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felinedetached · 4 years ago

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Fandom Ableism in the MCYT Community

[Edited 14 June 2021]

One thing I’ve noticed about the MCYT (Dream SMP, specifically) community on both Tumblr and Twitter is that when informed of things that are ableist, or harmful to ND people, a lot of people ignore the post/tweet, derail it or actively fight against it.

“I’m ND so I can’t be ableist” is a common statement, which is blatantly untrue. Even I’ve used ableist terms and phrases before, without realising they were harmful. So as a neurodivergent person, with autism, BPD, depression/anxiety, dyslexia, psychosis & brain damage*: here’s some common ableist things both CCs and fandom say almost constantly**.

*note that not every neurodivergent person will agree with me on these, but these are commonly ableist things people have previously talked about online, and/or have been discussed between me and other neurodivergent friends. No minority can ever speak for the entire group.

**note that a lot of these are common outside the MCYT community as well, and that some of these are just considered societally acceptable. This isn’t okay, but it explains why a lot of people don’t recognise jokes or comments like these are wrong, and it means that it’s not a direct moral failing of people that they don’t immediately or directly recognise these comments as wrong.

Now, let’s get into the things you might not have realised are potentially ableist:

1. Use of “Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath/Schizo” and other demeaning terms for people with mental illnesses as insults, or to describe characters who are considered villainous. Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath are already terms that people with ASPD dislike using, even not as an insult, but using these terms to describe people or characters who you disagree with or see as villainous only contributes to the villainisation of people with ASPD and other mental illnesses. Using c!Dream as an example: Dream as a character is not confirmed to have any of these mental illnesses. He is, however, commonly labeled as psychotic/psychopathic, incapable of any kind of compassion.

He is also a character that fandom largely insists that nobody is allowed to sympathise with. This is a huge issue, and has hurt a lot of people, especially people with low empathy, or mental illnesses that cause them to relate to some of c!Dream’s actions (e.g. pulling away from all his friends, desperately grasping at straws to gain control of situations etc). Insisting that these characters are characters it’s impossible to sympathise with, all while calling them psychotic/psychopathic/sociopathic, is extremely harmful, and I hope this post draws attention to that.

Here’s another post that talks about that.

2. Use of the term “freak”, in general. As an insult, “freak” has been typically used to insult neurodivergent people, people with visible physical disabilities (ex. “freakshow”, and the term was reportedly created with the intent of insulting people with physical disabilities), or people who display any kind of abnormal/atypical social behaviour/physical aspects — people who are usually ND people who lack a diagnosis or people with physical disabilities. Recent usage has come to mean “people who do things that hurt other people”, but this is harmful as well; using words like “freak” or “weirdo” which mean “socially atypical behaviour” to refer to people who are actually doing things that hurt other people conflates the two, and often has a side effect of hurting disabled people who see it.

3. Calling ND ccs like Technoblade monotone/emotionless. While the term “monotone” isn’t ableist in and of itself, the fact that it’s being used against a neurodivergent man who emotes in a different way to neurotypical people rubs a lot of ND people the wrong way. I’ve partially discussed this here, in a tweet responding to a person who said that c!Technoblade, quote, “has no human capabilities like emotion for example”. This, however, is not something contained to c!Technoblade — one of the most common jokes in this fandom is how rare it is to hear emotion in Technoblade’s voice.

The issue with that is that neurodivergent people almost universally agree that Technoblade emotes perfectly fine, and, in fact, emotes more freely and clearly than a lot of others do. Hence, calling him monotone perpetuates the idea of ND people as emotionless/less able to be hurt/less expressive, which often hurts us. It also contributes to the dehumanisation of ND people — related to how ND symptoms are most often seen in robots or monsters in shows — and is generally extremely harmful, on top of being untrue.

4. Related to point 3: the infantilisation of ND ccs like Tubbo and Dream, usually paired with assigning “caretakers” of their friends, like Tommy and George. This is about the posts that spread like “omg, Tommy helps Tubbo with his dyslexia, that’s so cute” or “omg George is so patient with Dream, I could never sit through that” on videos of Dream vocally stimming because of his ADHD. This is another post that talks about this, but I wanted to talk more about why this is harmful here.

4a) With Tubbo’s dyslexia, from someone with dyslexia, it isn’t harmful to correct his spelling and move on. Personally, I think this is helpful — others will think it’s condescending, because not all ND people are the same — but as the above linked post mentions, this is not what Tubbo’s twitch chat does. This is not what the comments say. It’s all things about how it’s “so cute” that Tubbo can’t spell, how Tommy/Ranboo are “so patient” with correcting him. This is rooted in the need to constantly watch over ND people while acting like we can't live our lives without someone having us under constant vigilance. It feels like savior-complex ableism, like people are trying so hard to not be ableist that they spin back around to hurting us instead. And it feels like we are being treated like children. Like we are lesser than, and need to be monitored/watched over.

4b) Similarly to what people do with Tubbo, the comments on posts about Dream’s vocal stimming are often full of people calling George “patient” for “dealing with it”, or claiming they “wouldn’t be able to handle it”. This is inherently ableist. They’re praising George for basic human decency towards ND people, and claiming in the same breath that they wouldn’t be able to do that themselves. And then there’s these.

These comments infantilise Dream — claiming he “wouldn’t be able to stop/calm down” without George’s help, implying he’d “spiral out of control” or claiming “everyone is now my child”. It’s all related to the infantilisation of ND people, and the belief that without help/a caretaker we cannot take care of ourselves.

5. The way people treat ccs who likely have undiagnosed neurodivergencies, like Wilbur. Wilbur has openly admitted on stream before that his parents considered getting him an autism diagnosis. He also openly admits on stream that he has habits he doesn’t understand why he does, and hyperfixates on things for months at a time and doesn’t know why. Posts like this have gone around Tumblr, in which Wilbur displays blatantly ND traits.

And fandom generally calls him weird for expressing those traits. This video where he talks about eating sand because he likes the texture? That’s an ND trait. This video where he talks about his irrational hatred for anteaters? While mostly a joke, irrational hatred of something when you can’t explain/understand/articulate why is also a common ND trait. He spends 20 minutes during a Philza stream info-dumping about self-sustaining ecosystems (sharing the photo, because I think it’s really cool) and fandom begins calling them “Wilbur’s weird jars”. It’s demeaning to people who infodump, and as a ND person who hyperfixates and infodumps it’s really upsetting to see. It’s also upsetting to see other ND traits being called “weird” or “freaky” & made out to be soley some funny joke for NT people to laugh at us about.

Additionally: It’s strange to me that people think it’s okay to make fun of ND traits just because they know that or perceive that the person they’re making fun of is NT. It’s still making fun of ND traits. It’s still insulting ND people. It’s still ableist as hell. Why is it okay just because the person is NT?

6. Implying that c!Ranboo’s enderwalking is inherently violent. Ranboo has shown us time and time again that the enderwalk state isn’t a violent state. That the enderwalk state isn’t a seperate version of c!Ranboo that does horrific things. Why, then, is it so common to imply that Ranboo would be violent and hurt people why he’s enderwalking?

It comes back to the perception of c!Ranboo as a character with “two halves”, or as a character with DID. Ranboo has made it clear that his character does not have DID, but this headcanon about his character persists, and it persists in a way that is directly harmful to people with DID — and to people who dissociate or sleepwalk. We do not commit horrific acts while we dissociate, while we’re sleepwalking, because the majority of the time we’re just checked out, our body is on autopilot. Insinuating that we do is harmful. Insinuating that Ranboo has “another half” that’s inherently violent or evil is harmful to people with DID. I’m not going to ask you to stop writing these headcanons etc, but please consider the effect you have on people before you do.

7. Related to point 6: the perception of c!Ranboo as “soft” and “cute” and/or perfectly moral because of his canonical anxiety. This is really harmful, and comes once again from the infantilisation of disorders like anxiety and depression. Ranboo has made clear time and time again that his character isn’t moral, and in fact is extremely inconsistent. He’s portrayed his character as inconsistent, as someone who hurts his friends unintentionally and often due to his want to please everyone, and yet he’s constantly seen as “soft/pure/the only moral one” because of his anxiety causing to have repeated and consistent spirals on-screen. These spirals are not healthy. They don’t indicate his “perfect morals” or make him more moral than anyone else on the SMP. Please stop infantilising people with anxiety, it’s really hurtful.

8. Implying that c!Technoblade is inherently a violent person because of his voices. I’ll admit here: my hallucinations are visual. I do not get auditory hallucinations, and I cannot speak for people who do. But many people have spoken out about this, and discussed how talking about Technoblade as an inherently violent character because of his voices is harmful, and a stereotype of people with schizophrenia.

Technoblade’s character is, in and of itself, inherently a stereotype (despite the fact that his chat are more likely to be a supernatural entity than a symptom of a disorder such as schizophrenia) in that the idea of “hearing voices that encourage violence” is a stereotype of people with schizophrenia. As an actual symptom, is a very uncommon one. More common auditory hallucinations for people with schizophrenia or psychosis are, reportedly, whispers or unrelated conversation. One of my friends hears screaming.

But the issue is with the implication that c!Technoblade is “driven to violence” by the voices. Canonically, he has dealt with the “bloodlust” of chat by grinding withers. He’s perfectly capable of being peaceful, even with “voices pushing for violence”, and he’s perfectly capable of being violent without the “voices” influence. It’s the connotations and the history that fandom has in demonising and villainising c!Technoblade for even having the “voices” in the first place, and acting having them makes him inherently violent and unstable. There’s precedent for that already in society, and it’s not okay to perpetuate it.

[Edit: as of 22/05/2021, I do experience auditory hallucinations, and I can confirm that I am not any more violent, and the voices I hear don’t push me to violence. The clearest one just said ‘click’ in my ear.]

9. Jokes about brain damage and the use of “brainrot” as a term. I made a post about how common jokes about brain damage are here, and I would like to reiterate bits of it.

Jokes like these are really really normalized in modern society. I’m sure a lot of you didn’t even register it as wrong, and that isn’t a moral failing! It’s a norm in society, and that means the majority of people arent going to register it as something hurtful, because it’s said so often. But it does still hurt. The idea of using a disability as an insult is really harmful and it feels dehumanizing, like our disability makes us lesser, something that should be laughed at.

“Brainrot” as a term originated in Skyrim, as a disease that literally rotted your brain. However, as a term, it has very similar connotations to “brain damaged” and has been used in similarly joking and insulting ways. It’s something that feels really off to me and other neurodivergent people to see used by neurotypical people. It even sometimes feels uncomfortable when used by neurodivergent people, even if it’s used in positive ways. I know quite a few people who have removed it from their vocab completely because of the connotations, and I have personally done the same. Once again, I am just asking you to please consider your words before you use them.

10. Calling c!Wilbur during his Pogtopia Arc “Vilbur”. Yes, he was a villain. Yes, he hurt people. But c!Wilbur during the Pogtopia Arc only has one major difference from c!Wilbur during the L’Manburg Arc: a visible depiction of mental illness, specifically paranoia and psychosis. Treating him as a seperate person and calling that seperate person “Vilbur” comes across as extremely hurtful, and contributes to the villainisation of mentally ill people. His mental illness does not excuse him from hurting people, but calling c!Wilbur “Vilbur” upsets a lot of us, because wether or not it’s intended, it feels reductive, hurtful, and insulting.

If you got to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading. I hope that this helped you recognise things that you might not have known were ableist, and that you consider what I’ve said here. I also know that I haven’t addressed everything ableist that’s spread through the MCYT fandom community, so if you’re ND and have something you’d like to add, please feel free.

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idrellegames · 2 years ago

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I'm not quite sure where this falls in your ask guidelines, so please ignore if you prefer!

I admire you as a creator and you always give very well-thought answers, so I was curious about your feelings engaging with the public? I'm writing my own interactive fiction but I'm conflicted about sharing it; on one hand, I love how transparent the process is and as a fan getting to participate has been really cool and it's led to some amazing communities, but on the other interacting as a creator just seems kind of daunting? Draining?? It just seems like a LOT I guess.

No worries at all, I’m happy to help!

Public engagement (and social media management in general) is an important part of being an independent creator. When your work is centred online, folks are only going to be interested if you build some kind of presence. How much time you invest in it will greatly depend on how much time you want to devote to it (because it does take a lot of time) and also how comfortable you are. Different creators will have different levels of comfort for interactions with fans.

For me, the social media management is one of the most fun parts of my job. I wouldn’t do it this way if I wasn’t having fun. I love hearing from players, I love seeing reactions to the game, especially as folks find new paths they didn’t think were there. But there are downsides, too: for every positive ask I get, there’s a negative one lurking around the corner. There are negative reviews and ratings on my itch.io page. I have folks dump criticism in my bug report form (that’s not what it’s for). I get repeat asks about things that I have already responded to public and documented clearly on my blog or the game page itself.

I have a few base rules for handling social media and interactions with the playerbase:

1. Set boundaries and stick to them. You might be tempted to respond to everything, but for the sake of your own mental health, set boundaries. Figure out what kind of questions you don’t want to answer and write it down. I have mine listed here (no NSFW asks, no RO react asks).

Don’t feel like you need to sort out everything right away; you can always update your ground rules. If you receive a message that crosses your boundaries, delete it.

2. Set aside time to do social media management and don’t answer anything outside that time. This one’s really important, otherwise you will get overwhelmed. Social media management is work. For me, some asks are really easy to answer; others take upwards of 30 minutes or an hour (advice, tutorials, etc). If you feel like you need to respond to something as soon as you receive it, you’re never going to have time for yourself.

3. Be selective about what social media apps you use. I primarily use tumblr and Discord because that’s where I’m comfortable. While I do have Twitter and Instagram, I post very infrequently there because I don’t particularly like them and I don’t have to time to figure out how to use them accordingly for my project. While I’m sure I could grow a Wayfarer community on either platform, I don’t have time to manage tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, and Discord*.

*If you're making a ChoiceScript game, I would consider your Choice of Games forum thread social media management.

4. Prepare for common questions. More than one person is going to have the same question. When this happens, prepare a post you can link the asker to so you don't need to type out the same answer every time.

This is why I have the Troubleshooting Game Launch & Save Errors post on my itch.io community forum.

Making a clear FAQ also helps with this; if in doubt, just link them the FAQ.

5. Get help managing your accounts. You won’t need this right away, but if you find you’re getting overwhelmed, ask for help. My development blog is a sideblog, which made it easy to add a friend to help me manage my inbox and queue. I also have a moderator team on Discord who handle the more intimidating interactions with members. I rarely do moderation myself because as a creator, it’s best I stay a few steps removed from the action; my view of what’s going on is always going to be biased in my favour.

6. Don’t answer when you’re angry or annoyed. You’re going to receive a lot of weird shit in your messages, especially if you accept anonymous asks on tumblr.

(You can always turn off anon. I like to keep anon on because my blog is the main way to contact me and I’d like to stay open for players who don’t have tumblr accounts or who are too shy to send a public ask.)

Most of the time, I delete messages that are genuinely upsetting. People who send hate asks are trolls looking to get a reaction out of you; I like to deny them the satisfaction of knowing they "got" to me.

But if I do need to respond, I usually give myself a few days to settle down before I reply. Sometimes I’m misinterpreting what the sender is saying, or I took it more negatively than it was intended. There’s always a genuine human being on the other end of an ask, and I don’t know what their life is like or what they’re going through. I try my best to treat them with grace (though sometimes this can be difficult and I'm snappier than I intend to be, especially if they're asking a question I've already answered, breaks my guidelines, or whose answer is easily available on my blog or game page).

7. It’s OK to delete and block, no matter the reason. If someone is harassing you, if they’re being particularly annoying with repeat asks, or if you’re getting messages that leave a bad taste in your mouth, delete it and block the sender. On tumblr, blocking an anonymous ask will block the sender’s IP address so they can’t send public or anon messages anymore*.

*Sometimes it glitches on desktop and I have to use mobile instead.

8. It’s OK not to answer everything. I struggled with this one the most when I first started my blog. I felt like to create a community, I had to answer everything, even the asks I wasn’t comfortable answering. But it’s not your responsibility to answer everyone all the time. An ask (or any social media message) is just a question, and it’s within your rights to decline to answer.

If you’re just starting out, most of the above is not going to apply right away. But a good rule of thumb to go by is to never do more than you’re comfortable.

If your game is new or you're just starting out, I have a few other pieces of advice that may be helpful:

1. It takes time to build a community. It takes a long time. I’ve had my blog since 2019 and it’s only in the past year that it’s started to really grow. Don’t rush it. Focus on your game first, then the playerbase.

2. Focus on your game above all else. You can’t build a community if you don’t have playable content. If you want folks to engage with you, you need to have an existing game. I made my dev blog before I had a working demo, but my dev blog floundered for about two years before I had enough publicly playable material for folks to start to take an interest. If I was doing this over again, I would make a sizable public demo* before starting a blog or any related social media.

*By sizable, I mean more than a prologue and a character creator. You want players to spend enough time playing your game so they have a good sense of your world and who their MC is. Ideally, you want your first public demo to fully set up your MC, the world, an initial companion character and/or characters, and also feel like a complete experience. Don’t have your demo just end because you’re rushing to get something out. You have one shot at making an impression; don’t leave players hanging on an awkward note. Your first demo should end with the completion of your game’s first major story beat. Give players something more significant to do than choosing what their MC looks like.

3. Character asks/prompts (RO react asks and related) are often a waste of time. While these types of asks can help generate interest in your game (especially in the interactive fiction tumblr sphere), they are usually a waste of time and reveal too much information, too soon. While it’s good to give players a taste of what’s to come and things to be excited about, in-depth character asks can spoil the experience of a character before that character is introduced in the game itself.

More importantly, if you find you’re spending more time doing social media management and answering character asks than working on your game, then you need to switch gears. More game content = more community building. Asks are secondary to that.

Don’t fall into the trap of wanting or needing engagement to be able to create.

4. Don’t do more than you’re comfortable. You don’t need social media to make a successful IF game. If you feel like it’s too much at any point, it’s OK to take a step back.

I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for, but I hope it helps! Good luck on your project. 💕

#wayfarer #wayfarer if #interactive fiction #interactive novel #writeblr #indie game #twine #twine game #coding in twine #on writing #answered

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jasmine-the-fox · 4 years ago

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She got the helping hand she needed

Sorry for not writing anything for such a long time! Don’t worry Loose the model but win a hero is going to be updated soon enough... Just give me some time to read what I wrote so far and I might have a chapter or two up soon?

Marinette only wanted someone on her side after she spoke her side of the story, sure Chloe turned from believing Lila to protecting Mari and she had Kagami and Luka on her side... But her class, miss Bustier and her principal thought she was the bad guy, a bully, a thief or even a villain.

She really just wanted a friend, someone who would let her cry or someone who would listen to her... Even just give her a helping hand! But so far she didn’t have much help, she decided to go online to talk... With the hopes of finding her soulmate, yeah her soulmate... Something that Lila had claimed she was lying about, while Lila talks about her soulmate mark without showing it... Mari was showing her’s to her friends while trying to figure out who it was.

Chloe really wanted to help her, so she went on her international social media accounts and posted Mari’s mark asking for anyone who might have an idea on who might be her soulmate to reach out to her, she really hopes it might help as heck even Jagged Stone did the same thing! Asking his fans to help out with finding his niece’s soulmate making his fans agree and get to work, they began looking at the mark Mari has, asking there friends questions, asking what Marinette is like so they can try and pinpoint possible matches to the girl.

And so far people were doing there best to find something... But still there wasn’t much, anyone could match the orange and black smoking dragon wrapped around her neck and might not even want to reach out to her at all, it made sense since like Alya said if Mari does have a soulmate... They might not even like her and want nothing to do with her once they see her for who she is.

Until someone contacted her.

It was on her instagram, she was just uploading a new outfit she finished that was delivered that she could now reveal when she got the notification of someone reaching out to her on instagram, it was a boy around her age named Katsuki Bakugo. The guy was blond with spiky hair and sharp red eyes, he asked about the dragon design around her neck making her take a picture and sent it to him... Five minutes later he sent a picture of his left rib cage that shows a ladybug with a needle with a red thread.

He was her soulmate... They matched.

He asked if she was disappointed… Knowing her soulmate was an explosive guy who yells often... So it wasn’t smoke but explosions around the dragon, it then made sense to her and so she replied that she would like to meet him before making that decision, Katsuki explained that he was in Japan and he didn’t know if he would ever get a chance to go to Paris to meet her so she explained that she could wait and that for now this was enough for her.

But that didn’t mean her classmates cared about waiting...

They kept bothering her, kept pushing and hurting her, they laughed at her belief of having a soulmate when Lila claimed she was lying, for weeks and then months they kept going and made it worse for the young designer, then one day Lila claimed that the dragon was painted on her so Alya planned to dump water on Marinette to show the whole school that Marinette was lying about having a soulmate, so one day around lunch, Alya had with the help of Kim and Alix a huge container of water and waited over the entrance of the locker room for Mari to come out and when they saw her... They poured the water on her.

Everyone laughed at her... And then gasped.

The sight of the mark still being there proved that it wasn’t a fake... But seeing a boy with spike blonde hair with sharp red eyes glaring at everyone as he rushed towards Mari told them that he was her soulmate “You alright?” he asked softly as he handed her his jacket to cover her shivering body as they walked out of the school and towards the Grand hotel to get dry and dressed in dry clothes, Mari felt relief when she finally saw her soulmate for the first time, he brought her into the room he was staying in and brought her to the bathroom to take a hot shower while he get’s her a change of clothes.

Once she got out of the shower wrapped in a towel with her pigtails down, Katsuki had just set down on the bed a nice dress for her to wear, to find her hair down and slightly dripping with water made him quickly look away, tell her he got her some clothes and leave the room... He hopes she never finds out that he was the one to design her dress as a gift for when he meets her, it was Jasmine’s idea to be honest, Jasmine was his and Izuku’s childhood friend back when they were little and she with Izuku were known as the youngest people to find there soulmate since they met when they were four.

At the time, it was a big thing meeting your soulmate... But when your four? That’s something the world had to know, so Izuku did a lot of research about soulmates and proper gifts and discovered that handmade gifts show a great deal of love... So he made her a green bunny plushie as a gift, when Katsuki saw Marinette’s mark only through Jagged Stone’s fan website he went to look for Marinette and discovered she was his soulmate... Not knowing what to do Jasmine suggested he designs an outfit for her to wear... And he decided to not tell her he made it himself.

Just in case she rejects him in the end.

It was better this way... So he doesn’t feel the pain of her hating his work, he went to the room Izuku and Jasmine were sharing while his parent’s were out to get things ready for the photoshoot he was to work in, he knocked and Jasmine answered “Did something happen?” she asked as he barged into the room “Students laughed at her after someone dumped fucking water on her!” he exclaimed in anger making Izuku look at him in slight surprise “Kacchan... I get that your upset right now... But remember that you just met so your emotions are going to be all over the place right now” Izuku explained making Katsuki sigh and nod.

It was true, it has been confirmed that when you meet your soulmate or at least confirm who it is... Both person’s emotions go crazy for 24h of official meeting, so it’s best to be careful what you say of do when the pair is found “I just don’t know what to do?! What if she hates me!? I mean she was being bullied!! What will she think when she finds out what I used to do to you and Jasmine!?” he asked making Izuku sigh “I know it’s hard... But at least let her decide what she thinks? She might just surprise you” he explained as Katsuki sat down on the bed... He didn’t even notice Jasmine leaving the room to go find Marinette.

She walked into the room as Marinette cried with her phone in hand... She could tell the girl was going through something hard right now from something on her phone “Can I take a look at what is upsetting you?” she asked making Mari jump at her slightly, she then nodded and handed over her phone for Jasmine to look at... On the phone a girl named Alya was calling her a liar by getting a tattoo and claimed it to be her mark and then paying a guy to come over to the school to make them think there soulmates, a teacher sent an email saying she was getting detention for her actions at school and then a guy named Adrien was claiming to be disappointed in her on not taking the highroad like he said she should do.

She sighed and then moved to sit next to her on the bed “Allowing yourself to look at this isn’t healthy... Your allowing them to take you down into a depression to then end your life” Jasmine explained as she handed Mari her phone back “Katsuki would have been heartbroken if his mark vanished before meeting you... Let us help you to get better from this” she then offered and stood up with her hand stretched out for Marinette to take, she wasn’t all that sure of agreeing to be honest but the brunette seemed to be honest and kind... So Mari accepted the hand and follow the girl out of the room and towards another room where Katsuki and a curly green haired boy were.

The blonde turned to find Marinette still with her hair down but while wearing the beautiful sunset styled dress, he felt proud of designing the dress because she looked amazing while wearing it “You should call your parents and explain to them the situation” Jasmine said making Mari nod and quickly call them, explaining why she left school and her current location, they only ask for her to pick up her things from school and then stay safe where she was currently “If you want I can go to the school for you, just tell me your locker combination” Jasmine explained making Mari nod “Oh! Also i’m Jasmine Lessard and this is my soulmate Izuku Midoriya” Jasmine explained making the green haired boy nod to his introduction.

Jasmine left and came back with all of her things with a smile “Police came because someone witnessed the incident and demanded to see the CCTV footage and that the three students who dumped the water on you to be punished... So you don’t have detention anymore” she explained making Mari smile, but she was sure that it wasn’t over just yet, even so the trio began to talk to Mari about there life in Japan making Marinette happy about hearing all of this at the moment, after a while Jasmine left the room with Izuku to head out to find something to eat... Leaving Katsuki to reveal to his soulmate how he bullied his two friends from childhood.

And she still accepted him as her soulmate.

“Your trying to change your ways... The others changed for the worse while your fixing what you did wrong” she explained making him smile, the thought of her accepting him even after finding out that had bullied people before like she had gone through made him happy “I guess I should tell you... I actually designed the dress your wearing. My parents are fashion designers so it’s pretty much in the family” he explained making Mari smile at the news, the idea of her soulmate being close to designing made her happy at the fact he could help her in some ways, they began to talk about all kinds of things... Really anything they could think of until Izuku and Jasmine got back with Chloe right behind them with a look of relief at seeing Mari was alright.

For the next three days, Mari got to know Katsuki a little better making her really happy, after that he had work to do and wasn’t able to see her “Why don’t you come to the shoot? My parents have been bothering me since they saw the dress was gone” he explained making her smile and nod to the plan, when school ended she rushed home to put her things away and then went to the park to find Jasmine and Izuku were getting there make-up done for the shoot “Where’s Katsuki?” she asked making Jasmine look at her “He’s still changing... Turns out he and his mom don’t agree on something so there fighting at the moment” she explained making Mari nod as the two then moved to do the shoot.

She waited for a while as Adrien arrived with Lila, Alya and Nino with him, Lila noticed Mari and began to cry about how Mari had been sending her horrible texts about how her soulmate Katsuki Bakugo will hate her, Alya enraged was just about to head over when Katsuki went over to Mari with a lady who looked like him “Mari, this is my mom Mitsuki” he said making Marinette smile “So your the girl my brat Katsuki designed that dress for! My you are simply adorable!” she claimed making Mari blush at the woman's words.

Alya was lost, didn’t Lila say her soulmate was Katsuki? But that guy is Katsuki since she did show pictures of him... Did she lie? With a shake of her head she watched as Mitsuki took Mari away for something making Alya have no other choice but go back in defeat to her friends, Adrien moved away with Lila to get ready for there shoot while Alya told Nino what she heard “Maybe it’s the wrong guy? Just ask for his full name and see” he explained making her nod as she then saw Marinette dressed in a matching outfit to Katsuki walk over to the boy for a shoot together “You both look amazing! And your marks are in perfect view!” Mitsuki claimed as Alya saw the ladybug with sewing needle and red thread mark on Katsuki.

Lila lied. Katsuki wasn’t her soulmate... He was Marinette’s.

She looked over to Nino who had the same shocked face as she did, the duo then walked away for there shoot just as Lila and Adrien returned and a girl with short brown hair with the bottom half dyed red with glasses and a boy with curly green hair went to sit a little away from them “Oh my god it’s my BFF Jasmine! You know I actually helped her meet her soulmate Izuku a few years ago!” Lila claimed as Adrien while he did look interested... Actually winced at the lie “Dudette... Jasmine and Izuku were the youngest soulmate pair in history... They were four when they met and it’s still all over the news today” Nino explained as Lila went pale.

“You want to know something?” Alya asked the blind Lila who nodded with a smile “I saw the blonde boy, his name is Katsuki Bakugo and his mark on his left rib side... It’s a ladybug with a sewing needle and a red thread!” she claimed making Lila’s eyes widen in shock “The only one I remember being called a ladybug was Marinette who also loves to design clothes! We just began calling you our ladybug after you claimed Mari was insulting us and bullying you!” she exclaimed as Lila looked to be panicking at the fact she was found out like this.

Adrien on the other hand... Didn’t know what to do, he turned to look over where the two from the previous shoot were and saw that they were... Laughing and filming the whole thing, this was humiliating! If the video got out his father would be destroyed and known as the man who hired a liar as a model! He had to try and save himself, he looked around for some possible help but the sudden yelling fight between Alya and Lila made him move away to try and hide, he couldn’t believe he failed... He really thought that by being Lila’s friend she would at some point stop lying and change her ways... And yet it didn’t work... Instead his friends got hurt.

He began to look around for some help and ended up finding Marinette and Katsuki looking amazing during there shoot... Maybe even better then he and Lila ever could be really, he felt his heart break as he looked at his inner right wrist to where a beautiful vine of flowers graced his skin... He still didn’t know who his soulmate was and his father wanted him to date Lila, even so he tried looking at places with plants in Paris for his soulmate and could tell they weren’t in Paris at all... He just hopes to find them soon.

In the end Jasmine was actually livestreaming the whole incident with Izuku commenting the whole time in the chat... Letting everyone know about how Lila is a liar, how she tricked her classmates, teacher, principal and maybe even her parents and bullied his best friends soulmate... It went crazy and Lila was bombarded with insults on her social media... So much that she was reported and all her accounts were taken down, the class, Bustier and principal Damocles were also attacked for what they did to Marinette... Police ended up getting involved and investigated the school and class.

It took a month before the investigation was over, the class was punished, Bustier and Damocles were fired and Lila was sent to live in Italy... The class thought that things would then go back to how they were and would be friends with Mari again... But she never came back to class, there new teacher said she transferred to another school making them try to look around Paris for her... What they weren’t told was that she also left Paris for Japan to be with Katsuki and meet his friends.

She really did get the helping hand she needed all along.

#boku no hero academia #miraculous ladybug #miraculous salt #Katsuki bakugo #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #alya salt #lila salt #lila gets exposed #adrien salt #no quirks au #Soulmate au #oc #izuku midoriya #Izuku x oc #Marinette x katsuki #Oc Jasmine #no miraculous au

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fictionalsownme · 4 years ago

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drivers license (hawks x you)

summary: you and hawks broke it off a month ago, but your heart aches for him every single day. In one last attempt to get over him, you invite him over to come get the last of his stuff. 2k word count. enjoy!

warnings: lots of angst, ending is bittersweet/open ended. no pronouns used for reader, mostly for practice so editing is light ^^". swearing, arguing, mutually responsible break up. starts with a bit of a text wall about your broken heart :,I

You saw him everywhere. In the empty couch cushions. In the bare shoe rack. In the dusty balcony railing. In your cold hands. In the cold sheets.

You mourned him like the deceased. Seeing his smile on the news was like seeing a ghost. But you knew he lived, every single day. He woke up every morning. He went to work. He went home. He was out there somewhere, even now, living his life alone. Just as you were. It was an obvious truth, but one you couldn’t fucking bear.

Sometimes you wondered if he thought of the last year like you did. If he stayed awake, freezing to the bone, burning in the darkness of the room you used to share.

Sometimes you’d convince yourself, of course. Of course he does. He told me he loved me. A month is nothing compared to the year we spent together. When you found these thoughts getting too loud, the urge to reach out almost too much, reality would fucking crush you. A new video with a fan would pop up online, or he’d do an interview on TV, or go to some stupid televised event. And there he’d be. Glowing.

You knew he was always stone in public, but if he loved you as much as he’d always told you, the pain would show, wouldn’t it? He’d be falling apart at the seams, like you were. His eyes would be swollen, his throat would be sore, he’d frown just once. But he was as he always was. Smug, beautiful, perfect.

You’d think this would help you move on. It didn’t. Seeing him fine made you question everything. It was obvious he didn’t love you anymore, but did he ever at all?

The past month had been agony whenever you were alone with your thoughts. You just wanted to forget him, to forget all this pain. If he didn’t love you anymore, you were determined to find some reprieve of your own. To move on.

The first step seemed to be getting the last of his things out and away. One of his hero jackets, his sweatpants, his reusable water bottle, all of it. Everything you’d clung to when things got too tough. You’d have to see him one last time, but you were determined to find closure. To say goodbye. To his things, and to him.

——

You agonized over the text forever. At one point it was a lengthy paragraph, at another, just a single word. After what felt like hours, you settled on something simple and polite, sending it before you could question the words again.

You left some things here. Come get them?

You clutched your phone to your chest while you waited for his response, curled up on the couch. With your gaze up at the ceiling, you lost track of time. You cringed when you felt your phone vibrate.

sure thing kid be there after shift

You dragged your hands down your face and took a shaky breath. You were terrified. That despite how many times you dried your eyes, he’d know you’d been crying. That despite how many times you washed his clothes, he’d know you’d been clutching them in your sleep. That he’d know just how broken he had left you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to get up, so you waited for him there on the couch. The sun was starting to set when you heard a knock at your balcony door. You lifted your head from it’s position over the back of the arm rest and met his eyes.

He stood on the other side of the glass, his hands in his pockets. His feathers twitched when your eyes met, but his face was blank… stoic.

You swallowed hard, throat feeling raw and dry. “It’s open!” Your voice cracked as it left your sore throat. You screwed up your lips at the sound. Hawks shuffled with his feet for a moment before sliding the door open.

He stepped in, seeming for once uncomfortable. He was in his hero uniform, looking exactly as you thought he would. You could almost feel his warmth from there.

“Um.” You sat up, giving an awkward sniff. “Your stuff, it’s-- It’s over here.” You pulled yourself up from the couch.

“Tttthanks…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from a dry laugh as you scooped the plastic bag of his things from by the front door. “It’s not like you to be so awkward, Hawks.” You extended it to him. “Something throwing you off?”

Smiling with him in your sights felt so familiar and sore. One of his classic smirks broke out on his lips, but it was paired with a heavy sigh. “C’mon, kid, don’t do me like that.”

“Like what?”

He sighed again. Then a soft, “Don’t be mean.”

Your smile dropped, heart sinking as you looked away. All at once the air changed, and everything was serious. Everything was raw.

He’d failed to take the bag from you, so it rubbed against the skin of your arm as you hugged yourself. You stayed quiet.

“You’re really ready for me to take everything?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t look him in the eyes. He’d know the truth if you did. Not even a little. Despite your best efforts, your breath grew shaky. You knew he noticed.

“Yeah. Don’t blame you, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a motion that made your heart pang. “Alright, kid. Whatever you want.” Your gaze moved on it’s own when you saw movement near the bookshelf by your TV.

A feather. Untucking itself from between two paperbacks. You audibly gasped as it flew towards you, stopping in front of your nose. Hawks plucked it from the air and twirled it in his fingers.

“Have…” Raspy and trembling. You tried again. “Have you been listening to me?”

“No. Just listening for louder stuff. Screams, glass breaking. Stuff like that.”

“Why?” You knew you sounded hurt, heartbroken, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You gave back your necklace. And I couldn’t be here myself… so…”

You looked at him. From his creased brow, to the fidgeting with the feather in his fingers. He stared down at it. His feet shuffled. He swallowed.

“S… Stop it.” You managed. You took a step away.

“What?”

“You, you don’t get to do that, Keigo.” The use of his name made him flinch, but he didn’t look at you. He looked like a scorned kid.

“I was only listening for sounds for danger. Most of the time I’m not close enough to your place to hear quiet sounds if I wanted.”

“No. Not that. Why… Why are you upset? That’s not fair.”

He rolled his eyes before meeting your gaze. “Jesus, kid. You dumped me after a year and I’m not allowed to need a minute to adjust?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. You took another step away. “No! You- you didn’t love me.”

“What? Do you seriously fucking think that? You left me!” You hated when he yelled at you, even now.

“You, you—,” you sniffed as tears started rolling their way down your cheeks. Hawks was fierce, stern. His eyes glowed in the orange light of the setting sun. Completely beautiful. “You gave up on us! You didn’t want me anymore! You said so- you said the night everything happened!”

“What the fuck! When—”

“ And then! And then! We broke and you left and you were fine! I see you all the time, Keigo! Online, on TV, on the news, and you’re always so fine! You smile and you laugh and I’m stuck here and I’m always crying and so alone—!”

“Hold the fuck on!” You broke down into sobs, giving him a chance to speak as you rubbed endlessly at your eyes. “You seriously think just because I don’t break down in front of cameras that I’m not fucking destroyed over you!”

“You’re not—!”

“And the night I left, I left to cool off and you told me not to come back! That’s on you, kid! Don’t start shifting blame just because you can’t stand’ you shut the door on me!”

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he kept going.

“And seriously, kid! A year wasn’t long enough for you to get that I’m a fucking machine in front of the cameras? All I do in public is puke up the words they fed me, do the things they taught me! You know that!”

“Of course I do!” You hiccupped a sob. “But I was all alone, and- and, all I saw was you, and even as I fell completely apart, you were smiling! Do you have a-any idea what that’s like?! What else can I assume, when I feel so completely like nothing, and you’re so beautiful, but that you meant all those horrible fucking things you said to me! And that maybe you never loved me at all!”

He was quiet, but his chest was rising and falling with adrenaline. He seemed to not know what to say, so you waited. You wiped your eyes until they were surely red.

“Do you really think I never loved you, kid? That I don’t now?”

You gave a wry laugh. “Clearly you don’t remember the things you said to me.”

“I… No, I don’t. But you know what I do remember? I remember realizing I’d fucked up. I remember seeing your face, seeing I’d hurt you. And I remember kissing you and apologizing. And I remember telling you I needed a second and going for a flight. I remember being midair, reading the text that you sent me. Kid, you left me.”

He was crying now. He let the tears fall unacknowledged. Like maybe if he ignored them, they weren’t really there to betray his feelings,

“I-I know I got a lot of issues kid, but you know it too. And you know I was working on them, getting better. I’ve fucked up so many times, but you told me you’d always be there to help. Fuck, babe, we were supposed to be there for each other!”

You sobbed. You wanted to run away, to storm off. Maybe if this wasn’t happening at your place, you would’ve.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. I am. But you gave up on us too! You know I run away sometimes, but you let me! Not once did you even ask me to stay. Why… why didn’t you?”

He blinked at you, cheeks still wet with neglected tears. “I don’t know.” He shrugged, seeming so worn down. You believed him. He didn't know.

You sniffed and forced your hands away from your eyes. The plastic bag slid down from the bend of your elbow and you began to fiddle with the material of the handles. Though your lip refused to stop quivering. “So what happens now?”

You could feel his eyes on you.

“... Let’s try again.”

You met his gaze with a start. “Keigo, I—”

“Just hear me out, dove.” You did, watching his expression go equal parts loving and full of pain. “It’s obvious we’re still sore, but… I didn’t want to break up. It sounds like you didn’t either. Let’s take some time, take a break, feel better. And once we’re ready, come with me to dinner. It doesn’t have to be anything beyond dinner if you want, but… let’s just take it one step at a time, you know?”

When he took a step closer this time, you didn’t take one back.

You gut twisted. You missed him so much, but the things he’d said, and these past few weeks, they still hurt to think about. Keigo still hurt to think about. It sounded like he felt the same way.

While you thought, Keigo had snuck up on you. He threaded his fingers through yours and you flinched at the warmth of his hands. While you sucked in a shaky breath, his other hand sat the bag on the floor. He moved slow, like he was scared you’d run away.

“Keigo.” Your tears started up fresh. Your forehead pressed gently against his chest. The fur of his jacket tickled your cheek.

“I know, baby. I know.”

You swallowed hard as he wrapped his arms around you, your fingers pulling on his hero shirt.

“You don’t have to decide now. We’ve been through a fuckin’ lot. I know you’re still feeling a little raw. Take your time. I will, too. And then… just some dinner. See if we can make this mess make sense.” He laughed a little at that, but you knew he was still crying fresh tears.

You laughed too. Maybe, with some time, you could manage some dinner.

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keyheartsia-dorm · 4 years ago

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The Dorm Leaders with a S/O who Burned themselves making Microwave Food

(This is definitely not something that just happened to me like 10 minutes ago but you should definitely like and subscribe and don’t forget to hit the Bell icon Cause seriously some parts of my hand Hurt like a B...Not that I burned myself or anything)

Riddle Rosehearts

• So Your feeling a Gosh dang HUNGER

• You’re too hungry to wait For Trey to bake anything So

• So Kennel Corn it is!

• In your HUNGER daze you threw the popcorn in carelessly and forget to Press the Popcorn Button and just pressed the 4 Button instead of the 3 Button like you meant to even though 3 PROBABLY would’ve Ruined Your Popcorn anyway

• You text Riddle to see if he’d wanna Share some Popcorn He said he would bring some Tarts he had just put in the oven So you waited...Thinking about Food...not noticing the disaster you were Setting into place

• Anyway you Open the Microwave Full of Hope like a Doe being born on a beautiful spring day then as soon as the black Popcorn started shooting out of your Microwave in Ramshackle you then had the same disappointment as a spring Doe who was just forced to watch Fox and the Hound Like Holy Heck that Movie gives me the Hecko Deppreso

• One Burning Kernel Hit your Cheek Just as you Wince Riddle Comes into your Kitchen With Wide eyes

• He Drags you out Picnic Basket with Tarts in Hand and Takes you to the Nurse’s Office and Asks for...whatever Burned people Need As He Patches you up you 2 Share a ~Moment~

“Riddle Honestly it’s not THAT big of a deal” You Chuckle Anxiously “Don’t be Ridiculous Y/N!” he keeps Patching you up “It Must Seriously Hurt..” He looks a little Sad and while looking sadly into your eyes he kisses your cheek where the Burn was you wince as He Quickly Spits an Apology you Chuckle “You can Kiss it better if you want~” he Looks away bright Red as you 2 Sit in the Nurse’s Office Sharing Tarts

Leona King Scholar

• “I can’t Hecking Cook!!!” you found yourself Exclaiming in the Savannaclaw Kitchen Ruffling your hair

• You see Poor F-Ing Ruggie Needs a Break that’s not a secret to anyone (# Please Stop Hyena Abuse # Please Edit A Garfield Comic Where Leona is Garfield and Ruggie is John) so you said you’d make Leona his Lunch

• why the Heck you said you’d do this you Adorable stupid Hecking Idiot you but hey you did dumb dumb

• So here you are looking in the Freezer and BINGO Big ole Meat Chunk!

• So you being A fanfic protagonist Put a giant mystery meat chunk in the microwave pressed some Buttons and said..”Eh Good enough” Guess your sex god heart throb Boyfriend Is rubbing off on you ok I see how it is Y/N OK I SEE HOW IT IS

• Anyway besides my needless aggression with my words You started to look for some utensils you found A Bento Box and a Spoon thank goodness but you figured you might Need some mittens Lunch was soon and The meat was long done but no mittens

• You take it out..and HOLY MOTHER GOD WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA YOUR PALMS MIGHT AS WELL BE ON FIRE

• Leona Nonchalantly Enters The scene cause Ruggie Told him you’d be making his Lunch and Lunch started like 15 Minutes ago

• He looks at the Scene before him and sighs and takes your hands like the sex god heartthrob he is and looks at your red palms almost Deadpanning

Your face a light red “Yeah...I know I massively Screwed up with your Lunch But I really wanted t-“ “I know And I appreciate it even though you are a massive screw up..But you keep trying I appreciate that about you” He starts to lick your Palms and your face Erupts into a Blush “What the Heck!?!” he looks up at you “It’s to cool your hands down but you ARE gonna go get me Food from the vending machine afterwards”

Azul Ashengrotto

• you slam your Hands Dramaticly on your Kitchen Table “I CANNOT ACCEPT ANYMORE FREEBIES FROM THE MONSTRO LOUNGE” You were sure Azul Would start making you pay if not Azul Jade for sure

• So time to start making Food for yourself!! You Quickly Head to a Convience store where a Certain Chaotic Neutral Eel Notices you Buying like 10 Frozen...PIECES OF FOOD

• You Dump like all off them on your Counter and Choose to make some Weird fish

• You Slap that Sorry Sucker in the Microwave and like the other Sorry Suckers in this Scenario you will Burn yourself and beautiful Bishounen Shenanigans will ensue but we’re not there yet

• You literally just bought a piece of not even normal looking fish Of course it didn’t come with a Time Recommendation So you while staring at it for like 10 minutes (Letting it thaw quite a bit but you didn’t notice) You threw it in for 7 And figured “eh 7’s a lucky number this’ll work” Didn’t you read Leona’s Scenario? What happened when THEY said Eh

• You Dumby You Dating a Merman Boughta Eat a fish Dumbo what do you have? Ears?

• Anyway Floyd and And Azul are Chatting well it’s more like Floyd is talking At Azul while he does paper work Yeah I totally Saw them Buying a bunch a Random Frozen Weird Massively Weird Right? Anyway So Apparently They Let you Mix ALL THE slushie is Flavors”

• Azul hearing this After finishing up some more Paperwork Decides to go Visit You and to his Shock he finds you Trying to hold a Basically at this point Charcoal Fish and when you drop It on your leg Leaving a SEXY weird fish shaped burn he’s Immediately on that

He puts a Hand to his Temple and sighs For a Moment before sweeping you off your feet before you could say a word..the you did say a word a few in fact “I’m Sorry Azul I know you can’t give me freebies forever but I’m a terrible cook” He Kisses your forehead and gives you a reassuring look “You’re my Beloved you can rely on me as much as you want I’ll get you some bandages when we’re back at the monstro lounge and Jade will make you something not made of Charcoal” and you bet he carried you all the way

Kalim Al Asim

• you both wanted to cook Something for Jamil...Okay this’ll go south fast.

• the road to Heck Is often Paved with Good intentions

• You Were tasked with picking out food and Kalim for Kitchen Prep

• Anyway Let’s get this poor Wreck Jamil’s gonna have to fix over with

• “I Picked out some Tofu! Smart people like tofu right?

• Kalim Tossed that And all sortsa Stuff Into the Microwave and Waved off all your concerns figuring it’ll be fine! come on Y/N you coward Your a fanfic Protag you don’t have to think Silly goose no thoughts head empty

• like 15 minutes later you 2 Hear Smoke while trying to make Pulpless Handsqueezed Orange Juice cause HECK PULP

• He Opened The Microwave and the only thing that Looked even Remotely salvageable was the tofu and because you 2 are the cutest most head empty Couple Apparently you didn’t Put a plate underneath so you braving all the danger reached into the Microwave...

“Ouch!” You teared up a little And were about to Put your finger in your mouth as you do Before Kalim put your finger in his Mouth You looked at him shell shocked after a couple seconds he started pressing light kisses on them “I’m so sorry! I should’ve thought this through more! I’ll nurse you back to health!” And For the rest of the day he essentially treated you like you were crippled he carried you he fed you everything don’t worry you slipped away for a little to clean up the mess in the kitchen before Jamil got back Kalim Babysitting is always an Experience to be Had for sure

Vil Schoenheit

• “Vil! I wanna Eat Carbs Heck you!!”

• if that’s not how Every story I do With Vil Starts I’ll be Gosh Danged

• “FINE EAT YOUR MAC AND CHEESE YOU’LL RUE THE DAY-“

• anyway after you stopped listening to him you looked him DEAD in the eyes and Shoved that frozen Mac and Cheese in the Microwave and slammed...Some Numbers In wow what a power move

• He Gasped and Power walked away

• You Laughing Manically Triumphantly

• But after awhile you felt kinda bad and decided to make some Carb free food for Vil as an Apology for Deliberatly and spitefully trying to make him Mad

• But that was the final nail in your microwaved coffin When you took out your Luckily not entirely burned Mac and Cheesies it was real hot like

• You were trying To get it to a plate Quickly And Spilled some on your Wrist Luckily Your Sexy mean Boyfriend was Here To save the day and wow he’s holding something”

“Sweet Potato?” He peeked through the Door and saw you Holding your Wrists in Pain he immediately walked in And Held them tenderly “I’m Sorry Sweet Potato things got heated I did get you a..Low Carb Meal at Olive Garden I Hope this Makes things up to you I know I can’t Control your life it’s just kinda my nature” You Smiled at him through the pain “It’s Fine Vil I got WAY too Mad I’m sorry I made you a salad” you both Enjoyed your food him feeding you yours then later he put some lotion on your Wrists

YES ITS BEST BOY-

Idia Shroud

• Omg it’s the best boy 🥺

• I mean I am not Partial to any character Do not worry I do not want to be in a Poly relationship with both Malleus and Idia

• So you wanted To Hang Out with your Boyfriend today he said sure but that he would be Busy doing raids with his Online friends you agreed and even said you’d bring snacks which you did

• Including Instant Ramen! My-I mean YOUR favorite

• you decided to show how reliable in the Kitchen you are to your boyfriend by making such a Delicacy for him while he doesn’t have the time to himself at the moment

• This is will work out Well

• You decide to do it in your kitchen and bring to him

• this will work out well

• You..ACTUALLY MAKE IT PERFECTLY

• You also Make it mostly towards his room before divine intervention Intervines and says That’s not the point of this fanfic idiot

• It probably mostly worked out for you cause you have the best taste tho so-

• Ortho Hears a Mighty Loud Catwerwhail (here’s hoping I spelled that right) and Comes to check whose outside the door

• “Big Sister/Brother?” He Quickly Runs some Water on your Shoulder and Bandages you Up And Leads you in Idia’s Room With the snacks in tow meanwhile he’s wondering if your Ok or not

“Idia Senpai!” You Sit next to him And he notices your Bandages “What Happened?” You look away a little Blushing a bit “I Spilled hot Instant Ramen on my shoulder Ortho parched me up though but! I brought the rest of the snacks though sor-“ Before you can apologize he Puts his Jacket on your shoulders “No I’m sorry for not noticing I would’ve...Tried to help” His sad expression turns into one of his Competitve smirks “I’ll Finish this Raid Boss so Quicker then you even Burned Yourself!” And He did cause he’s the best Gamer boy then you played Monoply With Him and Ortho cause he’s the best boy you have the best taste RAMEN TASTES SO GOOD-

Malleus Draconia

• My Second Love I mean nothing Let’s finish this I’ve been here since like 4 it’s 7 rn

• You invited Malleus to dinner And you wanted a Good Blanced Dinner!

• Chicken From Panda Express

• McDonald’s Chocolate Milk

• Some Patties from Burger King

• Oh Yeah Veggies!

• Wait! Everything’s Closed now!!! Y/N I KEPT TELLING YOU TO STOP BEING DUM-

• Oh you have some frozen Vegetables? Okay Touché

• You Toss them in the Microwave for 6 Minutes and get ready

• You dress as Nicely as Possible in 10 Minutes cause you plan Things Horribly apparently...not that I relete having been here for like at least 2 hours

• He’s Here~ him being Also the best boy is already setting the table with Magic cause he’s just nice like that and even Enchanted the food to be set on the table and the milk in the Glasses

• But you INSISTED to present The Vegetables

• “Child of Man I really don’t min-“ “No! I got this really!!”

• Let’s see how well that turned out for you

You got the Vegetables Outta the Microwave in such a Haste you didn’t even notice how hot it was and dumped it on the plate it wasn’t horribly burnt but was Horribly Hot Malleus was Amazed though “So Man’s Growing Vegetables in Bags now?..” he Reached to touch but you smacked his hand away so fast your hand touched the food and burned you “Ouch! I’m sorry Mal But it’s really hot” He immediately Understood and Summoned some Magical Water as he do and your burn was gone “I love you Child of man even though us Fae Can’t burn you tried to shield me anyway my sweet gentle Child of man”...Did you know that I ain’t know that?

I have a Masterlist it has all my X reader fics And my Oc Stuff I will be Adding this in like a day or 2 probably now if you’ll excuse me I never Wanna Look at another word again except also I’m literally probably gonna go read fanfic

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland dorm #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst dorm leaders #dorm leaders x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland dorm leaders

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hockey-fics · 4 years ago

Note

I didn't know you already had a request with number 47! so maybe number 13 from the angsty prompt list with petey? please?

Thank you for the request!

Prompt: “You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it” with Elias Pettersson

Warning: insinuations of sex

Word Count: ~3,400

Moving to Vancouver was a big step for you. But the job was too good to turn down and the apartment you found was a little too perfect and all the pieces just fell into place too easily to not do it.

The transition was difficult though. Your workplace was smaller than you expected and almost everyone who worked there was much older than you. Meeting people in the new city was hard. It was cold and rained all the time and you found navigating the larger city difficult, getting lost more time than you would care to admit.

But then you met him.

Elias.

He had stepped through the apartment lobby doors, hesitating when he saw you struggling to drag a box that contained the pieces of a desk you had ordered online. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The desk would fit perfectly against the window in the den of your apartment, it was absolutely beautiful, and it was on sale. But now that you alternating between bouts of yanking or shoving it across the all too big lobby you were beginning to wish you hadn’t made that purchase.

“Do you want some help?” Elias had asked.

You had looked up at him, immediately caught off guard. His voice was soft, an accent that you couldn’t immediately place. He was tall and handsome with intriguing blue eyes and a reassuring smile.

“I-,” you started, standing up straighter and glancing down at the box. You hated asking for help, even when someone was offering. Hated it even more when it was a stranger. But at the rate you were going that desk wasn’t even going to get into your apartment for a sizeable amount of time.

Before you even have a chance to deny the help he was offering he had stepped closer, silently letting you know that it was okay for you to say yes.

“Thank you,” you breathed out in relief as he leaned down to pick up the opposite end of the box. Together the two of you navigated the box into the elevator and up to your apartment.

Elias had helped you bring the box into your apartment. You introduced yourself to him before he left and when you mentioned that you were new to the city Elias had given you his number, told you to call him if you needed anything at all.

And for awhile you didn’t contact him. Not because you didn’t want to. Truth be told you would have loved to have called him because the city still felt so lonely and he truly seemed like such a nice guy. But every time you contemplated it the idea was outweighed by worry that you would be annoying him.

But then a few weeks later you were having a truly catastrophic day. Like always you left for the skytrain, because it was just as quick as driving and you didn’t have to pay for parking at work. But you ended up being late, missing your train and being a few minutes late to work. Where you were immediately berated by your manager despite your apologies. And you tried to put that behind you but throughout the rest of the day you were slightly frazzled and nothing seemed to be going smoothly. By the time the work day ended it had started pouring, typical Vancouver rain that could be heard pounding off the roof of the building. Dumping the contents of your purse onto your desk before leaving you realize you had forgotten your umbrella at home. So you packed up your stuff and prepared yourself for the miserable walk to the skytrain station. By the time your commute was over and you had hustled back to your apartment you were freezing cold and soaking wet. And as if the day couldn’t get worse as you rifled through your purse you realized your keys were missing, mind flashing back to dumping your purse contents onto your desk at work.

Groaning you stare at the locked lobby door of the apartment building. A few minutes of contemplating your options you pull your phone out, dialling Elias’ number.

“Hi,” Elias answers after a couple rings. “How’s it going?”

“Could be better,” you admit, huddled under the awning outside the lobby door to protect yourself from the rain. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

“Can you let me in?” You ask, not knowing what you would do from there, the key to your actual apartment missing as well. “I think I forgot my keys at work.”

“Of course. I’ll be down in a minute,” Elias assures you.

And true to his word he was opening the door a few minutes later, letting you into the warm lobby. Droplets of water drip off your jacket and onto the doormat as you wipe a combination of rainwater and tears from your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying till the situation had calmed down a bit, till you were away from the loud stormy weather.

“Are you okay? You look cold. Do you have the keys to your apartment?”

Shaking your head you wrap your arms around your body. “No, I’ll have to call a locksmith or something, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can wait in my apartment if you want,” Elias offers, stepping towards the elevator as you trail behind him, feeling cold, miserable, and deflated.

You step into Elias’ apartment behind him you stand on the doormat, careful not to get water on the hardwood floor. But you’re not sure how to handle the situation so you stand in one spot, watching Elias kick his shoes off and step into the apartment.

“You can come in,” Elias tells you, smiling gently. “I can get you some clothes, if you want to shower and warm up you can do that too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” you tell him, pulling your jacket off and hanging it up over one of the hooks by the door, pushing your shoes off.

“I’m not doing much,” Elias comments, nodding towards the hallway. Following after him Elias points out the bathroom, leaving you alone for a moment and returning with an armful of clothes. “Towels are in the cupboard there,” he tells you, gesturing towards the cupboard by the door. “I’ll be out in the kitchen, take your time.”

Something about how kind he was, how considerate he was left you feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t need to be this nice to you, you had never met anyone who was so kind so soon after meeting. After standing under the hot water in the shower while the chill dissipated from your bones, you get out and dry off, pulling on the large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that you had to fold over at the waist a number of times to be able to stay up.

Folding up your wet clothes you shuffle out of the bathroom, finding Elias in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the stove, cooking dinner with his phone pressed to his ear.

“An hour?” You hear Elias say into the phone. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He hangs up his phone, setting it down on the counter and glancing over at you. “Hey, I called the building manager, he said they have emergency access keys to all the apartments. If you have ID he’ll be able to let you into your apartment but he won’t be here for an hour. I was making dinner though, do you want some?”

You stare over at Elias in surprise, eyes welling with tears. “I…you didn’t have to deal with this for me, you’ve already helped me more than you need to.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he assures you, grabbing a couple plates from the cupboard. “I moved here not that long ago, I had all the guys on the team for support though. I can’t imagine not knowing anyone.”

“Team?” You ask, sliding onto one of the barstools at his bar counter.

“I play hockey, for the Canucks,” he explains, setting a plate of food in front of you before sitting down beside you with his own food.

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing,” you tell him in surprise. Because truthfully you didn’t know much about him aside from his generosity towards you. And so you spent the rest of the hour getting to know each other till he came with you to meet the building manager, making sure you got back into your apartment before saying goodnight.

And after that night you two began spending more and more time together till you were practically inseparable. He introduced you to some of his teammates and some of their wives and girlfriends.

You would spend evenings curled up on his couch watching movies. Eventually sharing the couch turned to cuddling turned to falling asleep with your head on his chest. You would go grocery shopping together, while it made sense with both of you living in the same building, the truth was that you both just wanted to spend as much time together as possible. You would go for early morning walks, discussing all sorts of deep thoughts. Going for coffee or dinner together became a common occurrence.

And you fell for Elias. Hard. But you were uncertain about his feelings. He had always been the friendly guy who lived on the floor below you. He never tried to flirt. When you cuddled on the couch his hands never wandered. You never caught him checking you out or staring just a little too long.

It was a Saturday night eight months after you first started hanging out with Elias and Elias had invited you over to Brock and Troy’s place along with a few other people. You were reluctant at first, telling him you didn’t want to intrude. But Elias was persistent and you found yourself sitting beside him on their couch a few hours later. The night had gone by as expected, they discussed stuff about hockey that you didn’t fully understand, you got to hear about their personal lives, girlfriends and family issues. You were glad Elias had invited you, happy to get to be more involved in his life than you already were.

“I’m going to the washroom,” you tell Elias a few hours after you had gotten there.

“Okay,” he mutters and you don’t notice the way he watches you stand up, the way he watches you walk out of the room. But Brock does and he can’t just not say anything.

“You’ve got it bad for her,” Brock chuckles, shaking his head.

“What?” Elias asks, only half-aware of what Brock was talking about as he turns his attention to him.

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Brock asks.

“How I feel?”

Brock shakes his head again, sighing loudly. “Don’t pretend you don’t have feelings for her, man.”

“We’re just friends,” Elias defends, adjusting uncomfortably on the couch as he glances around the room, looking for any distractions.

As you wander back from the bathroom you pause outside the living room entryway, frozen with the words you hear Brock say. “You’re in love with her, we all see it.”

“She just needs a friend right now,” Elias reiterates.

“Just needs a friend? But you don’t want to be just a friend?”

“Just drop it, okay?” Elias snaps, unusually out of character for him.

A few moments later you step into the room, trying your best to act like you hadn’t just heard everything you heard. Was Brock right? Elias hadn’t denied it. But that didn’t mean he was right either. No matter how hard you tried to remain unfazed by the comments you had overheard you simply couldn’t, catching yourself staring at Elias just a little too often and for a little too long.

By the time you leave that night you can’t manage to keep your heart rate steady or your breathing even. Elias parks his car and you climb out, an uncomfortable silence filling the air around you two and you begin to wonder if he knows something is up. Stepping into the elevator you can’t handle the tension anymore but you’re not sure how to deal with it either. So you let your body take control, stepping in front of Elias, one hand on the back of his neck as you lean closer to him. “Kiss me,” you whisper in the silence of the elevator.

“What?” Elias asks in shock, but he’s grabbing at your waist already, pulling you closer. And he doesn’t wait for you to say anything else before he’s kissing you, surprisingly fast and eager. When the doors of the elevator slide open you grab Elias’ hand, pulling him out onto your floor with you. There’s a nervous excitement as you both walk to your apartment. You barely have the door closed before Elias has his hands on your hips, pulling your back into him as he leans down, pressing his lips to your jaw, reaching up to brush your hair away as he moves his lips down to your neck.

Gasping softly you push your body back into his, hand curling around Elias’ wrist. “Please,” you whimper, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder. You hadn’t so much as kissed a guy since moving to Vancouver. And maybe it was because you were too busy to worry about going out with guys, but maybe it was because there was only one guy you were interested in and he just happened to be right there behind you.

“Are you sure about this?” Elias asks, turning you around in his arms as he holds you by your waist.

“Yes,” you whisper, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him along with you into your bedroom.

Waking up the next morning you roll over, finding the bed empty beside you. The way your heart sank was a feeling you had never felt before. You had slept with guys before and it meant nothing, had woken up the next morning alone or snuck out during the night. But this felt different. Because you really thought it meant something. But clearly you were wrong.

Slowly you pull yourself out of bed, yanking on an oversized t-shirt and shuffling to the kitchen to make coffee. Because you needed to do something, anything, to keep your mind off the fact that you had slept with your one of your best friends and he left before you were even awake. Left without saying a single thing. And with each passing hour of the day where you hadn’t heard anything from Elias the worse you felt.

Sure, you knew there was the chance that he really wasn’t in love with you. But when he kissed you back in the elevator you thought it had to have meant something. The last thing you would have expected was for him to just leave like that.

‘Movie night?’

The text came early in the afternoon and normally you would have replied within seconds of seeing it. But today was so different, hesitation as your thumbs hovered over the keyboard on your phone.

‘Sure. Your place or mine?’ You finally send. You couldn’t say no to Elias, no matter how hurt you were from earlier.

‘Mine? 7 work?’

‘Sure’ you reply vaguely. Your conversations were never like this. You always said more, talked about what the other was doing, made jokes. You can’t remember a single one word text you had ever sent him, it always needed at the very least a smiley face.

That evening you head up to Elias’ apartment, knocking on the door and staring down at the ground anxiously. Elias pulls the door open a minute later, stepping aside to let you walk inside. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Elias replies, closing the door behind you before pulling you into a hug. It’s warm and comforting and you want to stay there with him forever. But you know you can’t, not after the night before. Slowly pulling back you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to bring up what happened. “Do you want to order takeout or should we find something to make here?” Elias asks.

You’re caught off guard by him brushing past everything that happened, not acknowledging the fact that less than 24 hours before you were moaning his name. “Uh,” you hum, prepared to talk about the implications of hooking up but not about dinner plans. “Takeout.”

Elias nods, pulling his phone out and opening DoorDash. “What do you want?”

“For you to stop ignoring what happened last night,” you blurt out, staring up at Elias with watery eyes.

Elias lowers his phone staring at you in silence for a moment. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What?” You croak, shaking your head. “What do you mean? What do I want to talk about? The fact that we slept together last night. That you left before I was even awake the next morning. Any of that ring a bell?”

“What do you want me to say about it?”

You feel your chest tightening, throat aching with the threat of tears you were so desperately trying to hold back. “You know, you did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“What do you mean?” Elias asks, eyes softening as he steps closer, arms moving towards you before you step back.

“I heard what Brock said, about you being in love with me,” you explain. “That’s why…that’s why I slept with you last night, Elias. Because I’m in love with you and I thought maybe, just maybe he was right. Or at the very least you would have the decency to not just fuck me if it didn’t mean anything.” Wiping at the tears streaming down your face you whirl around towards the door, trying to escape before you broke down any further.

But Elias is grasping for your hand before you can get to the door, pulling you into his chest. “He’s right,” Elias whispers. “I am in love with you.”

“So why are you acting like such an asshole then?”

Elias pulls back, reaching over to wipe the tears off your cheeks. “Because I was scared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought…I thought you just wanted a, uh, like, friends with benefits. But I know I can’t do that with you so I thought just going back to normal was the only option.”

You let out a shocked breath of laughter, clutching tight to Elias as if he might try to distance himself again if you let up even just a little. “You thought all of a sudden I would try to just turn this into a friends with benefit agreement? After all this time?”

“I didn’t think you could have feelings for me,” Elias mumbles into your hair, holding onto you with just as much intensity. “I mean, look at you. You’re perfect. And I can’t give you everything you deserve, I’m not even here all the time, so…”

“What are you talking about you?” You ask, interrupting Elias’ ramble with a quiet, surprised laugh, your hands moving to the back of his neck as you stare up into his eyes. “You already give me more than I deserve. You’re the person I call when I need anything. You come down to my apartment at two in the morning to kill spiders for me. You pick me up when I have to work late and it’s dark and you don’t want me taking the skytrain at night. You helped me repaint my kitchen on one of the very few days you actually have off. And you don’t have to do any of those things so when you’re not here to do them it’s okay, because it’s already more than I need. You’re more than I need, Elias, and I hate that you would think you aren’t.”

“I love you,” he whispers, saying it like it was a weight off his shoulders. “I love you so much,” he repeats, a smile growing on his face.

“Should I spend the night here tonight? Or do you want me to sneak out after you fall asleep?” You joke, pressing your lips to his.

Elias smiles against your lips, pulling back and shaking his head, clearly still feeling guilty. “Don’t leave…you don’t ever need to leave."

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson blurb #elias pettersson fic #nhl blurb #nhl oneshot #nhl fic #hockey blurb #hockey fic #hockey imagines

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand.

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener

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tomdiddlyumptious · 4 years ago

Note

Tom Holland x black reader getting caught fucking in his childhood bed and his parents making reader and Tom talk about it in a family meeting 💀💀

Oop-

Summary: que?

Warnings: smut and an awkward situation. Cringy smut of course, yelling ar new borns- LaNgUaGe

T.H| I’m Sorry You Said What?

You and tom rode in the car, bumping to something random on the radio as you both made your way back to his old home. Youve been there before but it was nice to come back after a while.

“Y/n?” “What?” You asked looking at him. “I love you” “ewwwww” you stuck out your tongue, he rolled his eyes and smacked his lips while you giggled.

“Im sorryyyyyy” “no your rude” tom shook his head unbuckling himself. “It was a simple joke! Its not my fault you couldnt take it!” He glared at you “you suck” “you swallow” “you choke” “i- i do” you admit making him laugh “ i wont lie” you shrugged and hopped out the car, closing the door behind you.

You both walked to the door and he held on your waist pressing a kiss to your forehead. He knocked and was met immediately with his father with a bib on. “Whats the bib for?” “Im trying to online teach kids how to eat neatly” “they must be newborns for that-“ you bud in.

“Exactly- its to mad in there” “they dont even know theyre moving how do you expect them to know how to raise a fork” nikki asked making you all laugh as dom shrugged but opened the door more inviting you both in. Tom stepped in after you both and you shared hugs before he pulled you into his room. “Thomas is this your room?” “Yes” “why is there a one direction poster?” “I love Niall Horan” he shrugged and shut the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed at him in confusion “I would take you as more of a zayn fan” “well there goes something new, and I know about your obsession with Harry styles already, do NOT rub it in” he demanded making you giggle, you took off your shoes and laid in his bed, which was comfy, not firm like yours used to be, but as long as you had a roof over your head everything was goddamn fine🙄.

Thomas decided to lay down next to you and you still looked around “I’m supprised you don’t have twilight in here” you giggled “shut up” he chuckled and laid his head in your breast, you played with his hair and tugged it a bit making him let out a small groan “Thomas don’t-“ “you tugged my hair!” “This is your childhood room for heaven sakes” “let’s make more memories then!” He suggested. “You get on my nerves’ you smacked your lips as he reached up to kiss your neck and slowly make his way to your sweet spot. “I want youuuu” he sung.

“But I dontttt” “yes you doooo” “okay maybeeee” “I’m gonna take off your clothessss” “go aheadddd”you moaned a little bit from his nibble on your sweet spot as he trailed his hands down your stomach giving you goosebumps. Your turned your head to meet his lips, “did I ever tell you how amazing you look today?” “No”

“Well-“ he cut himself off, you just love to ruin the mood all the time. “Ay don’t blame me if anything you did because were in your childhood bed right now” “I’m gonna fuck you and that’ll make you be quiet, won’t it?” You just sighed at his words, but letting the blood flow south.

“Actually it won’t, I’d make you scream and let everyone hear- (this is your family for heaven sakes😭)” he mumbled, playing with the hem of your underwear and you let out a low moan. “Yeah i know youd like that, naughty girl (😭😭 i cant)”

He gently rubbed your pearl over your paintes while you unbuckled his pants, palming him through his jeans feeling his hard. He let out a groan and pressed harder on your clit making you whine and buck your hips onto his hands.

“AH” you both jumped and looked at the door seeing it was still shut you sighed in relief. “NO NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP THE FORK DOESNT GO ALL THE WAY DOWN YOUR THROAT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW- IM TELLING YOUR MOM- WHAT WHAT- DONT CRY PLEASE STOP ILL GET IN SO MUCH TROUBLE”

Tom groaned by the buzzkill of his father, but let out laughs in your neck. “Just make it quick tom” you whispered against his forehead kissing it, he nodded and got up, walking to the door and you stood to, taking off your pants while he made sure it was locked, when he looked back he saw you struggling and tripping over your shoes making him chucke before walking over and making yiu stand straight, right before pinning you to the wall.

He took your hands and yanked them over your head making you clench your legs together. “Open up” he demaned softly, putting his knee in between your legs and opening them before looking at you. “Your so beautiful baby girl” he kissed you, biting your lip. “Dont move your hands? Hear me?”

“But it will start to hurt” you pleaded but he only tsked at you and told you to follow his orders before pulling down his pants and boxers a bit to pull himself out, you both still had clothes on, well you didnt have your jeans on (which is so fuckin unfair) and your shoes but he kept his on.

He took his hands and pressed his chest against your to keep you in place before he lifted your legs around his hips and used a single hand to pull your panties to the side. He spit in the tip of his fingers before runnjng them through your folds “oh- your already soaked” he said before coning cocky “i didnt even do anything yet” “please fuck me already” you begged and he smiled, watching as he slipped himself in, a moan leaving both of your lips.

He started to fill himself in you while you struggled to keep your hands in place. He groaned pumping in you, fucking you against the wall, he hooked his hands under your knees and pushed them closer to the walls to open you up. “Fuck tommy” you gasped, your head leaning back against the wall and he took the chance to lick and suck on your sweet spot, to hot in the moment to remember where he is.

“Fuck y/n your so tight- shit-“ he felt you clench, he started to harder but slow, the sound bouncing off the wall as you swallowed your moans. “Shit- tommy” your back arched off the wall, your arms to tired and heavy so they went around his shoulders and your head in his neck. “You tired baby?“

“UMMMMM” nikki said, both of your heads whipping around. “MOM-“ she slammed the door closed before anything else could happen.

“Dinner is in 15 minutes- uhhhh dont be late. Make sure to clean up” she said leaning up against the door “and please dont ya know-“ she nervously chuckled “finish” “IT WASNT LIKE THAT I SWEAR”

“Thomas it’s obvious” you glared at him, when he pulled out of you a sigh left your lips. “I swear i locked the door” he said putting himself back, watching you as you got yourself together. “Does it really matter now?” He only shrugged in response.

Toms cheeks were scarlet while you tried to get yourself to stop shaking so much. “It cant be that bad, right?” You held onto his arm for strength. “I mean it should all be fine cuz like- they did it to have me!” “Yeahyeahyeah” you nodded, kinda getting confident. “Lets just go” you pulled his arm to the dinning room, meeting a pair of 2 eyes starring at you both.

You all just sat there in silence, all of your movements halt as you made eye contact with nikki and tom made eye contact with his dad. “Dont be shy now, its only dinner” nikki said, placing the plates infront of the seat.

You looked at tom and he did a small nod walking right behind you to sit in the seats right next to each other.

“If you couldnt already tell we are having- erm spaghetti” she smiled trying to ease the tension but it was to thick.

After everyone took a couple bites you sipped the water. “Would you care to explain what happened-“ you choked on the water at doms words, the water shooting out of your nose while everyone looked at you. “I drank it to fast- haha” you faked a laugh, cleaning yourself up with the napkin.

“I didnt know you could do that....” tom said before looking at his dad. “We uhhh had ya know” tom looked away, feeling his ears start to burn up. “Ya know???” Nikki comments.

“You knowwwww like uhmmm” “clearly child” dom said glarring at him. “Who had the idea?” “I think we both know who”

You lifted your arms up in defense “it wasnt me” tom smaced his lips at you and you looked at him shrugging “it wasnt!” “You told me to make it quick!-“

“THOMAS” “whaaaat?! Its true!” “You still started it!”

Nikki and don watched the fued between as you to continued to complain and fight. “You were clearly being to loud thats why we got caught!-“

“Actually i heard thuds against the wall soooo” nikki spaced off as you glarred at him. “Who was making to much noise?” You lifted an eyebrow before he rolled his eyes and turned his chair a bit to not look at you.

“Did you use protection?” Dom asked. “Uhhh no” tom said. “Why not?” Nikki butted in. He only shrugged. “You need to use protection” “no we dont”

Nikki tapped behind her ear “what did you say?” “We will use protection” tom changed his mind. “Aha and how did you get that mark on your neck” nikki turned to you.

“I-uh burned my neck with the curling iron!” “Your hair isnt in curls” you bit your lip at her words “yeah welp i gave up after and dumped my hair in water” dom tried to read toms face and body language “it looks like a bruise, how high was the temperature?” Nikki asked, slightly concerned. “I have no idea”

“Just- why here?” Tom starred at nikki “i dont know i was just caught in the moment~” “dont you only say that when your a virgin doing it-“ “y/n we are supposed to be a team!” “Im just saying!”

“Before you both argue again.....” nikki said stopping the pot from boiling. “I just want to say that i hope your both happy and no longer sexually aroused”

“Nikki!” “What?! I have to say that Dominic!” “No you didnt, but if you dont mind i have to be leaving now, i have to teach the babies how to read” dom stood and took his plate to the kitchen, soon everyone done with their meal as you sat in silence washing dishes with nikki.

“Are you planning on making me a grandma?” She whispered, handing you the wet dish. “No not really” you sighef, drying the dish. “That sucks” “yep”

“But like why not!” “Toms busy with work and all do i dont want him to feel to responsible” “i have to agree on that one, barely wants to wipe his ass” “nikki!” You whisper yelled as she giggled, passing you anothet plate as you put the old one back.

“I know how it feels- dom cant keep his hands off of me” she winked as your eyes widened at her. “What! Im old not dead y/n” “you are not old nikki and plus i dont wanna know that!” “Hey im just letting you know” she shrugged.

“Dad she isnt pregnant and wont be anytime soon” “just bring me the babies! I will teach them how to cook, clean, eat-“ “thats our job dad”

“Well its better then these babies- WHO WONT STOP CHEWING ON THE BOOK-“

“WAAAAAAA”

“OH GOD PLEASE STOP CRYINGGG BLOODY HELL” dom said, snatching the ipad. “But please dont have sex in my house, thomas” dom glared at him while tom aggressively nodded his head.

“S-seth”

“THATS A NO NO WORD- STOP SAYING THAT” dom yelled again, stressing himself out. “WHY ARE YOU EVEN DOING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE?” Nikki yelled from the kitchen, walking infront of you into the livingroom.

“BECAUSE THESE BABIES ARE GONNA BE VERY SMART- IF THEY COULD FECKING LISTON (i did that on purpose)”

“f-fe-“

“Dont you even” he pointed at the new born through the ipad.

“Seth!”

“DOMINIC!”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland au

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

The Zoom Halloween Party

⇢ and beyond timeline (after crystallised)

[saga index] [drabble index]

kim seokjin x reader // slice of life, humour // 2,556 words

a/n; thank you to all the anons who gave me ideas for this halloween drabble, it wouldn’t exist without you!

“I have to say your costumes are pretty lame this year, you guys.”

“We’re having a Halloween party over fucking zoom, forgive us for not going all out.”

Seokjin bit straight away, unable to help it. He and Namjoon were like cat and mouse at all times, but even you had to admit to being offended by your friend’s dismissal.

Halloween was finally here, and while you couldn’t celebrate in person together, the marvels of technology were letting you celebrate virtually – although this was more like a Halloween hang out than a Halloween party.

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon shrugged. “Hoseok went all out for his.”

You looked over at Hoseok’s screen, watching him smile smugly. You had to admit he made a great Joker, but it was also the year 2020... He and his girlfriend, Nora were like two years behind with the whole Joker and Harley Quinn gimmick, it was old now.

Seokjin rolled his eyes, willing to argue black and blue. “It’s only good because his mom helped him with the makeup.”

“Oh shut up, you’re just jealous because me and Hoseok will win best dressed tonight!” Nora scoffed under Hoseok in her own little screen.

Pouting like a baby, your boyfriend crossed his arms. “I’m not voting for you.”

“If anything, I should win. I make a mighty fine Batman.”

Attention back on Namjoon now, you all had to agree. But maybe that was because everyone was feeling sorry for him tonight. He was after all, the only single one amongst you. There was Jin and you, Lina and Jimin, Hoseok and Nora, and even though Sandeul was on his own tonight, he had Jess, who was working the night shift tonight. Two months ago there had also been Namjoon and Hana, but not anymore... Let’s just say Namjoon wasn’t having the best of time lately... Getting dumped during a pandemic wasn’t ideal. So he’d paired with Hobi and Nora tonight in some sort of DC-esque collab. He was definitely winning best dressed tonight, but maybe he’d see it as a pity vote…

“You’re body looks amazing in that suit, Joon,” you complimented, hearing Lina hum in supportive agreement.

“Hey!” Seokjin exclaimed, sounding mighty offended as he looked your way. You were smushed together on the couch, the takeout you’d ordered on your laps, but you were pretty full now, a belly full of wine already.

“The devil and an angel though.” Jimin’s voice sounded awfully judgemental. “Come on guys, so basic.”

“Well, who the hell did you to come as?” Seokjin was loud.

“Zombie Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly,” Lina replied as if your boyfriend was dumb.

“Lame,” Seokjin scoffed. “Half of these guys haven’t even watched The Office.”

“It’s a way more original idea than yours.”

You scoffed. “Um, this is the epitome of everyone’s sexual fantasy, I’ll have you know.”

“Whose?!” Lina roared, wrinkling her nose. She and Jimin were also squished together, but on his bed, the camera angle giving you an amazing shot of their chins... Not that you would tell your best friend that, of course.

“We all know what they’re doing after this then,” Sanduel stated. He was dressed as some character from a game he and Seokjin played (a lot.) Nerds.

“Stop,” Hoseok whined. “Does that mean you guys fucked as The Addams family couple last year?”

“Of course it does,” Namjoon replied matter-of-factly.

“Jesus.”

Ah yes, you two really had out done yourselves last year for Namjoon and Hoseok’s joint Halloween party. Thinking about it maybe your devil and angel costumes were quite lame this year…

“As if you didn’t guess,” Lina laughed. “They were reciting all those weird lines practically dry humping in the kitchen at one point.”

That was your cue, slamming into action, although as luck would have it you had re-watched The Addams Family two nights ago. You gripped Seokjin’s face, yanking him to look at you. “Seokjin, last night you were unhinged.” You began dramatically. “You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me.” A pause for effect. “Do it again!”

Seokjin took your hand, in character immediately. He leaned down to kiss your knuckles. “Cara mia.”

You opened your mouth, ready to purr out mon cher in your best French accent but you were interrupted by Namjoon’s gagging noises. “That’s it, I’m leaving.”

Seokjin snapped his head around, unamused. “Bye.”

Everyone laughed… just before Hoseok sighed. “Aw, this makes me so depressed. I miss last year, when things were simpler.”

“This was the worst year to officially become an adult.” Nora joined in with a whine.

They were 100% correct. There couldn’t have been a worse year to graduate… The past few months had been so stressful but thankfully you were now in a much more stable place. Granted, you hadn’t been able to start the post-graduate internship you’d bagged right before the pandemic hit yet but eventually it would happen, and in the meantime you still had your retail job – and your savings.

Seokjin had truly lucked out, although his job at his father’s company had been set in stone since high school. He was working remotely until the end of the year (hopefully), rocking that business on top, casual down bottom fashion that he was so gleefully fond of – think a dress shirt and sweatpants ensemble – but you were so incredibly proud of him for adjusting so well after this shitfest of a year. He was your sexy, serious businessman.

Your friends hadn’t been as lucky though – well, mainly Hoseok and Namjoon who had recently moved back home with their parents while they job hunted. (That’s why the former and Nora were on separate screens – she still lived close by for work.) Lina hated her new job and Jimin still had a year left at college, so maybe he was better off at the moment... Sanduel and Jess were okay too, and had recently moved in with one another, leaving you and Seokjin to… follow suit…

It came as a surprise to you both, but it made more sense than the two of you living alone. You’d already grown used to it during those couple of months of lockdown at the start of the year and it felt weird after he’d left... It was a big step, but an easy one once you’d found the most perfect apartment to rent together. (You couldn’t officially live with one another in that shoebox of an old apartment, but it had been sad to leave it – you’d shared so many good times there.) It had only been about six weeks since you’d become official roomies, but you were loving every second of domestic bliss. Despite this crazy year, things were on the up, and you were very happy.

“Now we’re freshly graduated bums.” Namjoon moaned, knocking back the last of his beer.

Seokjin laughed. “Speak for yourself.”

“We can’t all have a CEO for a dad,” Namjoon shot.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

You pushed at your boyfriend’s shoulder, silently telling him to behave. Where was the sympathy for his heartbroken friend?

“At least you’re not stuck doing online classes.” Jimin piped up.

“I’d actually kill to be back there,” Namjoon chuckled. “I’m sick of receiving rejection emails.”

“Don’t give up hope, bro.” Hoseok told him. “I have an interview next week so fingers crossed.”

Nora squealed. “I hope you get it, babe. You need to get your ass back here. I miss you.”

You all missed him. And Namjoon. Even if you couldn’t all hang out like you were once able to, it was strange to think they were both living in different cities now. Last year seemed like an eternity ago, all you had were memories and even then they were murky.

“Guys, please,” Namjoon wailed, forehead hitting the screen as he threw forward dramatically. “One of us is single here.”

“Sorry.”

In fact, you all felt the need to apologise, a string of them following for no real reason other than you felt really bad for the guy. You knew he’d find a job soon, that wasn’t the problem really – whatever the company they’d be a fool to turn him down – you were just concerned about his mood. Getting dumped had come out of the blue so he was still adjusting, all while his life turned upside down in other ways too.

He hadn’t lost all sense of humour though, his trademark smirk growing across his face a few moments later. “So who will end up fucking on camera first?”

Amongst the groans, Sanduel scoffed. “Probably Mr and Mrs. Devil.”

“I’m an angel,” you corrected, a glass of wine back in your hand now. “Also, why would we fuck on camera? You guys don’t deserve the show.”

“God, you’re so drunk,” Lina screeched. She wasn’t exactly sober herself. Beside her Jimin winced at the volume.

“Of course I’m drunk, Lina, this is the first proper chance I’ve had in months.” Getting drunk alone was pretty miserable, now you had an excuse.

“So it’s definitely them who’ll start fucking first…” Hoseok muttered.

Seokjin heard him loud and clear though. He hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. “Yeah if we leave randomly you know this angel got horny for some devil dick.”

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed, pushing at his chest. He just laughed, reaching down to kiss you.

He did look mighty fine dressed as a devil though. Yeah, the red cape was basic but so were your angel wings and halo, but with his dark hair pushed back above his forehead, two red devil horns visible and his eyeshadow off the scale (your doing), he made a very, very sexy Satan!

Jimin pulled a face. “You’re actually going to fuck in those costumes, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are.” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what Halloween’s all about.”

“No, it’s not,” Nora laughed.

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” Sandeul sighed before shovelling down some candy corn.

“You know them better than anyone,” Namjoon chuckled.

“I was the first to know! Sworn to secrecy for weeks!”

“Yeah, and she didn’t tell me for so long,” Lina whined. Even though it was ages ago now you were still pretty sure she was salty about it.

Hoseok snickered. “It was because she was embarrassed to be fucking him.”

You scoffed, about to refute his claims but Sanduel had more to say apparently. “And then I had to deal with Jin moping around when she dumped him for that basketball player.”

“She didn’t dump me,” Seokjin protested. “We won’t together then.”

“Bro, you were still moping though.”

“Awh, you guys,” you whined, running your fingers through the hair on the back of Seokjin’s head. “Stop teasing him.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek but he moved, stealing one from your lips instead.

“Great Deul, you’ve started them off again.” Hoseok moaned.

“I don’t care anyway. The amount of times I’ve heard them going at it has made me immune.”

“Sanduel, we’re not that bad!” You complained, leaning forward to place your glass down on the coffee table.

Seokjin had your back. “As if we haven’t heard you and Jess fuck before.”

That however was not at all interesting to your friends though. They blatantly ignored it for a more interesting direction of topic.

“Did you ever catch them?” Jimin asked, sounding weirdly excited.

“No actually, which is baffling.”

“You nearly did – multiple times,” Seokjin informed him, which instantly turned Sanduel grey. Not bothered, my ass.

“Why are you guys so obsessed with our sex life?” You whined loudly. Was theirs that boring?

“Ooo, let’s play a game!!” Lina exploded suddenly, sitting up, her head now cut off from the screen. “Who’s the freakiest!!!”

Seokjin turned to you gleefully. “We got this in the bag, babe.”

In your eyes, the questions were quite tame, so yes, you and Seokjin really were scoring first place left and right. Although you had a hunch Lina was holding back information. As her best friend you knew what she was like and she was being awfully quiet for someone who’d suggested the game…

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever boned?” Nora asked, six questions in.

Seokjin didn’t even need a second. “Namjoon’s bedroom.” Your eyes bulged immediately, surprised he’d gone there.

“What?” Namjoon choked.

“Sorry, man. It just kinda happened.” Seokjin glanced at you, deeply amused. Poor Namjoon didn’t need more bad news.

“You guys have fucked in my bedroom?”

“Well, technically it’s not your bedroom anymore, but yeah,” you shrugged.

“When?”

The third degree was real. “A while back.”

“What the fuck you guys,” he groaned, his face a picture. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Lina couldn’t help but add.

“You, be quiet!” You warned, although you knew she wouldn’t spill. Your secret was safe with her.

Namjoon was looking more and more scared by the second. “What the fuck did you guys do in there?” Seokjin just laughed loudly. “Did you at least clean up?” He got no reply. He was deadly serious with his next question. “Did you make Ryan watch?”

“Namjoon!” Seokjin cried, practically wiping tears from your eyes. Maybe he was more drunk than you… You hadn’t realised. “He’s a stuffed animal.”

“That plush is all I have now.”

“Pity, the guy’s recently been dumped. This is bullying,” Hoseok interrupted, sticking up for his friend.

“It’s not,” your boyfriend insisted.

“Aw, Namjoon, I’m sorry,” you apologised, feeling guilty now. How could you make it up to him? “When all this is over you can come over and fuck someone in our bedroom.”

“What,” Seokjin protested. You ignored him.

“Who though?” Namjoon asked, sounding sad.

“You’ll meet someone new soon enough.” Lina reassured him. “You’re any girls dream guy.”

He perked up at that. “You think so?”

“Legit, man,” Jimin joined in.

“Wait,” Sandeul interrupted, seemingly realising something. “Is the costume roleplay exclusive to Halloween?”

… Of course the conversation was back on you and Jin…

“Why?” You asked.

“Because Namjoon had a fancy dress party for his birthday last year…”

Seokjin shrugged. “Any celebration.”

Sanduel instantly looked disgusted. “So you guys fucked as The Incredibles couple?”

You and Seokjin didn’t reply, but your faces said it all.

Namjoon groaned loudly. “I want to scoop my brain out.” Then he thought of something. “Was it in my bedroom?”

“Noooo!”

“Yes.”

You both replied at the same time and you pushed Seokjin. Now he was just purposely teasing his friend.

“Who’s lying?” Namjoon demanded, but Sanduel was too busy going through it, distracting you all.

“The Incredibles is my favourite childhood movie, man, now I feel gross. I can’t watch it ever again because I’ll imagine you two trying to superhero fuck.”

Your friends were way too dramatic. It wasn’t even a big deal, they were making it out to be way kinkier than it was, and Seokjin wasn’t helping matters. You were literally just having normal sex dressed up. That’s all.

“This game has taught me I’m best friends with a bunch of vanilla ice creams,” Seokjin tutted. “It’s called having fun. Something you guys can’t seem to do.”

“You all suck!” You agreed.

Hm, maybe you were just as guilty as your boyfriend… It was just too damn amusing goading your friends…

#bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:crystallised

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closer-stars · 3 years ago

Text

Heart of Depth (3)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: 9k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. A little bit of crime stuff, some history, some art info dump, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence (aka haha WooSanSang being badasses). Allusions to death. Note: Had to cut down part 3, it’s actually a lot longer originally lol. Inazuma’s been insane content. HoD was supposed to be 5 parts but considering how lengthy the parts have become it might be longer oops. Links to be updated after 24 hours. Life update: kinda got a slightly consistent work now so been focused on that. I hope this tides everyone over until I make a better return. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 2

“Yeosang, you might have to skip on meeting with them today.”

He looks up from his screen, peering at San several feet away from him. “Why?”

The good thing about San is that he’s unfazed when Yeosang uses that tone on him. He doesn’t cower when it comes to it, besides, there’s a special voice he uses when he’s genuinely angry. “Looks like there’s something special going on in the museum’s garden at night.” San explains. He already learned the hard way to not speak in riddles to him, but there were things that were better off spoken with mind games. “Check your email, I sent you the notice.” He says, shifting his attention to other matters on his plate.

There’s something in San’s voice that makes Yeosang want to groan. Usually, this means San’s got some sort of trick up his sleeve when some sort of misdemeanor has been happening-- though the last time San had to speak in riddles over something serious was a few thousand years back. To cut the agony short, Yeosang shifts his attention to his emails, already the email San has forwarded sits at the top.

It’s been a recurring incident for the past few weeks now. It’s only now that the museum have found the source of the smell. There’s been a peculiar flower that only blooms at night, emitting a scent similar to lavender, despite not looking like the mentioned plant. Though no one knows what flower is, the only response the staff has at the moment was to leave it be and wait for further instructions from the board. The photos attached to the notice made it easy for San to recognize it, all the man was waiting for was for Yeosang to see the photos too.

His demeanor changes almost immediately once it registers in his head. That’s his lover’s flower, the Neve Jewel. It’s blooming again. Truthfully, Yeosang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He didn’t really think they would’ve kept their promise after all this time. He stares at the images. He knows that glow, the shape, the colors all too well. All that’s left is the scent, it’s been so long since he smelled those flowers, now all but a lingering feeling in his dreams. Deep blue eyes lay unmoving on his computer screen as he tries to process waves of emotions in him. San waits in his seat quietly, even if his fingers tap away into processing permits and other papers, he worries for how Yeosang would take this. “I’ll let them know that I’ll be late today.” Yeosang states,already writing a message for you.

Did San think he’d do anything different? Not quite. Even with the change of schedules, he knows how much Yeosang looks forward to seeing you everyday. He also knows how the man will do anything for those he loves. He can’t comprehend how he’s been able to have such self-control since their passing. He would always visit the tombstone of his lover up until the earth had decided to give birth to new life.

[ Yeosang to You ] My dear, I’m afraid I won't be able to see you until after your closing hours.

“San, can you get me the iced cafe latte along with a slice of their strawberry cheesecake?” He would have to wait until night falls for him to catch sight of the flowers. He has feelings for you, that much he is sure. Whether or not you are who he thinks he is, how you’ve been towards him.

“Now?” San asks, rising from his seat and about to grab his jacket.

“That would be nice, yes.” He says as he busies himself with an email, for the changes in the schedule for today. With that settled, San’s already off to your shop.

---------

Just as San enters your shop, he’s amazed at the booming activity. All the tables were filled with various groups of people. He wondered what was so special about today. As he approached the counter, you had just finished packing up an order for takeout. While you seem to manage just fine on your own: taking orders and making drinks, it’s definitely not an easy task.

“Today’s bustling I see.” San says as you immediately rush over after washing your hands.

“San!” You exclaim, a little relieved for some sense of familiarity after the hectic peak hours. He sees your shoulders drop a little and he flashes a wide smile, glad to be of some relief to you. “Yeah, I asked some of the regulars what’s going on today and it seems like they have finals week coming up so everyone’s just been so busy with their studies.” You shrug as you explain. You were done with university so that aspect of those years are long behind you now. “Anyways, the usual?”

“Not quite? Two iced cafe lattes, one slice of chocolate mousse and one slice of the strawberry cheesecake.” You nod and after the transaction’s made, you let him wait by the far end of the counter as you get to doing the coffee.

He leans against the counter as he waits for his purchase. As time passes by, he looks around the place, watching regular humans go about their daily stresses. From the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar insignia on someone’s laptop. The owner’s hunched over, visibly lacking sleep as they seem to try beating their deadlines. He gazes at them for some time until he turns away, not wanting to think too much about it especially in front of all these people.

“Here’s your order. I added some cookies as well, those are on the house.” You explain upon seeing his confused expression. He flashes a bashful smile in thanks.

“Yeosang might come by later tonight.” He states. The sight of your flustered expression makes him smirk. “Has he already asked you to be his?” His light laugh rings in your ears and he stops teasing you.

“Wooyoung might be here instead later. I have to run a few errands today.” You relay to him to which San acknowledges to send to Yeosang. Just feels like the old days.

He should also probably relay to Yeosang the symbol he saw earlier.

--------

“Yeosang, we need to--” San’s words are cut short when he’s greeted by the sponsors in their office. He sets aside the food bought from your shop and greets the visitors properly, throwing out any sense of concern in his body.

“Ah yes, Mr. Choi just came back from an errand. Mr. Choi, I would like you to meet the representatives of the Museum of Ancient Art. I’m sure you’ve talked with them through the emails?” Yeosang says, voice going a little deeper as it usually does in front of formal visitors. If they weren’t in front of him, he would’ve laughed at how Yeosang still tries his best to assert himself. An eons old god, still trying to assert himself, if Yeosang only knew how much respect and intimidation he exudes.

San approaches the two that he has constantly talked with through their online exchanges, relieved to have faces to their names. That’s right, he remembers now. A meeting with the Museum of Ancient Art to see which collections they can exchange with and how to promote each other in their respective areas. He just hopes this meeting ends as soon as possible because he finally recognizes the insignia from earlier.

--------

The meeting lasts for two hours. Thankfully, it was a meeting that wasn’t the type that could’ve just been over email. The four of them rise from their seats, delighted to have finished a fruitful meeting on time. After San walks them out of the building, he hurries back in, and already Yeosang’s eating his slice of cake with his coffee.

“We have no other meeting after that right?” San says as he brings his share to his table, leaning against his seat after such a tiring discussion-- not even a museum tour for students had worn him out that much.

“None, so we will be here until after closing to check on the discussed flower.” Yeosang after sipping his coffee. “There was something you wanted to tell me, yes?”

This gets San back into business mode, stern lines on his face as he faces Yeosang who busies himself with his cake. “Yeah, I saw someone in their shop, with the same insignia as the one that did a break in a few weeks back.”

Yeosang’s eyes are on his coffee and half eaten cake as he listens to San’s encounter. This doesn’t feel right. Once he catches a glimpse of the flower, he’ll rush over to your shop. “I’ll drop by their shop afterwards.” He simply says.

San takes the chance to look at his companion carefully. Behind the calm eyes already a storm rages, there’s tension in his neck and arms. If he’s right, then it’s only a matter of time.

“We’ll discuss this at my place after tonight’s activities.” He simply ends the conversation there, taking another bite of his cake.

“We’re still visiting their shop after?” It was a bit of a surprise for San to hear Yeosang wanting to go out of his way. Then again, why was San even surprised by anything anymore. This is Yeosang, he’s talking to. Also, with what San saw, archons know just how much turmoil there is inside Yeosang.

“If it’s possible, yes.” Yeosang closes his eyes as he drinks his latte. That’s enough for San to know to leave Yeosang to the privacy of his thoughts. Now all that’s left to do is wait until closing time.

As San looks away from him, he shifts his view to his computer, then to his phone. It’s a little odd that you haven’t replied to his messages. Despite his calm facade, he’s stressed. If his assumptions are right, you’re being targeted, for reasons that are yet unknown to him.

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] Are you working in the shop right now?

[ Wooyoung to Yeosang ] on my way to the shop! Need me to prepare an order for you guys?

He stops for a moment, wondering the proper wording to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t panic as much as he is right now.

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] Maybe later should San and I make it after today’s itinerary. I was simply wondering since they haven’t replied to me today.

He stares at his phone screen for another moment.

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] We’ll let you know.

He has thirty more minutes before the museum is deserted. For now, he’ll make the most out of his cake. He’s not quite sure anymore if peace will last long from now on.

--------

San takes the lead tonight. He asks one of the security guards to direct him and Yeosang to where in the garden was this strange flower located. Yeosang follows the male a few steps behind. His hands hidden in the pockets of his coat, he doesn’t want anyone to see just how tense he was.

“It was spotted in this area, sir. The smell leads you to the plant.” The security guard informs them as he gestures to the general area.

San nods, taking note of his advice, already he catches a waft of the scent. He doesn’t need to look at Yeosang to know how on edge he was. “We can manage on our own from here. Thanks.” San promises, as he dismisses the guard, to return to his duty. As the security guard leaves the two alone, he glances at Yeosang. “Do you want to be alone?” The archon shakes his head. He sniffs the air for a moment. The scent takes him back to the memories of eons past. Simpler times, he assumes.

From there, the two of them follow the scent. It’s a sharp contrast from all the turpentine and antique materials they’ve been exposed to since the museum was built. In today’s standards, the Neve Jewel would remind the regular people of an untouched field in the mountains. Though it is similar to lavender, it is still something that would even make those who love the said herb doubt that it is lavender that they’re smelling.

From there, they see a faint glow against the dim lighting in the garden. A soft glow of cool blues bounce onto the ground from where the flower resides. San sits by the bench across the flower as Yeosang approaches the plant.

It’s just like how he remembers it, just like the painting he showed you. It’s still the same after all these years. Yeosang hears nothing but the rush of blood in his ears. He’s too scared to touch the flower, fearing that it would be reduced to nothing-- that this would just be a sick dream his mind conjured.

“It’s real, Yeosang.” San says softly, as he watches his friend gaze at the flower in disbelief.

Yeosang snaps out of his thoughts and stands up. “I think I got all the proof I need.” He says softly. He stretches his legs, now reaching his full height. “Let’s go visit the shop.”

--------

Yeosang parks his car a few steps away from your shop. The warm glow from the lights lets him hope that you’re still inside. He and San enter the shop, only to be greeted by Wooyoung mopping up the floor. “Oh, thought the two of you wouldn’t come. Want the usual?” He asks, the surprised look on their faces doesn’t slip by him. “Looking for Popsicle?'' Wooyoung asks, leaning his hand against the top of the mop.

“Popsicle..” San repeats, thoroughly confused but Yeosang catches his reference fairly quickly.

“Didn’t think you’d give them that nickname.” He muses, already handing his card to Wooyoung who is already making his way to the counter.

“Man, they call me Sparky, it’s even.” Wooyoung counters. He didn’t really think he’d reveal himself like that but alas, it’s been done.

“Creative nicknames.” San comments, amusement in his tone.

“Happens to the best of us.” With that, Wooyoung busies himself whipping up their orders. “Popsicle left early for personal errands and to try out some personal recipes, to see if they can add it to the seasonal menu.” He explains above the whirring of the coffee machine. “Also, apparently it was a busy day so they weren’t able to reply to any of our messages.”

Yeosang, unaware of some of the changes, inevitably trips against a potted plant. From the sudden cold feeling against his leg, Wooyoung probably had watered this just a few minutes ago. His resigned sigh catches San’s attention and notices his trousers have been, quite literally, soiled. “Uhhh, Wooyoung?” San calls out, a little concerned for the cleanliness of his peer’s outfit and the shop’s.

“What-- Oh.” Wooyoung sees the mess and Yeosang says nothing but an apologetic bow. “I can clean it up once it dries up. Cleaning up wet soil just makes a bigger mess.” He points out. Unfortunately for him, this means staying in the shop longer when he can be in his bed, underneath his comfy blankets.

“I can be of assistance.” The archon speaks up. San looks at his friend in alarm, hoping that he won’t give away what he really is but he pays him no heed. Wooyoung eyes him in confusion.

With a flick of his wrist, his watch extends into a double ended scythes, his reflexes this time faster than earlier. He dips the edge of the blade against the spilled mud then against his pants, making sure to not nick at the fabric. The water from the damp dirt envelops the blade quickly, turning from an opaque brown color to clear and clean water.

He lifts one end of the scythe from his pants and tips into the pot, the water dripping in as carefully as possible. Once successful, he taps the end of the scythe’s pole against the ground and immediately returns to a watch.

Wooyoung watches the entire scene, speechless and confused by the entire spectacle-- though more of the fact Yeosang knows how to wield a scythe. “Does San know how to use a weapon too?” This wasn’t what he was supposed to ask but it will do for now.

“Just a sword staff.” San returns in equal nonchalance as Yeosang, in hopes that it wouldn’t make Wooyoung lose his mind. Instead though, Wooyoung lets out a low whistle, impressed at the two’s experience of handling rare weapons-- well he assumed they were rare. For he went with a great sword while you were something along the lines of a mage. To be honest, you didn’t really know how to describe your choice either.

“Okay but, Yeosang, your pants are dirty and you used the blade against the fabric. Aren’t they expensive?” Wooyoung’s not entirely sure at this point of how to remedy the situation, one foot already at the direction of the broom to clean up the now dried soil. He’s not entirely shocked that Yeosang knows how to deal with water, his hydro vision hangs by his waist. He was more shocked with the scythe and the possibly damaged clothes. How he did that so willingly, maybe it’s the perk of being rich.

Yeosang waves his hand dismissively about his concern. “Nothing to worry about. I know someone who can clean this without sacrificing the quality. To ease your wary heart, I barely touched the blade against the pant leg. It’s still perfectly fine.”

Of course, he’d know someone. The rich always do.

“What brand are you even wearing?”

“Cucinelli.”

With that mentioned, Wooyoung stands up and leaves the two for a moment. The abrupt exit leaves the two surprised and concerned. He returns with a broom in hand, cleaning up the soil and putting it back into the pot. The brand name alone tells him everything he needs to know about how much the pants were. “Is it really that expensive?” Yeosang asks, a little surprised by Wooyoung’s sudden lack of response.

He doesn’t answer for a moment. “It’s enough to cover rent for a few months yeah.”

This makes the archon ponder for a moment. Truly there were things that he forgets from time to time about the differences in the lives of humans.

---------

For the next hour the two of them fill in Wooyoung on what has happened in their day, when all of a sudden Yeosang perks up in alarm.

Yeosang looks around, can never be too careful after all. “Did you see anyone with a symbol that depicts three intertwined knots?” Wooyoung just gives him a perplexed look. WIth the amount of people Wooyoung sees on the daily, it was rare that any of them would stand out to him. It was easier to spot people who stand out in a studio than in a coffee shop.

“Huh? Maybe our Popsicle did but I don’t remember seeing anything like that, why?”

This time, he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or not. The things the two have talked about, especially in the art scene, doesn't faze him anymore. For all he knows, the insignia they’re asking about is an anonymous artist they want to work with.

San shakes his head. “Just a hunch about something. One of these days, we can tell you but for now, we need to go home. It’s late.” San reminds them as he glances at the time.

By now, Wooyoung was already finished cleaning everything up. The paper and plastic packaging for their orders were in their hands and it’s on them to throw it. His reasoning? He already worked hard to keep this place clean and he’s stayed beyond work hours to wait for them just like you’d always do.

Now that the lights were closed and the doors were locked with ample protection by Wooyoung, San looks around and sees an odd being a few feet away. “Yeosang.” He murmurs softly, eyes flitting towards the direction he needs to face. The amulet in his pocket feels a little heavier.

Across the street stood the members from the Abyss Order, their eyes glinting in the dark with a plan that would put Wooyoung in danger should they not act quickly. “Wooyoung, I need you to get in the car now. I’ll drive you home.” Yeosang orders, tryinggnn his best not to sound on edge to not scare the guy. Usually, he and San can take care of these members without anyone around them becoming collateral damage. He’s not sure either if Wooyoung has his sword with him.

“What? Nah, it’s okay. I can just walk or get a taxi.” Wooyoung reassures, standing up twirling the keys in his fingers.

“Wooyoung, it’s an ord--” Before Yeosang could complete his sentence, San already has his sword staff up, creating a sturdy shield to block out the bullets that were fired at them. The boom and the lack of sound from impact makes Wooyoung look over immediately. San’s weapon stands at a roughly twelve feet tall pole alone, add the sword and it could have been eighteen feet in length. The human’s not quite sure as to how that happened but questions might be better put for later.

“Ah shit.” Your friend mutters, unclasping his bracelet and already it shifts into a greatsword, taking up a length of six feet easily. “I don’t know what they are but they are not damaging this shop.” What’s scarier: these unknown threats or you screaming?

He manages to block a few of the projectiles coming their way,much to the shock of the two immortals. “Got any plan? Preferably something that makes sure this shop is unscathed?” Wooyoung growls, returning the projectiles, with much more strength towards the perpetrators. This time, the heated projectiles combined with his element, exploding upon impact. His vision glows a sharp purple as he continues to use his element.

Yeosang looks around, trying to figure out a plan. “Watch my back” He simply says. Immediately, San shifts to take his usual position behind the archon. Wooyoung on the other hand, still throws damage against the strange figures. “Wooyoung, keep exposing them to electricity.”

The human grunts in acknowledgement, slightly frustrated that he can’t move around freely as he has to make sure the shop takes no damage. San jumps into action,using the bladed end of his staff to take out what seems to be a burly figure wielding an electro hammer who was lunging straight towards Yeosang. It doesn’t take much to know that the figure’s near gone with how hard it staggers back from the impact.

Yeosang spins his scythe, and the blades start to get enveloped by water. As he swings his scythe, blades of water hone in on the figures, knocking them back upon impact and damaging their own weapons. This gives enough time for San to push forward and drive his staff down onto them: pinning them against a sudden burst of wind currents. The pressure making it hard for them to wriggle out of, yet they twitch insistently from the exposure to electricity and water. “Leave if you want to see another day.” Yeosang warns in a strange voice. Wooyoung’s not sure if his goosebumps are from the static on his sword or from the change in Yeosang’s attitude.

The men-- from what Wooyoung can only presume, submit to his order, speaking of promises to not return to the area and other words that he can only assume were pleas of mercy.

“Whoever sent you here, tell them of my regards.” Yeosang growls. He doesn’t need to lean forward to look them in the eye. From where he stands, waves of his power come off him slowly. Something in Wooyoung runs cold when he sees his eyes and the tips of his hair glow an intense blue-- a blue that reminds him of the deepest trenches in the ocean, as he restrains their movements even further with water.

When the promises are made, San makes sure to look each perpetrator in the eye, memorizing their faces and features for the future. They can never tell when the tide changes. The male then loosens his restraints on the men, despite the blood and bruises they have he lets them go. Though personally, he would’ve sliced them into ribbons for coming into this part of the neighborhood.

Once the three have scrambled away from them, Yeosang heaves a sigh. It’s been a little too long since he had tapped into his archaic abilities. He carefully switches his scythe back into a watch, clasping it around his wrist. Once it’s snug around his wrist, he checks the time. Past midnight. What a tiring day. San heaves a tired groan, tapping the end of his staff against the ground and it becomes a weaved ring on his pointer again. The archon walks to his car, unfortunately with a few dents and scratches. It will be a matter to be taken cared of for another day, for now: safety.

“Get in the car.” He has already put up a protective layer of water against your shop, making sure that any damage against your shop would be minimized. The three figures have already retreated but to leave Wooyoung alone would be a death wish. Wooyoung scratches his thumb against the base of his sword and it turns immediately into his bracelet. He makes sure everything else is clear then hops into the car, swinging the door shut as Yeosang steps on the gas.

“Who were they?” Wooyoung exclaims as he falls back into his seat with an exhausted whine. His clothes were definitely a mess and the adrenaline’s starting to wear off “Shit, Popsicle.” He worries for your safety, especially after tonight’s run-in. He’s not sure if you’ll be able to fend for yourself on your own.

“San will take care of them. It’s too dangerous for us to go get them right now.” He promises yet the edge in his voice doesn’t leave. He knows who they were but why they were there is what’s making him grip the steering wheel harder than he should. “Yeosang.” San’s voice immediately reminds him to breathe. “To answer your question, the ones we fought earlier are from the Abyss Order. They haven’t been making their presence known in years.”

“So why now?”

“We don’t know.” San replies in place for Yeosang. “That’s why we asked if you saw a three intertwined knot insignia earlier because I saw something when I went in during their shift.” The rest of the drive is quiet. The car slows down to an acceptable speed to avoid any road blocks along the way.

“You’re staying the night in my place for now.” Yeosang explains much to Wooyoung’s shock. “It’s not safe for you to go back yet. Not until tomorrow morning at least. San will pick them up. He knows his ways around the roads here.” He continues, as he slowly parks his car in the complex’s parking lot.

Wooyoung explains to San where the two of you live and San already has a mental image of it. “Any landmark?”

“A convenience store right next to a grandmother’s ramen shop.”

“Okay, I’ll see you guys later.” San then jumps out of the car and onto the scaffoldings of the buildings.

Wait, this is where Yeosang stays? Wooyoung looks around the area: the cars look timeless, expensive as well. On the ground seems to be the numbers of the respective owner’s place. He shuts off the engine and unlocks the doors. “Tell them to bring what they need for the next few hours. I have a lot to explain.”

---------

That’s how Wooyoung ended up staying in Yeosang’s place for the night. Yeosang cooks up a simple pasta for them, knowing that even San will sleep over for the night. Wooyoung offered to help but Yeosang had been stubborn enough to make him sit down and drink his tea after updating you with what had happened.

The needed conversation had to happen with you around so to kill time, both men decided to know the other a little more beyond the coffee shop and art museum.

“... I basically got my vision after realizing what I wanted to do with my life.” Wooyoung explains. It happened after having a conversation with you in high school. “We were fighting about whether or not I should try for the competition despite my injuries..” Go figure. He went all in for it, of course with your help to keep him grounded but it would seldom work as he tunnel visioned into his goal. The difference between your two favoured medium is in the longevity of the works. He accepted that dancing is one of the shortest living works. Three minutes on stage is different from three minutes through a screen. Yet, there he was wanting to make his name known for years to come despite the short lifespan of dance. “It was when I told little Ice Cube about it that my vision formed in my pocket.”

“I did get my name out there, once we started studying in university.” He continues. “I rose up the dance crew quickly. Things are always different in real life as compared to recorded performances, yet there’s always something beyond as they would say.” He shrugs, trying his best to not sound like he’s bragging. “Now here I am, teaching some idols choreography while teaching passionate dancers in a studio with a part time in your shop.”

This makes Yeosang mull for a bit. He’s met the Electro Archon, with Wooyoung’s story it did fall in line with the Archon’s belief and virtue: to go beyond what Time can limit. It took a few thousand years to remind the mentioned Archon of their humanity though. Fortunately, they have thus the influx of electro users in the succeeding years. He wonders then, when did you get yours? The archon does not want to pry yet curiosity pesters his mind. “I’m assuming that they have gotten their vision prior to yours then?”

The mortal looks at him with wide eyes. “They never told you how they got the cryo vision huh?” Wooyoung notes as he takes his time to study Yeosang’s place.. Yeosang busies himself by making himself a cup of tea, while Wooyoung an americano. He knows his skills in creating coffee would be sub-par compared to yours but for now, it will do for him.

“I’m afraid not, though I am aware of the similarities of the lives led by cryo users.” Yeosang returns as he hands the mug to the other male. Each Archon hands a human or an adepti with a vision, usually done when the subject of interest has reached a point in their life that exhibits values worthy of their attention. For the Pyro archon, it would be due to the passion one carries despite all odds. For Yeosang, the hydro vision is gifted when the human exhibits the desire to better themselves. The Cryo archon was an oddball even after the changes, for those who receive the cryo vision are those who have gone through a certain loss that changes them in the long run. As if to help them survive what the world has done to them.

What did you lose?

Wooyoung eyes the coffee in his hands with worry. Your story is not his story to share, but he can share parts of it from his eyes. “They started living with my family at a young age.” He starts. “It took them awhile to warm up to the family but no one forced the lil Popsicle to be happy.” The dazed wary look you would give his parents pained him even until now. “Despite that, they’ve been deadly protective of our parents and brothers. You were always willing to fight any one that tried to bully me or any of our other classmates.” He says with a soft laugh. Yeosang listens intently, the mere image of you, a small child, willing to protect those who were suffering, it would’ve been a sight to see. Wooyoung takes a careful sip, making sure to not burn his tongue. “Their family was known for their ventures in history, usually through art and any written records.” Wooyoung adds, looking up at the male across from him. There’s something in him that tells him that Yeosang isn’t any regular vision holder. “Can I ask something?”

The question surprises the archon slightly but he gestures for Wooyoung to continue. He supposes that not everything can be told from another pair of eyes, best to be told by someone who has seen it all.

“You’re not a regular human are you?” Wooyoung’s question makes him chuckle.

“What made you ask?” Yeosang starts, eyeing the human with curiosity.

“For starters, no one’s hair glows at the tips.” Wooyoung points out, tipping his head towards the fringe that frames his face. “Nor should the eyes” he adds, referring to the run in earlier. He doesn’t add the words Yeosang spoke of, thinking it could be twisted easily into his favor. “Also, this amount of money cannot be amassed in such a short year unless you’re from a rich family.” In the back of his mind, he was already making a plan of how to escape and warn you should this become a worst case scenario. He was about to list more before Yeosang cracks up.

“Well, yes. You are correct. I am not.. A human entirely.” Though he does plan to live like one after this.

“But you’re not.. An adepti either then? You don’t look like Ganyu.” Wooyoung points out. At least that removes the possibility of him being associated with the bad guys. What memories that name brings him. It’s been a long time since he’s heard from Ganyu. The last he’s seen her, she could pass off as a woman in her early fourties if it weren’t for the ruby horns that curled upwards from her head. Maybe he should pay her a visit in the near future.

“An adepti can take on a form like Ganyu yes, but there are also adepti that can take on the forms of animals or look like regular humans. My dear friend San, is an adepti as well.” Yeosang counters calmly as he sips his tea. “Now, I trust their judgement, you are a trustworthy human, especially to have the electro vision. Dear Wooyoung,” he starts. The ways of proving that he was the archon without annihilating an entire area is usually limited for a human’s mind can be picky. He lets his eyes turn into wide saucers, too wide to be considered human, and for his skin acquires scales like that of a dragon. Wooyoung’s reaction tells him enough and he reverts himself back to that of a human.

“You’re the hydro archon.” Wooyoung sputters out.

“That is correct.” Yeosang nods calmly.

“Can I swear?”

“Carry on.”

“Holy shit.”

--------

The way San entered your apartment as well was enough to scare you for the next three days or so. He doesn’t tell you much, even in the safety of your own home. Only a “Let’s go. We’ll explain somewhere safer.” By then, you already had your things ready and kept everything in place. Your vision is securely strapped around your waist while your Regalia is on your wrist.

You arrive in one piece thanks to San. He had you running through small roads and hidden spots around the city, to avoid prying eyes and wandering ears from seeing the two of you.

At first glance, you assume that this was another regular apartment complex that maybe you staying at home was the better option. But when you enter the lobby, the smell alone tells you this more than a regular building. There’s a receptionist with three guards around the place, the pristine interiors softened by the warm lighting. You feel out of place in your regular sweats and hoodie, San on the other hand might be in a worse position. A wrinkled jacket, dress shirt that’s been dirty with his tie loosened, his shoes lost their luster and his hair was in slight disarray. A rare sight indeed.

“Let’s go. They won’t mind you anyways as long as you’re with me.” San reassures you, sensing your discomfort when the staff pass a glance at you. He walks with you to the elevator and once the two of you are in the small box, he heaves a sigh of relief and exhaustion, leaning against the wall for some sense of support.

“What exactly happened, San?” You ask. The concern in your voice makes him look over at you and for a moment, he thought he saw the previous archon in you. No wonder Yeosang’s been hung up about you. Yet, once he comes to his senses, it’s just the same you. A regular human who carries the cryo vision, yet he could also see why Yeosang would like you regardless of your potential history.

The rising elevator makes your ears pop, thankfully you manage to hear him say, “We’ll talk about it in Yeosang’s place. Wooyoung’s there as well.” He repeats. There’s no hint of unperceived danger in his voice yet it puts you on the edge.

The lift rings, notifying them of their arrival. He gestures for you to walk ahead of him, mostly out of your own safety to make sure nothing comes running at you from behind. “2411” The man behind you says, and so you look for the number. It’s deep into the hallway when you finally see his place. San takes the chance to knock on the door thrice, and without missing a beat, it’s Wooyoung that greets the two of you-- slightly worse for wear but nothing you can’t fix.

He sighs in relief, seeing you in one piece along with San and he lets the two of you in. “I brought your stuff.” You say, handing his duffle bag to him and he manages to let out a sound of relief.

“Yeosang! I’ll go ahead and shower!” He calls out, leaving you and San alone with him. The way Wooyoung has become so casual and comfortable with him doesn’t surprise you anymore.

San takes up the stool Wooyoung left, you sitting next to him as you try to make sense of his apartment. The wide view of the skyline from wall to wall in the living room was enough to make your head swim with a fear of heights. The colors were on the whites and browns with the occasional accent of black. His kitchen didn’t really help quell your curiosity of just how rich he was. It’s only now that Wooyoung’s words were settling into your head. He’s rich and if your guess is right, he’s probably part of the 0.5% of society. There is no way he can pay for the upkeep of this apartment easily unless he was part of that aspect of society.

Your eyes return to him as he serves the two of you some of the pasta he had made earlier. “Eat while it’s still hot.” He says for now. San doesn’t mind your questioning gaze on his friend but Yeosang tries not to cave in. Not yet. “I will explain everything once everyone’s cleaned up. It will be a long night for you and Wooyoung especially.” He leaves no room for arguments, and it takes a moment for the archon to realize that he’s using his business voice again. He rubs the back of his neck, albeit uncharacteristic of him as he tried to assert his calm nature just moments ago. “I will take a shower for now, don’t rush your meal for tonight.” Thus leaving the two of you on your own.

---------

The water runs hot against his skin but the temperature doesn't faze him, steam has already coated the mirrors and the glass tiles. He just stares blankly at the murky rivulets that run down his body and to the drain. Questions still ring in his head as to what could’ve happened, why did it happen, and what had happened. You’d think an aged archon such as he could see the answers easily, yet there’s one thing he can never get right. Humans and their “sense” of logic, the claimed hardest to sway yet here he is wondering why things went the way they did with the adrenaline from the battle wearing off as the hot water relaxes his muscles.

What was in the store that the Abyss Order thought was of importance? Was it you?

As much as he loves being with water, he hates how it would remind him of many memories he tries to push away they still come back. Ironic really how water always is in motion, yet he can’t seem to just move on from what has happened years back. He snaps out of his thoughts and finishes washing up for the night, his dirty clothes tossed into the hamper as he changes into his sleep wear for the night.

One day, the memories won’t hurt anymore. For now, he lets them hurt until the pain ebbs away. He lets himself mourn the pain for a few moments before coming back to reality. He can’t let himself mourn more than needed, there are things he needs to attend to first.

When he comes back to the kitchen, it’s Wooyoung who is now keeping you company and from the looks of things, he was filling you in on what had happened to the best of his ability.

“Really,” you sigh, drying your plate as you eye him with concern. “Thank goodness, you had your bracelet on you today. Let me check you for injuries.” You chastise him, not taking a no for an answer as you give his body a quick scan.

“Ice cube, I think you should be checking on San and Yeosang-- Ow!” He yelps, when he feels your hand press on his shoulder.

“Did you handle your sword the wrong way again?” You ask, spreading a thin layer of ice on his skin, akin to a muscle relaxant strip.

The way you know him so well makes him pout. “Maybe..” He mutters, he waits for an earful that never comes. Instead, your attention shifted to Yeosang who has been watching the two of you bicker for what could’ve been this entire time.

“Oh hey, Yeosang. I was telling them what had happened earlier, well at least the ones I understand.” He changed his seat so that Yeosang could sit next to you.

Little shit.

“You didn’t have to clean up.” He says, thanking Wooyoung for the seat. He doesn’t stop you though, you were practically finished with the job anyways.

“It’s fine. It’s the least I can do. San went to clean himself up a few minutes ago.” You take your seat after cleaning up the dishes, you don’t miss the chance to shoot Wooyoung a glare at his motive though.

“Then he’ll most likely return in ten minutes. Wooyoung, what have you told them thus far? Just so San and I can fill them in on any questions they might have.”

“Mostly the fight, what the guys looked like, and your weapons.” He says, a little too enthusiastically thus causing the two of you to look at him with raised eyebrows. “What? It’s not everyday you see a double ended scythe and a sword staff three times taller than San.”

“I heard that.” A pointed voice comes out from behind the. It was San, fresh out of the shower with an empty look of annoyance on his face.

“Well, now that we’re here. I suppose we can get started.”

The four of you take comfort in the living room as this could be a very long discussion. Well, to be specific, it’s only San that manages to find comfort on the couch, lounging on one side like a lazy cat while you and Wooyoung are still in shock over the quality of the place alone. The two of you sit carefully on the couch, Yeosang decides to sit across the two of you. The archon already seems burdened, wondering how else to go about this.

“For starters,” San suggests. “I think it would be a good idea to tell you that I saw someone at your shop with the insignia on their laptop. It’s safe to guess that they’re part of the Abyss Order.”

You look at him in confusion. The name rings faint bells but not quite what you were looking for. “The what?” You ask, shifting your glance to Yeosang. The immortals wonder if they saw a spark of fear flash before your eyes as you try to make sense of the situation.

“The Abyss Order, my dear, they’re a long running organization. They started from wanting to topple Celestia, to wanting to take down the Archons.” It was the simplest way Yeosang could put it. The complete run down of history could take longer than a night and he doubts you and Wooyoung could take so much information within a short period of time. “Their insignia has changed over time. They work in the shadows, feeding opposing ideas to humans in subtle ways that reach the communal consciousness.” There have been certain forms of media that have come out that romanticize questionable lifestyles and choices, that only a handful can tell the Abyss had a hand in them.

“So why were they at my shop? I’m just a regular human trying to make ends meet and make my dreams come true” You say.

“Regular my butt. Ice Cube, we have visions, I don’t really think we’re regular.” Wooyoung snorts. He has a point, vision carriers weren’t that common. “But that is a good question.” He says after a jab to his side thanks to you.

Yeosang cups his chin in thought. “My guess is because of San and I.” He returns calmly. “Well, to be exact, me.”

Wooyoung’s head starts to work into overdrive. “Wait, right.” He cuts his own words off, groaning into his hands. San starts to find his own nails interesting as the conversation shifts to this. Unfortunately you were still unable to make sense out of everything. How could you, your night went from San telling you to pack up, to running through unknown streets, to seeing the three of them in a slightly worse for wear situation to a multimillion apartment.

“Can someone please explain?” You plead, your patience running thin. You don’t like being kept in the dark. You don’t like the familiar feeling of frustration and powerless feeling it brings.

“My dear, I don’t know how else to say this but I, Kang Yeosang, am the Hydro Archon.” As he reveals this, his eyes glow into the colors of the ocean, with his pupils widening more than normal, streaks of ice blue against a deeper blue green hue. If you look any closer, you might be able to see hints of white, just like sea foam in his eyes. His skin forms patches of scales on his forearms, but the metamorphosis stops there. He’d rather not turn into full form and cause property damage. “I’ve been the one responsible for giving Hydro visions for as long as I can remember.” He manages to rasp out, his voice now rather hoarse due to the partial transformation.

Your eyes grow wide, somehow this makes sense and at the same time it doesn’t. This explains his extensive knowledge of history yet at the same time, it’s a struggle to wrap your mind around the mere fact you’ve been catching feelings for an immortal being. Of all beings to fall for, it had to be the Archon. It couldn’t have been someone like Wooyoung but then again, do you really want that?

“He wields a double scythe by the way.” Wooyoung comments under his breath. That part, you can take in stride, your best friend handles a great sword while you used something akin to a floating orb.

“But wait, you said initially, this Abyss Order’s targets were you and San. Is San an Archon too?” You ask. If he was the Anemo Archon, you might have to cut this discussion short-- it’s been a hectic and eventful day.

“I was offered, but I turned it down.” San says with a shrug. “I prefer just being something like a guardian of a region rather than overseeing the entire world.” He doesn’t continue the story and instead stretches his body out like a cat lazing under the sun.

Yeosang slowly transforms back into that of a regular human. “That’s as far as my guess goes, that I’m the primary target. Anything else is unfortunately beyond my knowledge.” He hasn’t kept in contact with the other archons either so it’s anyone’s guess at this point.

“So what now?” You ask. “I really can’t just stay at my shop 24/7. Wooyoung can’t either, besides the shop, he works at a dance studio too, remember?”

Yeosang stays silent for a while, thinking through possible remedies for the time being. “Would an additional hand suffice?”

“I’m not hiring you or San into my shop. I don’t think the salary I can give either of you could compare to the salary in an art museum.”

“Oh no, not me. The art museum needs San and I to continue running.” He shakes his head. It was a lovely idea though, a nice change from the constant stress of files and intensive care. “I know someone who might be able to help, he’s just like San.” San looks over at Yeosang with a raised brow, raising his head from his arm to get a better view of his friend.

“I mean, if he’s a friend of yours and is aware that I can’t give a salary as high as you can then I don’t think I can turn down the offer.”

“Then it’s settled then. I’ll contact Hongjoong tonight to give him the details. If things go as planned, he will be able to meet you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh right, Yeosang put up some sort of protective barrier for the night that spans until early afternoon I think? So more time for us to rest and catch up on sleep.” Wooyoung explains upon seeing your panicked face at the ‘tomorrow afternoon’ part. “So I guess, that’s it for tonight?” Wooyoung asks in a hopeful tone, trying to stifle a yawn with his hands.

The immortals remember the limitations of humans and thus decide to end the discussion here. “Yes, we can continue this some other time. For the sake of your safety, feel free to come to the art museum. I’ll let the staff know of you to let you through easily. For now, it is better for the two of you to get some rest.”

San sends him a look, realizing that he had omitted a certain topic out of the discussion. At the mention of rest, you start to feel the exhaustion seep into your bones. Your eyes feel heavy now as Wooyoung’s yawn reminds you of how eventful the day was for both of you. “I’ll lead them to their room.” San offers, much to Yeosang’s relief as he couldn’t handle what San might want to discuss once the two were off to rest.

Yeosang switches the lights off, bathing the room in darkness and night lights once more. The hallway was dimly lit, making sure that none of his visitors bumped themselves to their slumber. He asks himself why he veered away from the topic of you being a potential interest by the Abyss Order. He wasn’t happy with the answer but it’s the only one he’s got.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, yet he knows that those who don’t know it are doomed to repeat it. Even with these worries, he can’t get himself to look at the amulet that rests by his bed side.

--------

Something inside you starts turning. “San, do you remember what the symbol looks like?” You ask carefully, voice barely above a whisper. For Wooyoung’s sake, you didn’t want him to hear this conversation.

His eyes glance at you after watching Wooyoung flop over the bed. It’s only now that you notice the green streaks in his eyes. “Of course, something wrong?”

“Can you draw it and send it to me over chat?” You don’t answer his question. “Also, do you have any injuries?” Until you have some sort of confirmation, you won’t divulge any information to him.

San raises his knee as an answer. “Scraped myself when I had to pin the Abyss members down but nothing too worrisome.”

“Can I at least fix it? I wasn’t able to ask Yeosang either of his injuries.” San remembers that you were more adept at healing, you can still pack a punch but you preferred to stay at the back. For both of your peace, he enters the room and lets you check on his injuries.

At least the wound has been cleaned but it’s still very fresh. “This isn’t just a scrape, San.” There’s something in your tone that makes San shrink back like a child. Wooyoung peeks over, your concern catching his attention.

“That looks pretty bad.” Wooyoung comments much to San’s embarrassment. Never did the guardian expect a human to chide him like a parent-- not even Yeosang did that.

“It’s not that--” San’s words are cut off by the jolt in temperature. The sharp cold stings against his wound-- maybe he didn’t disinfect it enough. He hears you murmur words of what he can only assume were spells. The intense drop in temperature made his leg stiffen from the sensation, but it was gone as quick as it happened. The guardian looks at his legs and already it was new skin, as if the wounds never even happened and he had just decided to do an exfoliation. “Makes me wonder how you’d be in a fight.” He muses his thanks, running his fingers gently against his healed knee.

“Please don’t. I might just be the type to cry while fighting.” You plead, much to Wooyoung’s amusement.

The immortal chuckles at the image, for the most part it is endearing but he tries not to wear down the light conversation with the more realistic thoughts in his head. San stands up and heads towards the door. “Good night you two, the next few days might be a little hectic for the four of us.”

Part 4

#my writings #yeosang fanfiction #yeosang au #yeosang scenarios #reader x ateez #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez au #what else do i tag this as lol

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neo-culture-mafia · 4 years ago

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12 층

previous chapter

t.w.: THIS CHAPTER REVEALS WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN MARK AND TAEYONG to make them hate each other (in jeno’s view), this chapter also deals with anxiety, death, and mature themes as in: prostitution, pills, and hand-to-hand violence

Lee Jeno

9 months that we've worked for our enemy. 9 months that I wished that we were all killed instead of transported. I don't even know who's left. I have looked over the ones who were transported with me. The enemies joke that we're the only ones left but my heart knows that they're still alive. The same way that I know that Mark and y/n are still alive. I know they are.

I have been using the resources I was provided with to figure out where they are as I remember the entryway to Neo Culture online databases. Seven Stars just decided to throw away the database as they deemed it unnecessary to keep tabs of...idiots.

Some days I get signals from their tracking devices but it's in the middle of the farming part of the country. I don't think they've moved for months.

Maybe that's where their dead bodies were dumped. No. They're alive. They have to be. They would never kill themselves.

Renjun doesn't even want to talk to me because I always bring the possibility up. Kun tries to be understanding but I know he wants to tell me that I'm wasting my time. Jisung is the only one I can talk to where he still looks to me for guidance and leadership. And Chenle...he disappeared a month ago. Some of the head workers say he was transferred back to the main base while others joke he was sold into the prostitution rings. I know he's out there somewhere...I just don't know where.

"We need to show up soon, then." Jisung excitedly whispered as he held a makeshift stuffed animal made out of an old towel against his chest. "I know. I need to get the others on board though-" "No. Renjun will just tell on us and Kun will try to make us stay." Jisung turned over to face me more.

The mat we slept on was in an old storage closet a meter by 2 where there was no light and a thin sheet to provide the both of us warmth all year long.

"Renjun wouldn't rat us out-" "Yes he would. He ratted you out when you tried to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night...remember?" He asked and I tried to rake my mind for a valid excuse. "He was just scared of us all getting punished-" "You couldn't walk for a week!" Jisung's voice raised which made my hand fly up to cover his mouth.

"We need to go alone," Jisung said as he pulled my hand off of his mouth. I focused on the dark blob in front of me. "Ji..." I sighed and rubbed my face to try and make a hard decision.

If we leave alone- Renjun and Kun would get punishment. If we all go and find 2 dead bodies...how will we show back up to our captors? With our heads hung low and our tail between our legs? We would look like complete fools and probably killed on sight...but would that be the worst thing?

"Let's just sleep for now and I'll think about it a little more." I felt Jisung move closer as the 'stuffed animal' was now pressed in between us. Jisung's skin was as cold as ice but he had lost the want to shiver and try to stabilize himself a long time ago. I held onto him tightly as I listened to his breathing become steady and his body become limp.

I stayed up for what felt like ever as sleep evaded my mind. I knew what I had to do.

~~~~ "No! Please!" Jisung and I sat up quickly to screaming. "Get off of him!" We could hear yelling from the next closet over. It sounded like Kun as sounds of struggle echoed off of the concrete walls.

I scrambled to the door as I tried jiggling the handle I knew wouldn't budge. I started banging on the door. "Kun! What's happening!" I screamed hoping he could calm down and give a concise answer. "Renjun!" He screamed and I could hear the pure horror and anger in Kun's screams. "You're hurting him!" Kun screamed at the top of his lungs as I could only stare at the door in defeat and sadness. I couldn't do anything. I was utterly helpless.

"Do something!" Jisung's arms pulled me back as he squeezed past me to the door. "Open the door!" Jisung screamed as he got down on his knees to try and see out of the grates that let minimal fresh air in.

"Do something." Jisung looked back at me and I could only sit down on my bottom and try to block out the screams and thumps. "I can't do anything, Jwi." I said lowly. He didn't take it as an answer as he continued to hit and smack the door in an attempt to save his older brother.

After a while, a bang was heard and the screaming ceased.

~~~~ Renjun no longer came to work in the office room we all shared. "He's alive." Was the only thing Kun would mutter every morning. Kun had been losing faith every single day he would go back and see his little brother withering away to malnourishment and probable infection.

I knew what Jisung and I had to do. I checked their chips and they were in the exact same position...middle of no where. I wrote a note to Jisung on one of the paper scraps I was about to shred, "We leave on a supply pick up tonight. Be ready and leave everything" He read it and I could sense his whole body become tense. I already had the plan in my head perfectly.

"Kun." I sighed and he only side-eyed me, flicking through pages absentmindedly. I gathered my words after I chose them wisely. "I just wanted to say that I need you to take care of Renjun as much as you can and don't lose hope." I spoke and a microexpression of anger flashed through his eyes, "What do you think I've been doing, Jeno?" His words bounced off of my ears and a pit of guilt started to grow in my stomach, "Out of everyone here, I do the most, plus make sure that our family doesn't die." Kun said looking at me and Jisung. "You? Telling me what to do? Typical." Kun's eyes rolled in his head as I didn’t have the confidence to look at him. "I've already been doing my best-- but obviously it's not good enough for you." Kun stood up and slammed the file he had been going through on the table.

"Now if you excuse me, I'll go carry out your order, boss." His words were meant to be sharp but they propelled off of me for I knew that he would be preoccupied attending to Renjun now.

"Are you sure-" "You can't be serious. You wanted to do this and now you're second-guessing?!" I whisper yelled at a Jisung who sat still as he looked to his work-- or merely bending the edges of the paper he was supposed to be organizing, "sorry" escaped his lips quietly as he sunk into his seat.

~~~~ "Stay close," I whispered to Jisung as we hopped off of the loading truck. "You both need to get ammunition and medical supplies." Our group leader barked at me and Jisung as others pushed thick bags into our chests. Names were thrown in our direction while the group leader read off the rest of the tasks. "Dismissed."

Jisung and I were off into the abandoned building as the others stayed on the first couple of floors. The other group's echoes bounced off of the cement staircases Jisung and I were forced to climb. No other sane human would go into the upper floors of the abandoned warehouses where Seven Stars held surplus supplies-- let alone at night. But, tonight I was content as I climbed those crumbly steps up to the top floor. Floor 12.

I already knew how we were going to get our sweet-"What's the plan?" Jisung asked as I turned around to shut him up. "What plan?" I asked with a wink and he just looked at me square in the face, "The one for the paperwork that's due next Monday." He sighed and walked past me on the stairs to the last landing.

"Oh, Kun said he was gonna pitch in the last papers to boss on Friday." Jisung blocked me out as we rounded the harsh corners of the building to the familiar vault.

Jisung reached it first as he grabbed at the handles and pulled. My heart was beating faster as the nervous thoughts and guilt took over my chest. It was our lives...or theirs. If we were to be caught...it would be instantaneous death-- hopefully.

"Can you just hand me the bag already?" Jisung seemed upset-- as if I had blown off his question regarding his future freedom. I grabbed his bag and slipped the thin mask into the bag without notice.

I started to examine the door of the vault and slipped the lock on it that would make it impossible to open from the outside.

Don't do it...he's gonna have a panic attack-- but that's what we want. The angel and devil on my shoulders fighting constantly.

Jisung started to shovel the boxes into the black sack when he finally noticed that I wasn't helping, "What's wrong now-" "Please forgive me. There's a mask in the bag. Start yelling in 30 seconds." I only looked at his confused face for a second before grabbing the vault door and slamming it shut-- deafening darkness surrounding him instantaneously.

I grabbed the chemicals from my side pocket and laid them out on the floor in front of me. "Jeno." Jisung's voice started ringing out. "I'm right here, buddy." I whispered. "Jeno! Let-" The yelling was starting to seep out of the cracks of the door. "Do you want to see Mark and y/n?" I asked quietly as I poured the lethal yet odorless liquid around the door frame.

I could hear him become calm. "Yes." Was all that was cracked out. "Then put on the mask I gave you in the bag, and start screaming like you're dying." "Please don't leave me." Jisung's voice was stripped with pure fear. "I would never. I promise." I grabbed the vials and put them back in my back pocket. I could hear the rummaging and then his voice set out. I kicked the metal as if it had just slammed.

"Help!" I screamed and all of a sudden, a stampede cascaded up the steps. I continued screaming and banging on the door as Jisung's screams pierced the air.

"What's going on?!" The team leader asked with his gun drawn at my face. "Jisung got locked in the vault and it won’t open." I heaved as I tried to kick the door in, knowing it would do nothing. "Oh. Thought something more serious happened." The team leader chuckled as everyone else started to walk away. "Please help him out, please. For him-- for me." I begged as I got on my knees in front of the man I loathed, grabbing his hands delicately.

"And why would I help you?" His hands coming up so his fingertips could cascade across my cheekbone lightly. "Boss-- Jisung has been the top seller. If he's gone-- Boss is going to come after you." I pouted as a pit of disgust opened in my stomach; my heart and morals were now all thrown out of the window. The other men smiled on in dominance as they thought that the brat I had deemed myself had finally bent down for them.

"I just...couldn't bear something happening to you because Boss got angry." I held his hand lightly as I could feel my facade waver. A deep breath was sucked into his chest as he looked back at his group. "Help get the boy out." He motioned to the door. The men reluctantly got closer to the door as they touched the frame and actual door as Jisung's cries only grew louder and more frequent. I could hear the gasps for air as I knew Jisung was now in full panic mode.

"Now you, you're going to come with me to go get the lock breaks." He winked as he grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me down the 12 flights of stairs.

I started to internally panic as this was deviating from my plan. I didn't want to kill this man that was just an extra in the plan-- but the options were running dry.

We were approaching the truck as he slid the doors open and pushed me on my back on the floor of the car. He took his knife out and my body froze. He pushed his body against mine and held the knife to my throat. This was it. I don't know what to do at this poin-

"I know you're trying to escape." He said and my whole body drained of all heat. "No-" "Don't lie." He sighed contently, throwing the knife to the side of my body and pushed himself off of me.

"Huh-" "I'm on your side, hyung." He stepped over me and into the back of the truck where he sat down and stretched out on the black leather seat. “Jeno Hyung, fighting!” his fist was raised in triumph that had my mind doing back flips.

I sat up and looked back at him. "Yuta hired me a while ago-" I got in and slammed the door shut. "Who the hell are you? How do you know that name?" I grabbed the knife and held it up to his relaxed figure.

"Well to the Seven Stars I'm known as, 'Chanhyun', but my real name is Sungchan. I swear I'm on your side, please don't hurt me." His arms came up to his head where he was begging for mercy, "How?" I asked and he cautiously unzipped his jacket and lifted his black shirt to reveal the same dragon I had tattooed on my bicep-- now covered by scar tissue.

"But you also have a seven stars allegiance tatto-" "It was authorized by Yuta. It's not even in the right place. Yuta said I could cover it once I return to the base." He tried moving the knife away and I obliged slightly, still holding it firmly in my fist. "How can I be super sure?" His eyes raked the surrounding area and he leaped for his backpack in the driver seat. He rummaged around for a couple of seconds before pulling out a pill bottle. "What's that?" I asked as I motioned to the bottle with the blade.

"Jisung's anxiety medication." My mouth subconsciously dropped. "I've been giving it to him crushed up in his food. I figured out you were finally getting the courage to escape so I've been carrying it along in hopes that I was around when you finally got the chance." He pushed it into my hand so I could examine it closer. It really was Jisung's medication.

"It's been 5 minutes. They should be out already." Sungchan motioned up to the 12th floor where there would be a pile of bodies in front of a thick metal door.

"You-" My head felt dizzy as I was trying to trust him. How'd he know- "I know a lot of things Jeno...that's why Yuta picked me." His voice seemed so inviting and a source of safeness. "You're coming with me," I said and he nodded. "Of course, but I'm going to back off and act like you ran. Just in case the others got any ideas while we left." I backed off and opened the sliding door, running back to the building and up the stairs without a second thought. "Get back here!" Sungchan's voice turned back into the malice tone I remembered oh so dearly.

I ran all the way to the incessant screaming I hate hearing. I arrived and all the bodies were scattered along the floor. Every single one of them was knocked out.

I went around and kicked every single one of their bodies as I felt Sungchan's presence in the doorway. "I'll watch over. Get him out." Sungchan pleaded as I walked to the door with a knife and pill bottle in hand. "Jisung, it's me." I announced my presence but the screams didn't let up as I put my shirt on my mouth to stop the chemicals.

"It's so dark." His screams broke my heart as I wanted to just open the door for him, but he had to be the one to do it.

"Jisung. Only you can open the door." I said calmly but the cries didn't calm. "No one is left. We actually have one of our guys here." I whispered and I couldn't help the tears from springing into my eyes. "We're not alone. He's going to-" I put my forehead against the door in a sudden wave of relief, "he's going to help us." I couldn't help the smile building under my shirt.

"You're never going to have to get in bed with any other person anymore-- you just have to open the door." I could hear his cries calm down and the lock begin to jingle as he was fumbling with it. "Pull the triangle to the left and you'll be able to open the door-" "It's stuck!" He yelled and the heaving picked up quicker and quicker as the seconds were ticking. I was losing him again.

"Jisung-ah. You have to concentrate for me. Take a deep breath and just play with the triangle a little more. More jingling and I was losing hope. I started to pull on the door as I heard Sungchan approaching.

He set his own gun down and began pulling with me. "Jisung just grab the lock and push as hard as you can." I yelled and all of a sudden I was sent reeling back onto the ground with Sungchan right next to me.

A disheveled Jisung walked into the moonlight lit room with tear streaks running down his face-- disappearing under his mask. I scrambled to my feet as he threw himself onto me. "I hate you so much." He cried but I could only laugh.

"Love you too, Jwi." I held him close. "We need to get out of this room. It has chemicals in it." I ushered him out of the room with Sungchan trailing loosely. "Here." I pushed the pill bottle into Jisung's hands.

He didn't waste time in taking a singular pill with no chaser-- the want for no nervousness clouding his mind.

"Who is that?" Jisung asked quietly as he looked to Sungchan. "He's a friend. Yuta hired him." I looked to Sungchan and pointed to his ribs where he lifted his shirt so Jisung could see his dragon tattoo. "Are you sur-" "He's the one who brought your pills." I cut off Jisung's worry, not wanting to think about the circumstances more.

"I was hired to find Mark and y/n. Now, my mission is to deliver you both to Mark and y/n and get you away from seven stars custody." Sungchan began walking down the stairs. Jisung and I following diligently.

"Kun and Renjun are being looked over by Shotaro-" "But we didn't see him at the base-" "He changed his appearance. Stopped tanning and started using BB cream...wonders what makeup can do." Sungchan's smile could be heard as he talked. He was smooth and trusting. I just had a good feeling about him.

"After all, he's the one who beat Renjun to make sure that you all didn't leave at once. The whole of South Korea would've been littered with Seven Stars associates looking for the 4 of you." A strange feeling cascaded through my body, "He's the one who hurt-" "Who saved the 4 of you from a painful death because you didn't think out your plan entirely? The one who is the cause of Renjun's pain yet salvation? The one who has been slipping Renjun antibiotics?" We reached the bottom floor and Sungchan turned around.

"A blissful ending is the product of a painful process." He smiled at both of us. Jisung and I looked at each other and had no choice but to conclude that Sungchan was right. "Kun and Renjun already know where you two are and where you'll be going." He continued to the car.

"I want to drive." I cut him off and he shrugged. "Fine with me, I can ride in the back if that makes you more comfo-" "Jisung will ride in the back. He needs rest. You'll be giving me directions." I told him what would be happening as he handed me the keys. "No problem." He smiled and opened the back doors for Jisung who hesitantly got in. "There's a blanket in my bag." Sungchan pointed to his bag that once held Jisung's medication. Jisung nodded and sat on the floor comfortably.

I got in and started the car quickly, Sungchan getting in next to me.

"I can also answer any questions you have about any of the other guys." The friendly boy offered as he buckled himself in. "Chenle." Jisung jumped in between the 2 front seats with eagerness.

"He's alive. He's...suffering from the same things you were going through...but he's surviving." Sungchan calmed Jisung's fears the best he could. "He's back at the base with the rest of the elites." Sungchan looked at me. "Jaemin is there." Sungchan looked me in the eyes. "He's looking over Chenle, and...doing a very...good job of it." Sungchan chuckled lightly.

My hands dropped from the wheel and into my lap. "And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked and Sungchan looked at me for a moment. "Well, a couple of weeks ago, Chenle was bought for...the night..." Sungchan cleared his throat, "and when one of the associates went to retrieve him from their room...Jaemin resorted to....biting....the associate." I cocked my eyebrow. "Why didn't he just punch-" "He was handcuffed because he kept burning, ‘Fuck You’ into the cafeteria walls." Sungchan sighed and Jisung's mouth hung open. "Sounds like Jae." I sighed and started driving.

~~~~

"Is Mark and y/n really still alive?" I asked as I saw that Jisung was sound asleep in the back of the truck.

"Yes. And doing quite well I should say." He yawned and I nodded as I took in the information. "How is Taeyong doing?" I sighed and Sungchan could only roll his eyes. "Let's just say he didn't get what he was promised." The younger boy curled up into his seat comfortably.

"Alright, just drop it." I shook my head. "I don't want to hear anything about that bastard even if it's his last words." I shook my head and readjusted in the driver's seat.

"If I may ask, hyung. Why is Taeyong like this?" Sungchan asked meekly. "I heard that he used to be such a wonderful man from what Yuta used to say." I took a long breath and looked back to see Jisung with his eyes still closed in serene peace.

"Everything started on a mission...a mission gone terribly wrong." I looked over to Sungchan to see him listening eagerly.

"I was the only Junior Force allowed to go. It was Me, Taeyong, Mark, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Jungwoo, and Lucas." I repeated the details I had sketched into my mind.

"Mark and Taeyong told all the other elites, 'Whatever happens-- do not come to help us.' And boy was that the worst thing they have ever said." I chuckled. "But everyone agreed and went to bed not expecting anything to happen." I nodded, knowing that this was the exact moment that changed all of our lives.

"We walked into a trap. They were already waiting for us in the warehouse. Snipers from the roofs, men on the ceilings with knives, men in masks grabbed us and Mark was the only one to put up a fight." I felt a rush of blush as I realized I had admitted that I was a wimp-out that night.

"We were stripped down to our bare clothes. Strapped down to wooden chairs in this dirt room with ceilings that were so high I couldn't see them through my tears." My head shook at the painful memories. "We all looked to Taeyong for guidance. For help...for the faith that we weren't going to die," I couldn't help but let a sad laugh escape my chest, "and he choked. He told us to sit still-- to not go against him even though he wasn't giving us anything to go against." Sungchan had a frown of what looked like disappointment.

"Mark was pissed. He was rocking in his chair when he happened to fall over and become free. "Taeyong told him not to move but Mark...Mark wanted to live. Not be a sitting duck waiting for death to come to him. That crazy-ass actually propelled the whole wall with his shoe as a claw and escaped out of the top window." Sungchan's jaw fell in shock. "No way." "Yes, way." I nodded.

"He said he ran all the way to headquarters, hit the alarm, and gathered everyone for help. Came up with a plan and came back to save us." I smiled, "While he was gone, I and the rest were put through absolute hell. The enemies tried cutting our allegiance tattoos off." The scarred tissue burned as I recalled the most excruciating pain I have ever felt.

"2 days later, Mark lead the entire Neo Culture Family through the enemy's front doors and laid everyone on their asses. He retrieved us and we returned to base. We were taken care of and then it came up that Taeyong was mad at Mark. Mad at Mark for saving him." I rolled my eyes.

"Taeyong was mad that Mark went against his orders...his orders that would've killed us." I got unnecessarily pissed. "Ever since then, Taeyong has hated Mark. He kicked Mark out and the Junior Forces went with him. Then we were allowed back but y/n-- who tried to bring everyone back together was exiled along with Mark. Jaemin tried to go retrieve them because Taeyong said he would allow them back because he lied on paperwork blah blah blah. Turns out Taeyong staged their deaths so we thought they were dead, so, now, no one else believes that they're alive...and here we are." I nodded at the conclusion.

“So...Taeyong caused all of this because he was...insecure?” Sungchan whispered the last word. “Basically. Mark says that there’s more to the story though. That’s why he left. He admitted he screw up. He should’ve listened to Taeyong as he is head boss...but Mark said that some more stuff happened that he never shared with anyone...more or less shared with me, honestly.” I sighed and let the younger boy regather his thoughts.

"This...is a very dysfunctional family." Sungchan drew the equation himself with an uneasy laugh. "But, we're still family." I smiled and he couldn't argue with that.

"Now a question for you, Sungchan: Why did Yuta actually hire you?"

"Oh. Yeah." Sungchan laughed a little as he sat in his seat regularly again.

"Yuta was the one who gave Taeyong the idea to sell the family."

100 notes · View notes

cadence-talle · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.)

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!)

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting.

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts!

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé.

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag!

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.”

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.”

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.”

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.”

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.”

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.”

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts.

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.”

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter.

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her.

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving.

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans.

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I didn’t-”

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses.

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!”

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her.

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter.

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble.

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?”

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont.

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory.

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it.

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund.

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.”

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie.

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more.

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.”

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel.

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are

I know you only do that to annoy me.

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize.

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster.

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side.

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.”

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.”

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother?

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.”

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves.

“You’re even prettier in person.”

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.”

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks.

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.”

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.”

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.”

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.”

Fitz nods. “Neat.”

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze.

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker.

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?”

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too.

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances.

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs.

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.”

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.”

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.”

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans.

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up.

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND.

“Cookies,” he announces.

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place.

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti.

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile.

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up.

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.”

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red.

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number.

415-623-7868

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.)

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good.

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet.

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up.

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven.

What on earth was that.

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?”

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.”

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile.

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep.

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp.

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.”

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs.

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak.

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods.

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers.

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air.

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is.

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod.

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.”

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back.

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus.

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for.

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Dex can’t sleep.

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something.

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty.

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them.

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it.

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.”

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you.

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter.

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head.

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time.

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering.

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.”

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs.

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.”

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.”

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.”

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins.

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing.

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it.

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again.

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room.

What the fuck was that.

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.”

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex.

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that.

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him.

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off.

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it.

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve.

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder.

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is.

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win.

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug.

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment.

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.”

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss.

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods.

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.”

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother.

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her.

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape.

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing.

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it.

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing.

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.”

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.”

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests.

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-”

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days.

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans.

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously.

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.”

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him.

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.”

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up.

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look.

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.”

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?”

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch.

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing.

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?”

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.”

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm.

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?”

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony.

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what.

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say.

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge.

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness.

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes.

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten!

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little.

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin.

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet.

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City.

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

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