me a tuple ware of cookies. I take one bite and realize I will eat all these tonight. Not even going to complain about it.

“Babe! This is so…. oh my gosh, Embry!” I go up to hug him and kiss him. He used one of those science fair boards to create a collage of the pictures. Damn, I love this man.

“I love you Em, so fucking much. Now, it’s my turn. I hope you like it…” I have a feeling he will, but…

“No way...” I smile slightly and look at him. “You got me… Y/n, baby…” Before I could react, he pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. I smiled and laughed.

“I take it that you like it?”

“I fucking love it! Y/n, you didn’t have to go all out like this! Shit, now I feel bad for giving you just that…”

“Nope! Embry Call don’t start. I love what you gave me, and I’m especially happy that you remember those little moments we had in those pictures. So, don’t try this bull shit love. Okay?” I said looking at him.

“Yes [ma’am/sir] …Does it have any film?”

“Yes, already inside.” He smiles at me brightly, turns it on, and starts playing with it until it's at his satisfaction.

“Come here.” He pulls me in for a kiss and suddenly, a flash goes off.

“Picture number one.” He smiles down at me and kisses me again.

“Happy anniversary babe.”

“Happy anniversary Y/n.”

Masterlist

#embrycall #embrycallxreader #embry call x reader #embry-call-x-reader #embry call #twilight #twilightsaga #twilightwolfpack #embry call twilight #new moon #newmoon #eclipse #breaking dawn #breakingdawn #breakingdawnpartone #BreakingDawnPart2 #breakingdawnpart1 #breakingdawnparttwo #Bella Swan #bella cullen #bella #bellaswan #bellacullen #edward cullen #edwardcullen #midnightsun #midnight sun

[cringeyvanillamilk]

Yoo~! Your modern au series is pretty entertaining. Please do one for Gordon (and Grey and Gauche too if you don't mind; I love this trio) in the future! 😊❣❣

I finally finished your request!! I’m happy to finally draw these three, especially Gordon! I hope you enjoy~! <3 

Gordon Agrippa

Loves reading various types of books, specifically ones about the power of friendship

Has a lot of knowledge on pharmaceutical drugs and medicine due to family background

Current Career: Freelance Writer, but currently works at Black Bull’s cafe

Was part of the book club and knitting club at Clover academy

Performs poetry every night at the Black Bull’s cafe

Fashion: Gordon has a love for gothic victorian inspired fashion. He finds this type of fashion to be aesthetically pleasing, which is greatly inspired by his family who also loves this particular clothing style. Any clothes with chains, belts, and studs will most likely catch his eyes. He also loves wearing his signature cap with his outfit. The colors that he usually wears are mostly black, grey, and red. He likes to wear gothic jewelry where he sees fits and completes the look with dark eyeshadow, black lipstick, and black nail polish. Despite this dark image, Gordon loves to decorate himself with cute and bright buttons to make himself more approachable. The buttons include a happy face, a pansexual flag, and a strawberry. Overall, Gordon’s fashion is goth with a sprinkle of cute accessories.

The Agrippa family had an infamous reputation of owning a pharmacy store that was rumored to secretly provide immoral people with drugs that could potentially poison those they want dead. While this rumor was true generations ago, Gordon’s father, Nathan, wanted to turn their family’s reputation around and become a pharmacist that helps people with their health. But due to the lack of proper communication between Nathan and Gordon, Gordon assumes that his father wants to continue their family’s sick tradition and left to live on his own near the capital. While Gordon successfully attended Clover academy through achievements and awards in writing, he spent the majority of his life in isolation. Even though he joined  a lot of clubs in the academy, people still didn’t want to befriend him. And despite getting his English degree, Gordon has trouble getting jobs due to his intimidating appearance. After being rejected by a lot of jobs, Gordon decided to stop by the Black Bull’s cafe to rest and find more jobs to apply. This is where he met Yami who noticed that Gordon was looking for a job and offered him a spot at the Black Bull’s cafe since they are short of staff. Yami also commented that his creepy appearance would be perfect to bring in more customers. This was the first time Gordon experienced someone wanting him to be a part of something and was overwhelmed with happiness. He now works happily at the Black Bull’s cafe while also looking for a job that fits his passion.

Random Fact: Gordon is an amazing cook. He is part of the cooking team at Black Bull’s cafe along with Charmy and Gauche. He specializes in desserts and can make any types of sweets (e.g., cake, cookies, etc.). Gordon usually makes cookies for the staff to eat with each cookie representing each one of them. Gordon isn’t good at designing people in his baking and so they look very creepy. He’s really good at making Halloween themed desserts, even when he isn’t trying. Since strawberry shortcake is his favorite food, you’ll always see him make it every day. His love for strawberry shortcake is the reason behind his strawberry button.

Gauche Adlai

Owns a mirror that was previously owned by his deceased parents

Had a bad reputation from stealing from stores and getting into street fights when he lived in the streets

Possible major: Photography

Has a room full of photos of just Marie, but he has a secret stash where the photos are of the Black Bull’s cafe employees being happy (don’t tell anyone)

Has won many photography competitions with each photo being related to Marie in some way

Fashion: Gauche doesn’t pay too much attention to his daily clothes, but he does know how to dress himself for any occasion. He prefers tasteful and simple clothes, nothing too fancy. You’ll usually see him with a collar shirt, jacket, and slacks. He also likes wearing vintage shoes because he finds it aesthetically pleasing to his eyes. He generally shops at any thrift store nearby, unless it’s Marie then he’ll shop at an expensive clothing store. Gauche’s fashion may lean more towards hipster if he spends a lot of money on himself. Overall, simple but somewhat stylish.

When Gauche and Marie were young, they had a healthy relationship with their parents who loved and cared for them with all their heart. Their father was a respected and rich businessman and their mother was a famous war photographer. Each time their mother would come back home from her trips, she would usually share the happy photos she took to Gauche and Marie. Seeing these happy pictures inspired Gauche to follow in her footsteps in becoming a photographer. Gauche specifically wanted to take pictures of people who are happy because seeing people smile makes him feel good. But one goal he hopes to complete is creating a photo album of his family being happy together. After receiving his first camera from his father, Gauche was ready to start his photo album once his mother came back home from her trip. When Gauche’s father went to pick up their mother from the airport, Gauche and Marie received terrible news that they both died in a ‘car accident’ on their way back home. This accident was actually orchestrated by his uncle who wanted to inherit their wealth and kicked Gauche and Marie out of their mansion. After being left on the streets, Gauche decided to take it upon himself and take care of Marie like how his parents would’ve wanted him to. Acting as a reliable older brother and the only family Marie has, they frequently moved to different locations to look for food and shelter. They were later taken in by an orphanage led by sister Theresa. Gauche had a talent in photography and was pushed by sister Theresa to compete in various contests where he won 1st place in each one. These great achievements led him to be chosen by Clover academy, but quickly rejected the offer since that would mean he’ll have to dorm at the academy away from Marie. During their walks, Marie found out about Gauche’s rejection to the academy and was upset that Gauche would decline such a great offer. Gauche argues that he doesn’t want to leave her alone which made Marie feel even more frustrated and ran inside a nearby cafe. This is where he met Yami, who happened to eavesdrop on their conversation. Yami reasoned that if Gauche really cared for Marie, he’d bring in more money to support her if he managed to graduate from the academy and go to college. Then when he’s financially secured, he and Marie can live on their own with no need for outside assistance. Yami’s words were able to convince Gauche to proceed in attending Clover academy which made Marie happy. As a way to show thanks, Marie said if the cafe needed any help, Gauche would be happy to work for him. Gauche was about to disagree but Yami was quick to accept Gauche into the cafe and promise Marie that he’ll keep Gauche busy. Gauche had no say in the matter since Marie already sealed the deal with Yami.

Random Fact: Gauche has a talent in art. Whether it’s sculpting, drawing, painting, or knitting, Gauche can replicate anything he sees. Even in baking, he can replicate any object or person as a cake. In fact, Gauche’s extraordinary skills would’ve been perfect for the recent cake cutting trend. However, Gauche mainly uses his younger sister, Marie, as a model for all of his artistic creations. If you go inside his room, you’ll see a shrine of sculptures, drawings, paintings, and dolls of Marie.

Grey

Likes to cosplay and attend conventions

Finds comfort in watching Cinderella

Possible major: Acting

Was an exceptional actress back in high school and would get chosen for lead roles but always decline these roles because of her sisters bullying

Has a great singing voice and likes to hum whenever she cleans

Fashion: Grey is incredibly shy and so her fashion reflects this. Grey’s casual attire is very modest and rarely shows a lot of skin. She likes to wear sweaters, long pants or skirts, and blue flats that her father got her as a birthday present. However, whenever she imitates a character for a cosplay or theater play, she becomes a completely different person and could wear very revealing clothes if it fits the character she’s impersonating. Grey likes showing off a lot of skin when she’s in character because this gives her an excuse to be confident in herself. Outside of her cosplays, Grey rarely wears jewelry since she thinks she doesn’t deserve to decorate herself with pretty things. Grey does value her belt since it was another gift from her father. Overall, Grey’s fashion is modest and warm.

Grey came from a middle class family where she used to live with her father, stepmother, and two elder stepsisters. Her father owns a small boutique store and her stepmother co-owns the store with her father. While her father showered Grey with love, her stepmother and stepsisters mistreated her and forced her to do all the chores in the house. They frequently lied to her father saying that she always wanted to do all the chores and didn't like going out with them since she prefers to stay at home. Because Grey’s father was oblivious of his daughter’s struggles, he never questioned it whenever they would go out without her. Grey was too meek to speak out and so she would go along with what they said in silence. During her time alone, she would always watch anime or DVDs of musical plays whenever she was done cleaning the place and making food. Grey always dreamed of being an actress in a play or show, but would get ridiculed for wanting to pursue such a career. Grey still tries to participate in various plays or get into cosplay where she gets to act like a completely different person. Grey finds herself comfortable as another character and still yearns to be an actress and so she auditioned for her school’s plays. She would get chosen for major roles in the plays, but when her stepsisters found out, they bullied her into going for a minor role instead. After graduating high school, Grey was ordered to stay home and not go to college to continuously be a servant for the family. Despite wanting to go to college to be an actress, Grey obeyed and continued to take care of the house for many years. It wasn’t until one day when Grey wanted to find a way to get closer to her stepsisters where she decided to dress up and perfectly transformed herself into looking like one of her stepsisters. Her stepsisters were outraged by her impersonation and threatened her which made Grey run away in fear. While on the streets, Grey was jumped by three muggers, but was saved by Gauche by Marie’s request. Gauche said if she’s running away, she should try and live for herself which inspired Grey to follow Gauche into the Black Bull’s cafe. With no courage to go back home, she was told by Vanessa that she could live at her place in the meantime while she gets back on her feet. Gauche commented that she should also start working at the cafe if she wanted to make enough money to support herself now that she’s starting fresh. Grey gratefully took Vanessa and Gauche’s offer and so now lives with Vanessa at her apartment, attends the same college as Gauche, and works at the Black Bull’s cafe.

Random Fact: Grey is great at doing makeup when she wants to replicate another character or person for her cosplay or costume. Whenever she attends anime conventions, she is complimented a lot for perfectly imitating the characters she cosplayed as. Even during cosplay contests, she would always place 1st place for her high quality clothes, wigs, and makeup. Grey thanks her father for teaching her these skills when she was young.

#black clover #Gordon Agrippa #gauche adlai #grey #modern au #my art #answered #I feel like I wrote a lot for their backstories in comparison to the other ones I've done- #I think I got too excited that's why- #Thank you for the request~! #I HOPE THEIR BACKSTORIES MAKE SENSE?

[raleigh-ocean]

where does my heart belong (you know it, right?) | billie dean howard x dara ann lynch

words: 3,608

summary: sometimes Billie wished for Dara to know that she became all that she didn’t know she needed so bad, how much she loved every second of that realization. And that also meant that Billie had room not only for improvement, but to get a little bit extra along the way. 

Billie’s laugh sounded muffled against Dara’s chest, coming out with a content sigh all along that made the younger woman to giggle ever so soft in response, fingers brushing back silky blonde hair.

“Please, tell me we didn’t do it just becau-”

“Of course not,” Billie pressed her lips in the tiny crook between Dara’s collarbones. “We did it because we wanted,” two kisses a bit lower, over the swell of her breasts. “Because you looked stunning in that dress; because all I wanted was to be by your side, as close as possible,” another kiss in Dara’s throat, along another content hum. “And because we know how to have sex without the rest knowing, which makes us the best team,” Billie moved slightly to the left, taking good care to give Dara a new mark in her favorite spot. “I didn’t need Josephine to push me to do something I was gonna do the same, lovely.”

“God, Billie Dean,” Dara laughed hoarsely at that, leaving a kiss in Billie’s temple before licking her lips and waiting for the big kiss Billie was going to give her. She didn’t sound upset, just not surprised. “Tell me at least we won some money.”

“How dare you miss Lynch, suggest we just didn’t? Do you think my sister actually convinced my brother-in-law to do something so unholy under my parents’ roof?” Dara shrugged a bit and Billie actually turned on the night lamp to look at her, cocky smirk swifting to one of curiosity. “Annie.”

“I mean, Steve showed up without tie to this year’s dinner,” Dara laced her hands together over Billie’s back, since the medium was really comfortable resting over her chest. “The next thing could be eating cauliflower or finding them having sex against the bathroom’s sink, who knows.”

It was then when realization hit Billie and, for a fraction of time, Dara could see her curiosity go away to be replaced with a kinda scared expression. Dara used her fingers again to brush back a lock of Billie’s hair behind her ear, as if they weren’t having a stupid conversation, and when she withdrew it Billie took it in hers, kissing her palm with somewhat devotion before going up enough to hover over her and kiss her slow on the lips.

Neither of them could help but moan ever so softly, going deeper with the kiss, Dara’s fingers pressing against Billie’s lower back and Billie biting her lower lip in response.

“You stay here, my queen,” Billie whispered, another well placed peck in Dara’s lips. “I’m going to get some towels to clean us up, okay?”

“Okay,” Dara barely nodded, closing her eyes and sinking in the mattress again, Billie’s warmth and weight gone. “Just please, don’t take your time, I still find unnerving that you have a Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ poster in your ceiling.”

“You have a Selena one in Sacramento,” reminded Billie, pulling up Dara’s basket shorts and then her shirt, dressing a bit in case she encountered someone in the corridor. “And I don’t think any of them are going to disappear any time soon.”

“It’s Diana’s and it’s inside the closet, not looking at us in airplane view,” Billie laughed at that and leant to give Dara a last kiss. “Parents’ and their effort to not let go of stuff.”

When Dara was finally left alone in bed, only covered by the quilt and one foot out of it, she only managed to curl into a ball and sink her face against Billie's pillow to take in the scent. It was comforting, even when both were having a rough time sleeping there, to do such a homey thing...and also get to share an actual bed when they were guests.

Opening one eye, she looked around the room as far as she could, and smiled softly to see that the decorations hadn't been changed for almost the last twenty years, even when Billie moved from her parents' house in Palos Verdes to her apartment in Pasadena when she was twenty-five. It was a bit weird in a good way, like, Dara felt safe there even with the ceiling poster and the terrifying pink of the walls.

Maybe it was because she didn't feel she was suffocating there.

"Sit up, baby," Billie's voice was the only thing that brought Dara back to Earth and she did as she was told while watching her partner dressed with her clothes - big on her - and holding a towel in her hands. "There we go, let me...yeah, that."

Aftercare was always a thing that they did together, helping each other to be faster so they could go back to where they were before, but that time Billie brushed her hands off and did everything on her own while leaving tiny kisses here and there. They didn't talk much, aside a punctual laugh, but Dara thought that having Billie being that...chivalrous and sweet was something she liked too much to let it not happen.

And when Billie took off her clothes again to get in bed by her side, skin to skin and making a gesture for her to cuddle in her arms...just absolutely blew her mind.

“I hate not being able to smoke whenever I want,” Billie sighed after pressing a kiss onto Dara’s forehead. “Withdrawal symptoms are a bitch.”

“Honey, you always have pseudo-withdrawal symptoms when you reduce from four to one even for a single visit,” Dara moved her head a bit to look at Billie.

“I know! It’s madness,” Dara got a brand new kiss, index curled under her chin. “But I can totally do it as long as I can kiss you.”

“Big sappy,” Dara followed the kiss, her own hand resting over Billie’s stomach and rubbing softly her thumb there. “What got you all dripping honey?”

“Christmas, that I finally have a long break from work after five years working my ass off, that Audrey is doing much better, maybe that my mother is going to bake my favourite pie for Christmas lunch tomorrow,” Billie’s fingers brushed Dara’s hair with care and she indulged in the moment, her voice softened. “Maybe that I have you here with me, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers watching over us like the Saints or something...I don’t know what it could be.”

Having Billie telling her all that made Dara to close her eyes and cuddle against her chest better, as if she wanted to not just indulge but to drown in the feeling and the situation. She loved, absolutely and hopelessly loved when Billie went softer than their usual. Was she loving? Of course Billie was loving, in her own weird way. She wasn’t one to dwell deeper in her feelings, but she still got it in her to make what she was feeling be known...most of the time.

Dara wanted to indulge in the little reminder that Billie was enjoying being together.

“I think it’s the pie, totally that,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to Billie’s neck with love and moving her fingers over her sternum until she was playing to her favourite game: pressing her fingertips over Billie’s chest freckles. “I’ve never seen you more happy than when you eat any kind of sugary thing.”

“That’s why I’m always happy after eating you out?” Billie laughed and wrapped her arms better around Dara, who was coughing because it took her by surprise and her own saliva went down the wrong pipe. “But let me tell you, I don’t miss my mother’s bakeries. Not when I have such a Goddess baking pure ambrosia.”

“My throat hurts too much to actually fight you back,” Dara managed to croak that muffled against Billie’s chest, her voice more hoarse than before, trying to rest and calm her breathing with Billie trying to ease the pain of coughing so violently in a short span of time. “You give me too much credit for a few cookies.”

“A few cookies? What about my birthday’s carrot cake?” Billie helped Dara to sit up so she could drink from the glass of water they carried on purpose hours before. "Or that guayaba sugar rush bar you make every three first of the month? Do I have to bring the brownies to the conversation? You don't want me to bring the brownies up."

"I get it, I get it!" Dara grumbled, her hand going directly to Billie's face to bring her a bit lower and kiss her. That made them accommodate better side by side under the quilt, Billie still kissing her sweet girl when she managed to blindly turn off the night lamp. "One day, my butter cookies are gonna start a war somewhere if they are half good as you say then."

"Oh, now that you bring that up, they kind of did," Billie said while her left hand found its place brushing Dara's hair with care and caressing her cheek softly. "I forgot to tell you, I brought over some to the office the other day because, well, we wouldn't eat them all in two days as much as I wished to," then Billie's hand lowered until she let it rest in Dara's lower back, letting her index draw lightly her dimples there before just pulling her a bit closer. "And it gave us a better plot than 'Troya'."

Dara's curiosity skyrocketed with that, letting Billie talk to her heart content and tell her about how after everyone got over the shyness of taking a harmless cookie, her crew almost fought each other over them. Not only that, they also managed to pull together the make-up artist and Billie's camera man, blossoming love thanks to Benny's being a good guy and sharing the sweetery with Jean.

Billie was really relaxed if she was talking that much, Dara thought while she let out the seventh little variation of 'really?', and she herself as well since she didn't need to cut her story to ask or add something else - aside of her throat being a bitch and making her not want to restrain it more.

There, in the darkness of Billie's old room, they were existing as if any of their problems existed. No powers, no family acting weird, no fame; just the two of them sharing the peacefulness they usually only got at home, where they were always at peace.

"...so yeah, you basically became a Goddess unknowingly by baking some innocent cookies," Billie chuckled at that, her tell-tale coming to an end, as she leant to leave a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose. "How is your throat, doll?"

"Not very goddess-ly like, but we know how I get when nodules attack me, it's just a bit tiring," Dara smiled softly when Billie kissed her lips first and then hugged her better to leave tiny kisses in her neck. "Nothing I can't handle, but I'm getting sleepy."

"We can always go downstairs to get you some honey lemon tea," the tiny 'nu' mumbled against her chest, Dara hiding in her neck, made Billie smile worriedly at her. "Why not? It would help you to get sleepy faster as well as relieve your pain."

"I've been living all my life with nodules, it's not that terrible! And also, do you really want to mess with Santa's schedule, Bills? He's already turning a blind eye because we are adults and can legally stay up after eleven," Dara felt Billie's hand giving her tiny caresses as she was trying not to laugh loudly. "We're pushing the limit and I don't know about you, but I want my present to be there in the morning."

What did Billie do in her life to end up with someone like Dara?

She truly was considering ditching that response and go get some tea to calm her throat, but hearing Dara so adamant about something like that...Billie only sighed and took the glass of water again, handing it to Dara so she could at least have a few more sips to help.

"But I already have my present here, he won't mind me wandering around the kitchen at the wee hours, even less since I’m doing some good," Billie oversaw the way Dara pouted, making her use her index to push her cheek a bit out of habit. “Okay, we stay, we stay…but if it gets worse, you tell me right away.”

“You’ll be the first one, sugar, always,” Dara smiled and kissed Billie, meaning those few words and just enjoying the soft brush of their noses. “I know that we don’t actually think of visiting our parents as...vacation, so where would you want to go? Like...actually none know us, no family around.”

“Good question…” it’s easy to mold their bodies together, legs entangling out of habit and arms draped over the waist. “I want to take you to the beach. Spend the morning there, go back to eat, maybe a nap, go back to the beach until we have to go because it’s getting dark, dinner and talk. Rinse and repeat for a week.”

“I thought you were gonna say Italy or wherever fancy,” Dara mumbled sleepily, her hand finding Billie’s to bring it under the pillow and cuddle it just like that. “You’ve been watching tons of travel programs lately.”

“I do want to take you overseas one day, yes, but first and foremost I want us to have a week of absolutely doing nothing at the beach,” Billie felt her heart swell with love, the one she felt so deeply for Dara, upon imagining that. “Remember when you accompanied me to that mansion in Yosemite? The one with the old lady who swore to me she could see her daughter?” Dara hummed in response, two thousand and twelve a bit foggy in her head thanks to her current state but still there. “We literally spent three days out of five doing nothing. Nothing but drink, nap, play your old Uno and walk around the forest...and I want that feeling back.”

“Tell me then when to pack and off we go, I’m not kidding,” Dara felt ready even half asleep, willing to throw herself under a bus if Billie wanted. “I’ll call Mavis once we are at home, do extra hours or something.”

Billie felt her heart squeeze, because the commitment Dara had with her was still up high even in a moment so unique like that one. She really thanked having the light turned off, because if not Dara would probably see how her eyes got all teary. The sweet static all over her skin made the feeling more wholesome and less...sad, as to speak, because Billie sometimes got desperate for showing her girl something like that and truly making her feel it.

“When I’m done with the new contract to film on the Hotel Cortez then,” Billie promised that with something else growing in her chest, side by side to all that love that was filling it right now. “We go straight away after that.”

“We can’t go exactly straight away,” Dara chuckled in another mumble, Billie hearing how her breathing was settling more and more but also the innuendo, which gained her a few playful pats in her butt. “But okay...still don’t like you’re going back.”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” something in the back of her head was recriminating Billie that it wasn’t actually the truth, however she shut it down. 

“Work can go to Hell as far as I care,” there was a tint of harshness in Dara’s voice that got sweetened the next second. “If that means you come back to me, home, safe and sound...”

The raw sincerity jolted Billie as if she touched a socket with her hands wet and barefoot, and it left her in silence with a Dara that managed to hide her face in the crook of her neck, sleep taking her once and for all. It was hard to leave her speechless but many of those times were always thanks to the woman that was sleeping soundly in her arms now.

She was sure none could do that like Dara.

Billie always had this feeling of not knowing where she truly belonged, she thought while trying to calm her whole being to fall asleep as well. Not even when she was young felt like she was comfortable enough or could drop her defences to rest. But since she met the younger woman, that started to change little by little in a way that Billie barely noticed until she was too into it. Almost three years had passed since the day she realized what she truly wanted, what her heart wanted…

...and that was to stay by Dara’s side.

“I love you, you know that right?”

Unheard but she said it, she managed to say it and she felt selfish but at the same time she felt on top of the world. Dara, asleep, moved and rolled to let her back face Billie and she took advantage of that to cuddle her from behind, kissing the back of her head.

“Of course you know, if not you would have escaped from me long ago.”

…

The next morning, Billie woke up alone in bed but she didn’t feel lonely. Dara was missing from her rightful side of the bed and, still trying to rub the sleep from her eyes, Billie managed to get in Dara’s pajamas before going off to find her. It was funny to see Billie in baggy clothes, being out of place with her parents’ house by miles, but she navigated through corridors with expert feet and yawning big.

She found Josephine in her expedition, getting not only a drained look but also a few bills because apparently she won the bet - Jo crowning her as the winner after she clearly saw a hickey peeking from the t-shirt collar. Billie was too content and sleepy to throw a new jab, so she only kissed Jo’s temple with some kind of weird sisterly Christmas love and locked arms with her, deciding that probably was the best for both to make their way to the kitchen.

And when they crossed the door, Billie felt herself floating in cloud nine. Not only because of the smell of coffee, but because of the view she was welcomed with. 

Dara was there talking with her mother in a respectful tone while Lucille gave her instructions, the contrast between both being way too big, over a big bowl. Billie’s father, Edward, was watching them from time to time while reading his book with a soft smile hiding under his moustache. It wasn’t something out of place, it was natural and it made Billie feel like woo because three of her most favourite people on this planet were enjoying, as far as she could see, being just there together.

“Dee, you never told me she was this good at baking,” Lucille said, barely fixing her eyes - same brown hue as her daughters - in them. 

“Well, I told you a few times she was full of surprises, mother,” Billie made her way first to kiss her father’s cheek and steal a sip from his coffee. “Where are the kids, by the way? Did I miss presents’ time?”

She couldn’t help her smile go bigger when Dara rolled her eyes and looked down to the bowl, hiding that way her embarrassment for being in the spotlight of mother-daughter’s conversation. It didn’t stop her either from walking behind her girl and murmuring a soft ‘merry Christmas, doll’ after leaving a kiss on her nape and wrapping her arms around Dara’s middle, resting her chin on her shoulder and just staying like that.

“No, you didn’t miss it. Tanya and George are still asleep,” Edward said while Josephine served two big cups of coffee for her sister and her. “So we’re enjoying the bliss before the chaos.” Even Lucille laughed softly to her husband’s cheerful tone. “Any idea of what you are getting this year, Bibs?”

“I’m hoping for a few history books or a new phone, mine got totally trashed at work,” Billie responded while trying to stick her finger in the chocolate batter, unsuccessfully because her mother noticed but getting some the same because Dara did it for her, giving her own finger for Billie to lick quickly. “And you, dad?”

But all Billie could think about was that she already had her gift between her arms, she really wasn’t joking last night. She didn’t care about anything else this Christmas but having a good time and being able to spend it all with Dara and her family. For her, that moment in the kitchen was more than enough already as well. 

She still felt happy the same when hours later she unwrapped all her new history books, the new phone and a handcrafted checkbook - which she was going to put to an use as soon as they were home -, all from Dara; plus some few other things from her parents.

However she felt the happiest when she finally handed the brand new set of car keys to her love, Dara’s eyes a chaotic mix of panic, happiness, shock and surprise. She laughed loudly when Josephine seemed about to pop up a vein upon seeing the car and her brother-in-law, Steve, high-fived her in a strange sudden burst of confidence. 

Who would have told her that having your anniversary on Christmas’ Eve was going to be such fun?

Oops, maybe she forgot to add that last night to all the reasons she was dripping honey like crazy.

#billie dean howard x original character #dara ann lynch #billie dean howard #ahs murder house #american horror story