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shibarirobot · 4 years ago

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Aizawa fic - CH3 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

CH1

CH2

!!TW!! mentions of abuse, trauma, blood

Above are the links to the first two chapters, but for those that just want to get to it, I will briefly summarize. The main character here(who I choose to keep very nondescript so anyone can enjoy this, that may change as things get more physical between them and our hero. I will continue using they/them pronouns for this, but I have lady parts and will probably end up using those words.) is a villain that has just stolen information, fought Aizawa and made an escape to a roof where they fought with a member of their crew and Maybe(?) probably killed them.

Thank you for reading!

Enjoy! x

Sirens blare behind me as cops start to arrive at the scene. I pull the hood on my jacket up over my head and dip around the corner. I hadn’t tried to stick around long enough for them to show up, but left without a quick way off the roof after tossing that damn bat off the side, I had to take the stairs. It was a long way down, but the stairwell was entirely connected all the way to the ground floor, I would have been seriously pissed off if I had to find multiple sets of stairs. My face is mostly obscured by my hood, but I look down everytime a random citizen passes by. I can never be too careful about being seen.

I reach into my pocket and feel for my marble, my anxiety is rising quickly as a group of four teen girls walks towards me on the sidewalk. I almost freak out when my pocket turns up empty, but then I remember that I threw it, that it’s the only reason I’m still walking free. This brings me slight peace before I hear giggling and sneer to myself. High schoolers. I look at their uniforms, even better, hero students. I pull the drawstrings on my hood and it scrunches around my face, hiding me further. Anonymity isn’t the only reason I prefer not to be seen, but it’s the most self preserving reason, the one that makes the most sense. The other is because I’m afraid. Afraid of what they could say, of what they could think. I’ve heard it all, but it never fails to sting a little when the unfiltered truth of others thoughts wash over me.

Weirdo. What. A. Freak.

OMG what are they wearing?

Damn, why do I always have to walk on the outside? Don’t you all care at all if I get grabbed?

Please don’t rob us, please don’t rob us.

Look away. Just look away.

I pull the drawstrings tighter and walk slightly faster, trying to push their thoughts from my brain, but failing grandly as all I can focus on is how much I don’t fit in, how little the rest of the world cares for people that don’t fit in the cookie cutter mold of societal expectations. The girls are having a light hearted conversation amongst themselves as I pass by, a complete confliction to the sour, curdled thoughts that had just slipped out. My eyes are glued to my feet as I take one step after the other, my legs feel like lead as I fight the urge to scream at them and silence their brain functions. I’m so focused on getting myself away from those girls that I barely register the man walking in front of me, talking loudly on the phone. I thump into his back, my eyes still strained down at the tips of my boots. He looks down at me, surprised. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the shock as his words falter into the phone mic.

Woah. All black, huh?

Trying to avoid a conflict, I duck to the side and mutter a curt ‘sorry’ below my breath, already shuffling off. He reaches out to me though, reaching for my shoulder. “Hey, wait. Sorry to bump into y-”

I jerk away without looking. “Don’t touch me… please.” I cough the pleasantry out, it’s hard to hold myself back when all I want to do is swear at him and rip his eyes from his skull, knowing full well this is only a minor inconvenience, not a stopping block for me. I slightly turn my head, looking up at him out of one eye, he looks down at me, stunned.

Wait… Is this the one?

Who is this man? He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s got long blonde hair, pulled into a simple ponytail and a goatee that makes him look like he still thinks the year is 2008. My eyes fall back to my feet as I take quick paces away from him. I don’t know him, but it seems like he might know me, which is definitely a bad sign. My anxiety swells again as I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. This really can’t be good. I can still feel him watching me as I retreat, but his focus shifts back to his phone as someone yells on the other end of the receiver. “Yah, yah! I’m right around the corner. Get off my back, Shouta… I said I’m right around the corner! … No! I’m not in ‘uniform’, it’s my day off!” I let my anxiety roll off my shoulders as I get farther away from him and can no longer hear his shouting. I’m not sure why he threw me off so much, but I’m happy to be crossing the street and leaving his line of vision, turning an extra corner, just to be safe. I can’t afford anyone following me right now.

I’m still a bit rattled as I step down the stairs to the underground train tunnels. The tunnels are old, abandoned years ago after a train derailed and collapsed several tunnels. There were so many casualties, they shut down the entire train system after that, but by then technology had become so advanced compared to the subway that they didn’t even bother rebuilding. The city just closed off the tunnel entrances to the public. Citizens and tourists still come down to the platforms to take pictures and read plaques about the deceased. It’s ridiculous really. They didn’t know any of the people that died, had no connection to them, they would have no clue about the lives lost here if it hadn’t been all over the news. What the news wouldn’t tell the unsuspecting audience of sheep, is that it was actually a hero that crashed the train. The media told the world that a minor earthquake had derailed the train, which was only partially true. A minor earthquake had caused the crash, but a hero had caused the earthquake. A hero was the direct cause of so many shortened lives, innocent and corrupt alike, all dead within seconds. The media just swept that under the rug, not a single news coverage even mentioned his name as they described the tragedy. He continued his hero work as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t murdered the very people he vowed to protect, as if he wasn’t the sole reason those people died. My sister was among those lost. She wasn’t my only family, but the only one I liked, the only one that made life even bearable. A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away in frustration, no time for emotions. No time for tears. No time to let myself wallow, because I know once I start on that path, I’ll never stop. I’ll cry until I can’t breathe, until my eyes are swollen shut, until my lungs give out. So I cut myself short. No tears.

The platform is empty when I reach the tracks, the silence echoing. This is the only place I’m free of everyone else’s trilling thoughts buzzing in my brain, the thick concrete walls jamming their signal from getting to me. I release a long awaited sigh, the anxiety finally subsiding and leaving a slight hunger in my stomach. I had been so worked up I forgot to get food. I pull the hood off my head and hop down onto the tracks, walking them like a balance beam, a habit I picked up in my free time. At this point, I don't even put my hands out at my sides. I’ve done this so much, I’m sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I do close my eyes, basking in the complete silence that surrounds me. Silence that reminds me of the moments I was fighting Eraser Head, the moments where he took my quirk and my head was actually empty. Even now it’s not quite like that, there’s still a ringing in my ears and a hum in the back of my head like static over a radio channel. It’s never been completely quiet inside my head, it only ever fades to background noise, not like when I was with him, when he was staring at me so intensely. I know it’s because he couldn’t look away, because of his quirk, but part of it made me feel… wanted. No one has ever looked at me like that, with such incredible intensity in their eyes. I shake my head, feeling crazier than usual. There’s no way he could want me, no way that I’m not just pushing my own desires onto his actions, no way that I’m not just famished for someone to hold me in their arms like he had held me in his scarf.

Now I know I’m acting foolish. His scarf? Really? He was attacking me, he was fighting me, he’s a hero goddammit. I should be hating him and working up ways to bring his demise, but instead I’m thinking about what it would be like to see him without his hostility, to watch his face as he slept, to see tears trail down his face, to see him begging on his knees. I want to see his vulnerability, surprisingly, without any intention of exploiting it. I just want to see him. I have to see him. I look down and realize I’m pacing. I shake myself again and head for a service tunnel that I’ve commandeered to become my little hideout. It’s really not much, but it’s all mine and 100% off the grid. Maintenance personnel don't even come down here. I’m completely alone and I love it. No prying eyes, no unwanted thoughts, just me and the cold concrete. It’s heavenly.

I moved down here full time a few months after my sister died and it became clear that no one was fixing up the tunnels. My biological carrier, the woman I refuse to call my mother, had begun drinking immediately. Not that she was a stranger to alcohol before, but it had only gotten worse. Her drunk thoughts quickly became her sober thoughts and all of them had to do with me. Why my sister had died instead of me, why she was the one that had to be stuck with me, why she had to have been cursed with such a freakish child. One that cried all the time, one that split her head in two when they had a tantrum, one that couldn't even be put into daycare to protect the other children, one that put her husband in a vegetative state. I became nothing more than a burden to her, if there was any part of her that still loved me, loved me like a mother is supposed to, it was buried deeper in her mind than even I could find.

The mental abuse wasn’t what broke me though, the neglect hadn’t done it either. It was the night she made me beg. She had drunk so much that I felt drunk, felt drunk off the vertigo thoughts she was pulsing out into the room. She stumbled into my room, slurring speech and telling me how ungrateful I was to have someone like her that would take such good care of me. I should have known better, should have been quiet like usual, but I scoffed at that. The wench barely even knew how to take care of herself, the notion honestly tickled me. That did her in. She lunged at me and threw me to the floor, smacking me in the face once on both cheeks. She rolled off of me and left the room as drunkenly as she had come in. I just layed there and cried, hoping she was done, but knowing she wasn’t. I heard the door creak and felt her grab me by the hair, shoving me into a dining chair. The confusion must have been evident on my face, because she hit me again and made quick work of tying me to the wooden chair. She left me there, tied up, for days. She made me beg for food. Beg for water. Beg to be cleaned after I had pissed myself. She made me apologize for everything I had ever done. She made me admit I was a monster, one that hurt people for fun, because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t control my quirk. I can see now how that narrative would be easier for her to stomach, having a person to blame instead of accepting the shitty facts of reality, but I was her child. I had been pure. She was supposed to love me, protect me.

I stop walking, letting my renewed hatred for that woman settle on my shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket. Resolve hardening my heart and warping the soft emotions I had just been there. I heave a sigh and reach into my jacket pocket again, feeling the flashdrive from before. This is what I need. File upon file of precious documents and information right here in the palm of my hand, information that now exists nowhere else.

I start walking again, exhausted from today's events. There had been so many close calls. I’m still reeling from a couple of them, my head still not on fully straight. I make it to my little pad and flop down on the mattress I have tucked away in the corner. I unzip my boots and massage my feet a little, pulling them into my lap to sit lotus style. My laptop had been haphazardly tossed into my bed, so I reach over and plug it into the charging cable snaking from the wall, also pushing the little flashdrive into the side port and letting all the documents download. I curl into a ball on my mattress and flop to the side, I’m so tired and so hungry, I’m not sure what to do. I have no food here so I'm going to have to go back up to the surface level, but it’s still too light out, I’ll wait until the sun has fully set then go stop by a street vendor. In the meantime however, I treat myself to a nap. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyes were until my head hit the soft material of my bed.

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but I wake up to my computer beeping. The download is complete. I smile to myself and close the laptop, removing the flashdrive from the side, again not bothering to eject it. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my hands over my entire face and into my hair, fully waking myself up some more. I look down at myself, still in my full clothes and sigh, I guess I had been far more tired than I thought. My mind drifts to the dream I was having before my eyes had peeled back open. I only really dream when I sleep hard, which isn’t often since I’ve basically ruined my REM cycles. In my dream, I was with Eraser Head again, but this time we weren’t fighting, not really. He still had me caught in that damn capture weapon, but I was completely naked, my body exposed at all the right points for him to reach out and grab me, hit me, bite me. The memory of how his scarf felt against my skin heats up my face, my body clenching tightly. How does he still do this to me? He’s not even near me.

I run a hand down my neck, trying to calm myself. I can’t get all riled up because of some hero. Can I? Another flash from my dream breaks through to the forefront of my mind. Eraser Head has me by the jaw, his mouth so close to mine I would be able to feel his breath on my lip if it had been real. That’s when he sensually licks my plush bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down softly, just enough to drive me crazy. Just enough for me to want more, to feel it in real life. I yell and pound my fist into the mattress. GET!! IT!! TOGETHER!! I launch myself onto my feet, tugging on my boots, determined to get his imagined ministrations out of my mind. I still need to eat anyway. The hunger tugging on my stomach and making it growl loudly, protesting the nap that had zapped away the rest of my evening. I look at my watch and groan, it's already past 9pm.

I head back down the service tunnel that leads to my little crash pad, there’s a small, unpopular ramen stand I like to go to when it’s late. It's not the best bowl of ramen in the world, but it gets the job done and I’m not too picky when it comes to noodles in warm broth. The stand is right outside one of the stairwells into the underground platforms. The lights from the neon sign flicker dimly, it reads ‘OPEN to Business’. I slink down onto one of the stools and drop my money onto the counter, ordering a beef bowl. The man on the other side of the counter pours the broth and cuts vegetables before serving me the bowl with a small bow of his head. I return his formality before delving into the bowl. The soup smells better than usual, or maybe I’m just insanely hungry, either way the first bite leaves me melting into the bowl, hunched over, consuming the food at such a rate it would appear as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I hit the bottom of the white bowl in record time and slam down a few coins demanding more. The chef raises his eyebrow, but complies, almost over filling another bowl for me.

Hungry, ha? Good! Eat more!

I smile at him, actually warmed by his slight kindness, but it is soon forgotten as I begin slurping down noodles, beef, and cooked vegetables. I finish the second bowl almost as quickly as the first and slouch back, patting my very full belly. I was definitely hungrier than I realized. I sigh, content and sluggish as I slide off the side of the stool. I can’t help the light feeling in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets. The moon is high in the sky and the night air is cool on my cheeks, it’s almost serene. I decide to take a little stroll, there’s another entrance to the platform a few blocks down, connecting to the other side of the service tunnel. I start my walk with casual steps, I’m not in a rush and I just want to breathe in the fresh air a little bit longer. There’s an empty orange soda can on the ground and I kick it with the inside of my foot, sending it skittering forward a few paces, stopping in a perfect place for me to kick it again. I continue kicking the can along with me as I walk, until I kick it a little too hard and it goes tumbling down into a storm drain. I shrug and round a corner, the can just a distraction anyways, something to fiddle with. I reach into my pocket and forget again that my marble isn't there. A prickle of nerves climbs up my arm and to the back of my neck, making my hair follicles stand on end.

Suddenly alert, I tense my shoulders and scan the area, looking above me as well this time, I won’t be taken out from the rooftops again, but still I see nothing. The air around me has shifted. It’s no longer peaceful and delicate, it’s eerie and cold, sending a shiver through me again, the anxiety making me even more jumpy as I hear little sounds around me. Nothing out of the ordinary, city sounds, but it all gets to me, sending my heart rate in an upward spike. I start to run, unsure of where to go. I can feel someone, but where? It’s driving me crazy. I know there’s someone. I know it, but the absolute lack of a presence is what’s really fucking me up. An ubiquitous white flash darts out at me from the dark. I dodge quickly, leaning back so far my head barely misses slamming into the concrete below me. There’s another flash and I throw my legs out from underneath me, catching myself in a near handstand before flinging myself backwards again, still unsure of where the flashes are coming from.

Before I can land back on my feet, I see it, a dark figure blur by me from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what or who it is, but my first instinct is to whip around and try to use my quirk, still only barely sure of the figure’s location. When I spin around, I’m immediately bombarded by two sensations. First, is the clarity in my brain that only comes when Eraser Head is muting my quirk. The second, is the heat that grows in my stomach when I realize exactly who I’m up against. My chest flushes, and my thoughts flash back to my dream, the way he had halfway kissed me. That’s all the distraction he needs to scoop me up in his capture weapon and have me dangling upside down from the nearest street pole.

Seeing him from this angle is different as the blood starts to rush to my head, making me feel dizzy. I thrash around a little, to no avail, before allowing myself to give up, feeling too sluggish from my meal anyways. Even if I manage to get out of this coil I could barely expect to actually get away. Eraser Head slowly saunters up to my upside down body, rocking from side to side, he looks menacing and my body clenches tight again. Gezzus fuck, this man is hot. “You wanted to see me again. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He pulls the goggles covering his eyes up unto his forehead and I can see his whole face. There’s a scar underneath his eye that I hadn’t seen before, it marks his skin beautifully and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like with the fresh wound, blood running down his face. I bet it was gorgeous. He’s a striking figure on his own, but covered in blood? I gulp heavily, the downward gravity making it hard. Eraser bends his knees, squatting down so we’re on an even eye level, his are still glowing red and I’m reeling from the proximity. He’s so close. He’s right there. I could reach out and grab him if my arms weren’t strung up to my sides.

I can’t touch him, but he’s still close enough for me to throw my head back, letting the momentum force me back down to collide my skull with his. I hear a crunch and feel warm blood trickle up my face from my nose, it's in my mouth too. Eraser stumbles back, not prepared for a headbutt. It’s true what they say, no one wins in a headbutt, but it feels like a win as I see a small trail of blood coming from his forehead, it’s so much hotter that it’s my blood. He looks even better than I had imagined, of course he does. My skull is pulsing already and my quirk is returned to me as he tries to steady himself. He does, quicker than I had hoped. My head is still splitting and I don't have enough time to regain myself before he’s taking my quirk again. Damn, he’s good. I chuckle to myself, licking the blood from my lips. This is actually kind of fun. Eraser Head looks down at me again, gripping my hair tightly now to keep me from moving again. His eyes are wild, his jaw tight. It’s taking all of him not to beat the living shit out of me. I can tell.

Then his expression changes and he looks mischievous, teasing even. The slight confusion I have is short lived before he yanks my head forward, my neck craned at an awkward angle to look directly up at him. “My turn.” He says, dropping my head so I’m swinging back and forth again, only able to see him every couple seconds. He takes a step back and I see him poise himself for a second, spinning into a roundhouse kick that connects with my temple and knocks me out cold.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

THINGS ARE DEF GONNA START HEATING UP FROM HERE!!!! stay tuned hehe XD

#bro this is getting dangerous #I cant keep defending myself #things are getting hot in the kitchen #mr aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha x reader #fan fic author #fan fic #my hero fanfic #eraser head #pro hero eraserhead #villian #x reader #bnha oc #my ocs

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starrysupercell · 4 years ago

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Heavily based off of @aroacenita's headcanon post, about Belle and Byron's sibling status and background. In honor of the Gold Arm Gang Season starting today, and Belle's debut.

Warning: slightly heavier than what I've written before. But not much detail, just implications really.

--------

"If you don't shape up, young lady, what future will you even have?" A male voice scolded.

"Anything I want, I guess." She said, off handedly.

"Oh, why can't you behave more like your brother?" That was their mother, she sounded so distraught. "Why can't you be well-mannered like he is?

A scoff, "Oh that'd be perfect, wouldn't it? A flawless replica of you."

"What's with you and thinking we're just controlling you-?"

"Because that's exactly what you're doing!" She exclaimed, "Why do you think I don't want to dress up, and go out to social gatherings and 'leave a nice impression for the gentlemen?'" She air-quoted. "You've always dragged me along, and I'm sick of it!"

"Now don't be ridiculous, Belle." Their mother said. "When you were little, you loved dressing up and coming along with me to places."

"You forced me when I was little, and you're still trying to now! And now you're forcing him too! Do you honestly believe this is okay!?"

"We aren't forcing anything on you two. Studying is a must. You're only being dramatic, Belle."

"This more than just the damned studying! I'm talking about everything! I'm not stupid. I know your tricks--!"

Byron heard a smack, and he flinched where he stood outside the closed door, eavesdropping.

"You watch how you talk to your mother." Came the stern, simple command.

There was a stunned silence, and then hurried steps to the door. Byron ducked away further down the hall out of sight.

Belle passed by, a hand on her cheek. Her long black hair trailed behind her as she hurried away, and stomped up the stairs to retreat to her room.

"God, what are we going to do with her?" Byron overheard. "I have no clue.... she's beyond all reason."

"...Do you think that school will be able to handle her? What an embarrassment it's be if she's expelled from there...."

"...." The younger kid frowned, unsure of what to make of what he was hearing, and then slunk away.

_________

The tears shed were anger more than anything. Humiliation and outrage made her bury her face in the pillow she hugged now.

She could just hear their criticism. 'How unbecoming. Dry your face. You look highly unpresentable.'

They've been trying to mold them into perfect cookie cutter shapes since they were little. She hated it, and fought it because that wasn't her.

But sometimes... she miserably wracked her brain over what else she could pursue. She's been corralled into this lifestyle against her will, Maybe... her parents were right..? She should just... accept it?

She would just conform to this sense of defeat.

There was a knock on the door.

"Leave!" She barked, not caring if it was a serviceman, definitely either of her parents, or...

"It's me." Byron.

She paused. "What do you want?"

"May I enter?"

She sat up, annoyed. "For what? Go away, you brat."

"I brought chips."

"...." Belle wiped her face, and compromised to herself that if Byron even mentioned her red eyes, he was being kicked out. She stood, and walked over to the door. He was leaning against it, and stumbled at the sudden entrance, but quickly fixed himself.

'Nosy,' she thought, and snatched the bag he offered. "You sneak," she commented, looking over the bag. "They don't allow junk food like this."

"It's great for bribery." He smiled, walking past Belle. Case in point.

Belle opened the bag, and grabbed a handful. She smirked and rose her voice into the 'proper speak' she was taught. "Oh! Preposterous! How greasy! This will smear the walls and fatten one up in a mere hour!" She snickered and bit into the chips, making some crumble and fall onto the carpeted floor.

Byron thought the mess itself was quite distasteful, but decided that it was well deserved. Besides... that did sound like their mother. He also laughed along.

---

She hated her hair. It was waist length, got in the way, tangled easy, and when it was loose, windy days were the worst.

Like right now. She couldn't even sit on the roof without it going wild.

'But proper women have long hair.' Oh, whatever. Proper women have it shitty then.

Belle sighed. There was around a month left before she'd be shipped off like the porcelain doll they wanted her to be. A month until her 18th birthday. A month until...

"Are you going to jump?" She heard. She looked up with irritation to the balcony outside of Byron's room, where he stood.

"No, dumbass." She told him.

Byron's look of concern turned to a very offended one. "Mom says cursing isn't becom..."

"Mom says cursing isn't becoming," she interrupted him to mock. "Yeah, I know. I've heard it before, you wuss." She looked back out to their vast yard, hoping he'd either leave or shut up.

Byron frowned, glaring at the top of her head.

"Being angry only hinders your thoughts," she snarked again, just as insulting a tone. "Since you can only have one at a time, you should listen to that." Byron narrowed his eyes down at her and he went back to his room.

About time.... Belle lost herself back in her thoughts. The sun was starting to set. A month left to plan. Unless her parents suddenly began to care, nobody was none the wiser to her plot. She was going to get out of here.

Unbeknownst to her, Byron walked back out quietly with a beaker filled with some concoction from his chemistry set at hand. It was harmless, but he had gloves on and his nose covered with his other hand for a reason. He leaned over the balcony and tipped out the contents over his jerkish sister. "Ugh! You little shit!! What even is this!?" She exclaimed in disgust.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were still out here." Byron said with a shrug. "I guess you didn't know that rooftops aren't for people to lay on. Dunce." He said, stepping back now as Belle angrily scaled the tiles. He miscalculated her speed, because she managed to reach him and grabbed his sleeve. He pulled back. "Let go of me!" He struggled to get away. There was a ripping sound and he stumbled back in surprise. Belle nearly fell forward too, but she clung to the railing. Byron ducked back inside to the safety of his room, sticking out his tongue at her.

Belle fumed, using the sleeve to wipe at least some of the disgusting-smelling chemical off, and then chucked it at his glass door.

____________

The week of her birthday, Belle feigned innocence. She apologized, and dressed well and "came to terms" with their final decision.

"I'm so happy that you're finally listening to reason." Her mother fawned over her, stroking the cheek that had been struck some time ago. "It makes me feel proud to have a daughter."

"Hmm," their father said. "It's about time."

Byron stayed quiet. Something was off, but it was rude to speak out of turn, and unwise to fling unproven accusations.

The night before she was set to get on the plane, Belle was ready. She packed everything she could into a single backpack. She didn't want to take too much. It would slow her down and she needed to get as far away as she could in a few hours.

The last thing she wanted to do was leave a written message. Not for her parents- they deserved no goodbye. No, it was for... Byron.

The problem was, she didn't know how to say it. She read over what she's written so far.

*Sorry for leaving you with them. I just couldn't bear it any longer. You need to wise up too, Byron. Don't let them brainwash you, okay? Get out of here when you can. Later.*

...It didn't feel right. He wouldn't agree with what she had to say. He would see it as an insult. This was somehow a lot more difficult than deciding to leave. ...She didn't 'have' to leave a note, did she? Belle sighed in frustration.

She tore the paper to remove the message and was left with a scrap piece. She balled up the message and shoved it in her pocket. Using the smaller piece, she scrawled out her message and got up. All she had to do was drop this off, and then leave. She stepped out of her room.

The house was dark and quiet. She stepped lightly toward Byron's room. Sound asleep. She was simply going to leave the note, but then spotted that treasure pile of snacks. Darn it. It wasn't a part of her plan, but she couldn't resist. She lifted a bag of chips very carefully, and a twin pack of sweets for the road. She placed her little note down in place of those with held laughter, then left to return to her room.

She opened her window, and hoisted her pack over her shoulders. Next she picked up the fashioned rope she made of quality cloths to tie to her heavy bed.

Typical, sure, but this would make a lot less noise than stairs and doors. Plus, in this way she could ruin the many precious dresses and skirts she was made to wear on her way out.

She threw the long cord out and climbed out as it rolled down the slope and then over the edge. She treaded carefully over and stared down at the yard.

Almost there. Belle began to climb down. As she made her way down, the heavy anticipation she felt at her chest alleviated. She was doing this. She'd be free.

As her feet hit the ground, she had already decided. Come morning, the first thing she would do was get a haircut. Chop it as short as she always wanted it to be.

---

Byron always woke up early. This time around, he was awoken by the surprised exclamations of his parents.

"She's gone!"

"Really? Are you sure?"

"I went to make sure she was getting ready, and there was a rope of clothes out the window!"

Gone. She left.

He stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling in deep thought. Why didn't... she just listen? And stay... He would never understand her fighting at every turn.. nor his parents' subtle shift in their attitude toward him after that, like they almost expected him to do the same.

It'd be around two weeks later when he'd get a craving for a treat. They were intent on making sure he didn't even step out of line- he was ticked off.

The last package of his favorite dessert was gone, along with a bag of chips. Just a torn piece of paper was in its place.

"thanks, dumbass." was all it said.

Byron.... didn't know what to feel.

#Brawl Stars #Brawlstars #Belle #Byron #Goldarm Gang #Season 6 #Fanfiction #Writing #ask to tag #can someone talk in depth to me about byron and belle lol

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swarmishstrangers · 1 year ago

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Yeast Donuts:

4 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 tsp instant yeast

Mix all of these dry ingredients together

Add 1 1/2 cups milk + 1 large egg and then mix by hand first, then with a standmixer with a dough hook attachment, and mix on med-low speed until homogeneous (around 2 minutes.) Then cover bowl with plastic wrap and leave for 20 mins (this relaxes the dough.)

Add 1 1/2 tsps of salt and then mix on med-low speed for 5 mins until elastic. Cube 1 whole stick of butter (slightly softened) and gradually add in cubes as the dough continues, mixing on med-low speed for 7 mins. It should be smooth and elastic. (It's okay if it's sticky! If you worry that it's too sticky you can add in some small pinches of flour.) Then with no kneading, just ball the dough, place it back in the bowl, wrap up the top of the bowl with plastic wrap, and leave in fridge to proof overnight.

You should feel firm when taken out! On a lightly floured surface, begin to push and mold the dough into an 8 inch square. Lightly dust the top of the dough with flour and then with a rolling pin begin to roll out dough into 10-13 inch rectangle. Start to stamp out the doughnuts! (If you have circle biscuit cutters or circle cookie cutters, either work! I used cookie cutters.) Place the stamped doughnuts on a sprayed baking sheet and let them proof for 45-1 hour.

To fry use 2 quarts of veggie oil heated up to 300°F, it should be a simmer when placing doughnuts. When both sides of the doughnut are golden brown, then you're ready to fry up more!

Glaze:

1 Cup Confectioner's sugar

2 Tbsp milk

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

In a small bowl, combine all of the ingredients into a bowl and mix until smooth. If you want it to be thicker, you can wait and let cool for a few minutes, and it should thicken up.

Glazed donuts for my brekfas

#swarm-the-recipes #swarmspeaks #enjoy if you ever make it >:D

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candied-peach · 5 years ago

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ao3: “trick or treat” rating: T warnings: food, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus (mention), anxceit genre: fluff description: Virgil and Deceit make Halloween cookies. (look, i made it, it’s still halloween)

"Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange?"

Deceit barely stirs, lost in slumber, wrapped around his pillow.

"Come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween!"

Suddenly, his boyfriend jumps on him, startling him awake with a very loud, indignant hiss. He manages to roll over, spilling a laughing Virgil on his side, as he glares, his tongue outstretched in a firm blep.

"S-sorry," Virgil apologizes, still hiccuping with laughter. "You just- you wouldn't wake up, and it's almost time."

"Time?" Deceit murmurs in tired confusion, before memory hits. "Oh, yeah. That time."

"Cookies!" Virgil says in excitement, clapping his hands. "I got the recipe from Patton."

"Are you sure he didn't poison it?" Deceit asks. Virgil arches an eyebrow. "All right, all right," Deceit groans. "Out of bed, I get it." For all his protests as he clambers out of bed, a fond smile tips up the corner of his mouth.

The Dark Side kitchen is blissfully quiet this time of morning. Remus likes to sleep in most days (having stayed up half the night wreaking mayhem), and Halloween is no exception. Virgil has already laid out all the ingredients for Halloween sugar cookies, including the cookie cutter molds. Deceit inspects them. Orange pumpkins, purple bats, and two that stand out- a yellow, two-headed snake and a green octopus.

"I love it," Deceit says sincerely. Virgil beams. The glow of his smile settles warmly in the pit of Deceit's stomach, heating him from the inside out.

"So for this step," Deceit questions a little while later. "We pour all the flour in the mixer in one go, right?"

"No!" Virgil protests, lost in a fit of giggles. "Not if you don't want it to get everywhere and I am not cleaning up the entire kitchen again. Not after last time."

"I have no idea what you mean," Deceit says, pretending offense. Virgil wheezes at that, half bent over the counter.

"That's a bad lie, even for you," Virgil says. Deceit smirks, then swiftly leans across the counter and dabs a bit of the forming cookie dough on the end of Virgil's nose.

"You have something there," Deceit says, pointing helpfully to the offending spot. Virgil huffs, going cross-eyed in an attempt to see it, and that makes Deceit laugh, ungloved hand over his chest.

"Here, I'll get rid of it," Deceit promises, conciliatory. He stalks over to Virgil, looms over him (as well as he can, when his boyfriend is technically taller than him), then-

Sticks out his tongue and licks the offending cookie dough away, tasting it with a happy expression on his face.

"Dee!" Virgil exclaims. "You aren't supposed to eat raw cookie dough!"

"No, Thomas isn't supposed to eat raw cookie dough," Deceit rebuts, unphased. "We are Sides. It doesn't matter if we do."

"Yes, but-" Virgil stops, then shrugs. "Fine," he concedes. Deceit grins smugly.

"Let's get back to these cookies," he says. They work in companionable silence until the cookies are in the oven.

"We did it," Deceit says, dramatically putting one hand over his forehead.

"Wasn't it terrifying?" Virgil takes up the thread, until they both dissolve into laughter.

"I suppose it's technically not done until they're out of the oven," Deceit admits.

"And we have a terrible track record," Virgil mumbles.

"Hey, at least two of those times were Remus's fault," Deceit protests. "I told him squid ink wouldn't make a good addition-"

"The squid ink was fine," Virgil retorts. "It was the battery acid I had a problem with."

"Well, there was that, too," Deceit says. "But it started with the squid ink."

"This time, they should be good," Virgil says, his hands in his hoodie pockets. "We just have to. Chill. Stay here. Listen for the timer."

"Not kiss your brains out," Deceit supplies helpfully.

"Not helping!" Virgil snaps, red climbing up his neck. "But er. Yes. That."

"Oh, fine," Deceit says. "Only because I actually want cookies this time. Not...charcoal. Or ashes. Whatever they ended up last year."

"Ashes is a good description," Virgil says, nodding.

"But after they're out," Deceit says, leaning over and murmuring in Virgil's ears. "I'm going to kiss you breathless." He grins, hearing Virgil's whine.

"Damn it, timer, would you go off already?!"

#🍬 txt #sanders sides #anxceit #romantic anxceit #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #halloween #baking #virgil #deceit #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #📚#ok to rb #peach writes #janus

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thrushpot · 5 years ago

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playing hooky

“Now a fun one... eleven and eighteen.” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove

#11: “We could get arrested for this.”

#18: “Watch me.” from dialogue prompts

warning(s): alcohol, swearing

a/n: i love these prompts so much. hope you dig it !

—

You swore that you knew better than this.

You’d like to think you were raised right and had enough self respect to not fall under peer pressure like everybody else always did in cheesy high school movies or real life. Maybe right now you’re about to ditch the so-called ‘good girl’ philosophy, or handbook or whatever the fuck it was, to be free from the constraints that high school labels always puts on girls like you. Those bullshit stereotypes about smart girls that actually care about grades and education, saying that they’re all just bummers with no experience that will never learn how to let loose. Well, you’re through with all of it. It felt as if there had always been this hidden lingering temptation that was just itching to be unleashed, it just needed the right push, from the right somebody.

When the very chief, cliché bad boy Billy Hargrove himself approached you himself in the halls on a regular soul-crushing Monday, you wanted to prove not only to him but also to yourself that you were not this cookie cutter mold of a person. You were just as capable of crazy as anybody else is. So fuck him for underestimating you, and double fuck him if he was gonna laugh in your face when you said so.

“Of course I know what it’s like to have fun,” you defend, pointing your finger at him for emphasis at the arrogant blonde that had been ridiculing you far too long during passing periods at school everyday. He went further than usual today in particular, calling you ‘Plain Jane’ and ‘sugarpuss’ just to get a rise out of you, unknowingly setting off the ticking time bomb. “In fact, I’m the one who fucking invented fun, asshole.”

Billy widens his eyes comically as he takes the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and puts it between his lips.

“So, little kitten does have some scratch in her, doesn’t she? Who would’ve known,” he asks rhetorically, sarcasm lacing his tone as his fingers work to drag a little red match across the matchbox. Just as he was about to burn up with the audacity to smoke inside, at school for Christ’s sake, Mr. Jameson from wood workshop snags it from Billy’s mouth as he passes by you both in the hallway.

“No smoking inside, Hargrove!”

Billy turns his head with attitude to the teacher that just walked away with one of his precious cigarettes. How could he be that surprised of the consequences, you had no idea how thick his skull really was.

“I still have another one in my pocket you know!” he calls out, taking out the mentioned extra pack he kept in his jacket pocket as he shouted obnoxiously across the hall, catching the attention of everyone else scrambling to get to class.

“Lung cancer can wait another day!” Mr. Jameson reprimands the teen, pausing at the door of his destined classroom. “Get to class, Hargrove. And leave the poor girl alone,” Jameson pities you, probably wondering just what the fuck a girl like you, the polar opposite of Billy, was doing chatting and wasting time with him in the hallway.

“Yeah? I’m shaking in my boots over here, Mister J. And she could leave if she wants to, she’s a big girl,” he says, eyeing you as the words leave his mouth. You’d been impatiently standing there, somewhat annoyed yet entertained by the exchange with a tight lipped smile, still holding your usual boat load of books. Billy can see that you’re pissed because you think he’s misjudged you, but for fuck’s sake, it’s like you don’t even know that there are lockers at school for a reason. You’re practically begging to get made fun of, and Billy’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the bait, see where it leads him. Maybe you’ll surprise him, or maybe he’ll surprise you.

“You done flirting with school staff?” you raise your brows, pointing your thumb back towards Jameson’s classroom. Billy chuckles at your wit, eyes glazing down your fitted schoolgirl-esque sweater, daring to guess what’s hidden underneath it. As well as what’s really under your carefully crafted bitchy persona. It’s so easy to get you kicking and screaming, he plans on using that to persuade you further to him.

“Are you? Don’t think I can’t see the way you looked at ‘em, batting those cute little eyelashes, maybe even bending over in class to—“

You stop him from going further into his detailed imagery with a gag noise spewing from your lips and a hand raised to get him to please shut up already. “Okay, gross. I used to be best friends with his daughter in middle school.”

Billy chuckles at that, then continues on with his weird ass fantasy. “Makes you a dirty bird then, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off. You’re disgusting,” you step closer into his personal space bubble, shoving one of your books into his chest resulting in him pretending it hurt like a drama queen. After another roll of your eyes, he’s satisfied with how much he’s annoyed you then wants to remind you of what he’d asked.

“You never did answer me, you know.”

“About what, genius?” you fix your hair, fidgeting under the pressure of his earlier proposition. You’d hoped he had forgotten he even asked and move on to pull the pigtails of the next girl that strolled by. Clearly he hadn’t, to your dismay.

“‘Bout you playing a little hooky, comin’ with me. Get to see how the other half lives,” he offers, pulling yet another item out of his pocket, and of course it’s a toothpick. He always needed something in his mouth when he’s talking to you.

“Where would we even go?”

He plays with the toothpick in his teeth, flicking his tongue over the stick before answering. “Anywhere. Wherever you want. But if you can’t think of somethin’ to do, I have my usual hiding spots. No one would find us.”

This is the part where the cartoon devil and angel on your shoulder fight, the good side of you worried about what trouble he’d be dragging you into. The bad side tells you that it’s about damn time you do something out of the ordinary, something you’re not supposed to. This time, for the very first time in your life, the devil won.

“Fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not going ‘cause I wanna be your little girlfriend or whatever, this is just because I’m bored, and... and I do know how to have fun,” you declare, staring at your clean Converse as your palms start to sweat from nerves. Just what the fuck are you getting yourself into? It’s your grave that you’re digging here. But why would anybody pass this opportunity up? The only lame excuse you could come up with for the imaginary angel shaking it’s head in disapproval for being defeated was that he was as hot as he was charming, and you felt like you’d been held at gunpoint to resist. You were weak, and you can admit it now. So fuck you if you can’t break bad for once.

Billy licks his lips in triumph, grinning like he finally caught the mouse that had been eyeing the peanut butter in the trap far too long, and had just now decided to take a lick and get sucked in.

“Well alright, little lady. Glad to hear it. Your chariot awaits outside,” he jingles his keys with his fingers, not waiting any longer as he eagerly struts out of the building, with you meekly trailing not far behind him.

—

Billy knew he’d get you to crack. Delighted that he’d get to pop your skipping class cherry, he unlocked his Camaro and even took the time to open the passenger’s door for you. After looking at him in disbelief for a beat, he raises his brows and beckons you further to get in. Something akin to a strange man telling you to get in the car, with a promised bribe of candy and puppies.

“What was it you said back there, that you invented fun? C’mon, think of it as an adventure, like in all those books you read or whatever.”

Yeah, in all those books you read with circumstances like these, something stupid always happens. You’re still on the edge of willing to take that chance, with the voice of every adult that’s every lectured you to not go out with strange boys. Fuck it, maybe something good will come out of this.

You sigh in defeat, done fighting with yourself before giving the ground a shy smile, letting out a quiet “Yeah, I guess.” Getting strapped in with your seatbelt, because safety first, you tightly clutch the several books that had stayed in your grasp like a vice. You’re still quite apprehensive, but there should be no problem in maybe needing a little more convincing. Billy feels like he won the lottery, hopping in and enthusiastically starting the engine up before zooming out of the school parking lot. He even tells you you can pick any music tape in his entire collection to play, which he almost never lets anybody do. However, you’d declined the playing of any music, stubbornly staring out the window at the views passing by. Billy is still determined to get you out of your comfort zone, and if music won’t do it, there must be some radical adventure you’d be excited for that will.

“How ‘bout a movie? You gotta like some genre. Everybody likes movies,” he tells you, still driving aimlessly with no destination in mind for the two of you yet.

“What kind’s your favorite?” Billy wonders aloud, seeing as though you could be a secret cult-loving, horror flick addict, or maybe even a hopeless romantic. He likes the idea of you snuggled up in the theatre munching on popcorn as you watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or maybe even Sixteen Candles. That would be a fucking sight to see.

“Uh, all of them. I like all movies.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout the new Ghostbusters? Heard it’s the next classic—“

“I don’t know anymore, Billy. Maybe... maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you overthink, chewing on your lip from the anxiety that had been eating you away. This is against the rules, and according to your routine, you should be in class right now. The whole idea of this ridiculous outing was just some heat of the moment, fortuitous decision that you’re beginning to regret right now.

Meanwhile, Billy makes a frustrated scoffing sound at you for already wanting to give the fun up. He could’ve easily been mistaken by the connection you two shared through your playful banter, now just passing it off as weak flirting which you clearly didn’t reciprocate.

“Fine. Let’s just go back to school then. Why not, right? Listen to the boring old fuck of a bogus dude like Jameson. He’ll probably scream at us ‘cause we’ll be fifteen minutes late, then the cherry on top being a pink slip to show your folks at home.” Billy had been looking over at you as he ranted, then back to the road to find a place to pull over. He’s already tired trying to make you comfortable when your mind was set on staying uncomfortable. “Your folks’ll really love that. Wait ‘til they find out that I was the one that convinced you to come—“

“Shut the hell up, alright!” you finally snap, throwing your arms in the air and in turn making the tower of textbooks fall with a loud thunk to the floor. Billy is shocked at your outburst, now intently engaged in what you have to say. “You act like you know me, but you don’t, alright? Nobody does. Not my parents, not Jameson, and certainly not you either, pal.”

Billy calls bullshit on that one, letting out a menacing chuckle before judging you harder.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know you, yeah right. I think I really fuckin’ do, actually. You’re just some priss, yet another snobby little girl with a broken little heart, not to mention the ginormous stick up her ass—“

“I do not have a stick up my ass.”

“Do too.”

“Nuh-uh, assface!”

Billy sighs dramatically at the childish banter you’re still keeping up, now finding a lonely space where he can stop the car and really get under your skin, prove you wrong. Because he thinks he really does know your type. He kills the engine as he turns to you.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna prove me wrong? Why don’t you open the glovebox and take out what’s inside. Go on.” he instructed, looking to you and then the glove compartment expectedly. You try masking your hesitance with false confidence before going for it, pulling the lever open and finding what looks like a decent hand-held size bottle. Curious, you look closer and read the sticker on the front, observing the bronze liquid that’s filled a good halfway up. “If you know how to have fun, why don’tcha try taking a swig?” he nods to the bottle, biting his lip in excitement the show you’ll likely put on. He briefly worries for a moment that you’ll actually do it, but that thought is quickly stored away after seeing your reaction upon unscrewing the cap and sticking your tongue out in disgust at the heavy stench. Billy’s sure that there’s no way you had the balls, thinking this test will more likely prove his point that you’re all bark no bite. You regain your composure before speaking.

“Oh, I could so drink this. You’re making this way too easy, man.” Billy chuckles at your crass attempt at trying to sound cool to impress him. “What’s so funny, huh? Think I won’t?” you raise your voice defensively, gesturing to the swirl of what’s left in the bottle. Billy can’t hold in his revolting laughter anymore as he holds his stomach and slaps the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be kidding me,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was some comedy gold right there. Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t know how bad I really needed that.”

After sitting and listening to his whole schtick about how hilarious the idea of you misbehaving is, you’ve been riled up to the point of clenching your fists at your sides. Steam might as well be shooting out from your ears. Of course he’s exactly like the rest of them, the bullying, ridiculing, and constant underestimating.

“Oh yeah? Well if you don’t believe me, then...” you lick your lips, taunting him with a filthy, no-good glare as he grows weary under the tension, “Watch me.”

You’d taken the bottle and swallowed your pride, giving the finger to everyone who expected you to stay impossibly innocent forever, then gulped at least a mouthful from the bottle. It felt freakishly foreign and warm as it went down, settling deep down your belly and the aftertaste stinging your tastebuds. The bottle’s contents had diminished significantly from the dent you put in, and Billy can’t believe anything he’s seeing with his own two eyes. It’s the first time he’d been stunned to silence, with the late reaction of snatching the bottle away from you before you could poison yourself, or do more damage than what has already been done.

“You’ve — you gotta be fucking kidding me! That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen,” he stumbles, furrowing his brows and throwing an arm in the air in utter disbelief, while his other holds the bottle like a baby, keeping it hidden away from you. “Holy shit, Y/N! I said a swig, not whatever you just did!” he scolds, eyes as wide and frightened like a goddamn cartoon.

Meanwhile, you’d been coughing up a storm having chocked from some of the liquor going down the wrong pipe then cringing at the leftover taste bleaching your mouth. Your head feels whoozy, not that the liquor’s kicked in quite yet.

“That tastes like gasoline,” you point to where Billy has white-knuckled the bottle in his hands, making damn sure you don’t pull that move again. It was his fault, though, and the guilt is stalling right beside his mind for the chaos that has yet to come. He was the one pushing your buttons, pressuring you just as much as everybody else, ultimately making you so tired of it to the point of drowning yourself with the rest of his backup bottle of Smirnoff he kept for safekeeping.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. That’s why you gotta sip it!” he runs his fingers through his curls stressfully, having burdened himself with carrying the responsibility of taking care for this poor almost-drunk girl in his car. Of course you’d try overcompensating by downing an outrageous amount and being smug about it. He guessed you’d never drank anything before, or at least that’s the only logical explanation as to why you were surprised at how vile the taste had been. Drinkers often know how shitty the taste is, and use a chaser to get rid of the vomit-inducing touch it leaves.

“You people drink that garbage for fun?” you snort, not understanding the slightest bit of why someone would do that to themselves willingly.

Billy rubs his eyes frustratingly, then safeguards the vodka from your reach as he starts up the engine again and pulls out from where you two were parked.

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t hit you yet. You’ll know why when it does.”

—

Half an hour later, Billy had gotten over the stress of being the one responsible for your drunkenness, now just sitting and listening to the weird shit you’re rambling on about. Of course you’d be a lightweight given your inexperience in the matter, but with how much and in such short time, you were an adorable mess. He thinks it’s sorta cute the way she slurs and jumps from one topic change to the next, such as her opinions on how uninteresting Star Wars is right to how sexy she thinks Corey Haim is. The vastly different ideas mingling together all in one conversation nearly gives the boy whiplash, but he can’t help loving it.

“Oooh, oh! Stop the car. I said stop the car! There’s a lake here, we gotta get out,” you rush, poking the window and even shoving your face up excitedly and fogging it up with your breath.

“Why do we have to—“

“No questions!”

Billy holds his hands up in surrender, not believing that he’s really taking orders from a blasted schoolgirl on her first time ever skipping class. School ended awhile ago, but you’ve yet to mention wanting to go home. Although the teen would like to know you’re getting there safely and not getting into any shit with your parents (if they’re anything like his), he’s still up for granting you your first good time.

Pulling in to the deserted area, Billy puts his Camaro in park and getting out, watching as you fumble to unlock your door and nearly fall out in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head at you with an involuntary grin, then scratches the back of his neck as he wonders just what you’re planning to do here. He then catches you when you’re about to fall for the second time getting out, your palms grabbing at his chest and nearly falling to your knees. A smile has still plastered his expression, unable to keep his poker face at the joy you are when you’re drunk.

“This is your first time drinkin’, isn’t it?” he asks, holding you and keeping you upward because you couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life right about now.

“Whaddya think Popeye? Oh wait, I remember what you think, ‘cuz you told me so! Didn’t it go something like... you’d strongly argue that there’s a giant stick up my ass?” you put your finger to your temple and hum, pretending to think. “Well no one as boring as that would do this,” you exclaim, moving your arms down and doing a drunken cartwheel on the dirty ground. Billy quickly acts, going to pull you back up to stop you from laying down any longer on the gross pavement. When he does, you yank his arms towards where you lay, resulting in him foolishly landing on top of you. You’d yelled ”TIMBER!” while he’d let out a squawk sound at your surprising strength.

“Y’know, I think I offically figured out why people drink gasoline so much,” you point out, getting ready to give him your analysis on your liquor consumption.

“It’s Smirnoff actually, but go on,” Billy smiles and waits for you to keep going on yet another drunk tangent.

“It’s b’cause like, I feel the ground moving real fast. I can feel the way that earth is rotating on it’s axis, like what Jameson talked about in class,” you’ve put your palms to the ground as you spewed, putting your ear down as if to listen to it moving. You suddenly picked yourself up, swingy as you quickly lost balance and using Billy’s hand as a way to stay off the floor.

“I already know you think I’m this bogus loser with bogus friends and does nothin’ but bogus homework all the time, but, I think you’re opposite. You’re cool. Too cool for school. You’re this daring dreamboat, this cliché heartthrob that picks on girls and hands them a bottle and says, ’drink up!’” you conclude the statement, slapping his thigh with another roar of laughter tumbling out from your mouth. Everything is so indescribably funny, and you barely ever laugh at anything anymore, so you’re having the time of your life not holding anything in like you usually have to. Billy, in contrast to you, now feels shame creep back up and wants to give you the apology you deserve. Even if there’s a chance you’ll forget all about it because of your drunkenness.

“I um, I’m sorry you know. For pressuring you to take it that far, I was just upset because you wouldn’t hang out with me,” he murmurs, coming back up from the ground and looking everywhere else besides your eyes. You shrug, not finding any deep meaning in anything anymore, crossing your arms.

“Forgiven. Only if you do a little something with me,” you smirk, coming up to him and tugging at his jacket, making Billy draw away from you. He will not do anything with a girl that’s drunk, and that’s a vow.

“C’moooon, who’s the boring old fuck now? Hint hint, it isn’t Jameson! His name starts with capital B and ends in Y!” you snort, barely balancing on one foot as you struggle unlacing your Converse and throwing them off your feet. Next comes you sweater, and now Billy feels like he can’t breathe properly seeing you in your bra and your jeans marching towards the near freezing lake.

“What— uh, Y/N stop, this isn’t right at all, what’re you fucking doing!” he shouts, jogging over to you in a midst panic. You’re grinning like a baby that stole all the candy, not refraining from snaking the rest of your clothes off. Sober you would be absolutely appalled, while drunk you is having a fucking blast. Billy rushes to you and rips off his jacket, covering your nakedness and snapping his head in every direction as to make damn sure no one is witnessing this right now.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Take more off and join me,” you make a come hither gesture with your finger while heading towards the water, before dunking right in. The alcohol has warmed you up, making you completely impervious to the cold wetness. Billy thanks God that he sees your head peak back up from the water, almost shitting himself at the thought of losing you from drowning or the million other things that could go wrong here.

“Hurry it up, Hargrove! Chop chop, water’s feelin’ fucking great out here!” you shout, both your hands making an O-shape around your lips so he could hear you better. Billy shakes his head, deciding that he only lives once, and this is going to be the most wild thing he’s ever done with a girl. Even though he’d been around the block and done some pretty questionable things.

The teen hurried to yank off his jeans and shirt, and stops for a moment to ponder if it’s really smart to keep his boxers on. He hated being a hormonal boy right then, given that his dick had started waking up at the sight of you waltzing around naked and teasing him. He decides that if you, the school’s perfect good girl could hop in the water in your birthday suit, he had to follow your footsteps and do it too.

“We could get arrested for this,” he calls out, shoving his boxers off and folding both yours and his clothes together in one neat pile before joining you in the freezing cold water. He’d swam much more gracefully than you had, watching you doggy paddle over to him and laugh as you jump scare him with a splash of water into his face.

“Jesus, what was that for?” he wipes the water out of his eyes, his dirty blonde mullet now drenched.

“For taking too damn long,” you smile while spitting out some water that had seeped into your mouth. Billy swims closer into your personal space and holds onto your back, extra careful about where his hands lay because of your being utterly exposed to him.

“Okay, I guess this is when I gotta admit that I stand corrected,” he confesses reluctantly, keeping his eyes on yours and refusing to look down any further. You may be drunk and naked and fucking wet right in front of him, but he remains respectful. “You’re way more ballsy than I am.”

“That’s right, bitch, and don’t you forget it!” you show off, before swimming away with your back floating on the water.

“Where you goin’ now, crazy?” he asks, trailing behind you. You’ve gotten out now, not giving a shit about drying off and shoving your pants back up, along with stealing his jacket and putting it on over where you just wear your bra. Billy can’t unsee you naked, and he certainly never will forget seeing you in his jacket with almost nothing underneath with his own two eyes. His dick has definetely not reacted kindly to the practically below zero temperature water, but it sure as shit tries going back up because of you.

—

Both teenagers barely dried off still, have taken to cranking up the heat to the point of it being similar to a sauna in his car as you both giggle about what just happened.

“I can’t believe you,” he thinks aloud, still so baffled by your drunken nature and what stupid shit you’re really capable of.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yes, oh-so-crazy one?”

“Remember when I told you, I told’ya I liked all kinds a movies,” you remind him of earlier, and he listens and nods intently, wondering what’s gonna come flying out of your mouth now. “I really do. I cried while watching The Breakfast Club, even When Harry Met Sally. Or Jaws too. Like, all’s movies do is make me cry. Because the characters go and have fun with their friends, or meet someone and fall in love, and I never’ve gotten to do that before. But you’re so fun, and I feel like I got to live in one of the movies today,” you mumble, now having been worn out by the day you’ve had and propping up your arm to the window and resting your head on it.

Billy’s heart and face have flushed to the point of soaring at your confession. He takes on one of his hands off the wheel, keeping one steady on making sure he won’t crash you two, and pets your wet hair and combing his fingers lovingly through.

“Alright, beautiful. Well, I’m glad you had fun, but uh, the truth is that this was all you. You’re hardcore, seriously. It’s pretty bitchin’. But I kinda felt like I lived in a movie today with you too,” he murmurs the last part, still tucking your damp strands behind your ear carefully then gets greeted by the sound of your soft snoring from the passenger’s seat. He chuckles at that, then focuses back on the road. The boy knows this night will always be lodged into his memory, and he’ll never underestimate you again.

—

this was so fun writing! I’ll be starting up on another prompt request soon, don’t worry fellas and ladies and gents

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #billy hargrove

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you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus · 6 years ago

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It Only Takes A Taste

1 ||

Summary: A bunch of kids from Utah compete in the annual Kids Baking Championship. Between difficult challenges, silly moments of fun, and everything in between, they start to form bond between each other. Kids that would never have interacted form friendships so strong; it only takes a taste to know that someone will be a part of your life for a long time.

Chapter 1: Cookies

Word Count: 3015

Read on AO3

“Alright, c’mon look alive. Don’t worry about the lights being too bright, you’ll get used to it,”

Eight kids were herded into a huge room, decked out with all the latest kitchen appliances, and more sprinkles than even the most skilled mathematician could count. A few were bouncing on their feet, feeling a surge of adrenaline spike through their bodies. One was standing in the back, keeping his head down and mumbling things under his breath. Two girls could not stop squealing about how excited they were.

“Okay, in three, two, one, let’s get rolling!”

Two adults with big smiles burst through the doors, causing all the children to erupt in applause and cheers.

“Welcome, everyone, to the kids baking championship,” the lady exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “we’re your hosts, Veronica and Drew, and we are so excited to see you all here!”

“As you know,” Drew started, “we have searched all around the state for the best kid bakers, and we’re selected you all for your outstanding creations. Throughout the coming weeks, you will all be faced with challenges designed to test your skills as a baker. And, at the end, one of you will be crowned the champion,”

“And let’s not forget that the winner gets,” Veronica paused, as all the kids created the effect of a drumroll as they drummed their hands against their thighs, “ten thousand dollars!”

The kids erupted into applause again, a few of them screaming and shaking the person next to them.

“Aren’t you excited?” a boy with dark brown hair said, turning around to face a girl with a head of curls, and a boy with perfectly coiffed blond hair.

“I’m here to win,” she responded, crossing her arms smugly, “what with all my experience, it should be pretty easy,”

The boy shrunk a little at that, toying with the hem of his apron. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this.

“I’m so excited to be here,” the blonde boy cut in, smiling so wide that it reached his eyes, “I’m TJ, by the way,”

“Cyrus,” the shorter boy greeted, turning his attention to the judges.

“For today’s challenge, we want you to make a dozen cookies, using the ingredient that each of you have been given,” Drew explained, “you all have a card at your stations, and when we say go, you’ll have ninety minutes to bake and decorate your cookies,”

A hush fell over the group of kids, the gears turning in their minds.

“And cut! Alright, back into the interview rooms, please,”

Drew and Veronica pointed the kids towards the room, and the each stood in line, waiting to be interviewed. Cyrus made sure to try and stick close to TJ.

“Hi, I’m Buffy, I’m fourteen years old. I live in in Murray, Utah,” she started, smiling, “I’ve been baking ever since I could walk. I’ve baked things for my school bake sales, birthday parties, and on the weekends at my sleepovers. I think that I’m going to be the kids baking champion because I’ve got the heart, and the sweet thumb,” she said, giving the camera a thumbs up.

TJ and Cyrus peered through the window, watching her interview. They couldn’t hear anything, but they could see her moving her lips.

“Are you guys nervous?” a girl from behind piped up, jumping up to try and see what was happening in the little room.

“Not really,” TJ replied, “I mean, this is just for fun, right?”

“I guess,” she replied, “I’m Andi,”

“TJ,” he greeted, offering her a smile, “and this is Cyrus,” he added, pointing to the boy next to him.

“Next!” the man inside called, ushering the small girl inside.

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m Andi. I’m fourteen years old I’m from Beaver, Utah,” she started, kicking her legs under the stool that she sat on, “I love baking things for my friends for their birthdays. If I win the competition, I’m going to convince my parents to get me a dog,” she giggled, smiling for the first time that day.

The day went on, each of the kids going inside and doing their mini interview for the pilot episode of the show. TJ talked about basketball, Cyrus mentioned that he wanted to buy a pool table, Jonah said something about getting uniforms for his frisbee team, and the rest of the day went by in a blur. By the time they were all done, it was nearly noon and time to start the first round.

All the kids waited at their stations, nervously tapping their fingers against the tables. Andi’s heart was in her throat, and she could practically feel herself seizing up. Cyrus focused on his breathing, shutting his eyes. A red-haired boy named Gus tapped his feet anxiously, awaiting the cue.

“Alright bakers, you have ninety minutes to make and decorate a dozen cookies with your given ingredient,” Veronica started, “and your time starts. . .now!”

Anticipation filled the air, as the kids tore open their envelopes to reveal what ingredient they’d been give.

“I got cinnamon!” Andi shouted, scampering over to the spices to grab it quickly, before she started to make anything.

“I have peanut butter!” Buffy exclaimed, taking out a few bowls from underneath of her station.

“I have. . .macadamia nuts,” Cyrus mumbled, shaking his head. He was not fond of macadamia nuts, and he was really not looking forward to tasting it when he made his cookies.

“Coffee beans?” TJ questioned, reading over the words again to make sure that he didn’t misread it. Yup, it said coffee beans. He felt all his knowledge of baking fall out of his brain and onto the floor; it was like he was in the kitchen for the first time. People around him were grabbing ingredients left and right, and he just stood there frozen.

“TJ, what are you making?” Cyrus asked, leaning over from his station, “TJ?”

“Oh, uh, something with coffee,” he mumbled, pulling out bowls and whisks at random, “I have no idea what I’m going to do,” he admitted, starting to put together the basics of a cookie dough, “what are you making?”

“Something with macadamia nuts,” he said with low enthusiasm, but TJ perked up at that.

“Those are my favorite! They go really well with blueberries,” he advised, turning the mixer up to a higher speed.

Cyrus brightened, hurrying over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of blueberries. “Thanks,” he smiled, cutting them up into halves as his dough mixed, “maybe you could brew some coffee and turn it into a glaze?”

TJ’s whole face lit up, scooping out some of the beans and walking over to the coffee machine. “You’re the best,” he called out, turning on the machine.

Cyrus ducked his head, scooping his cookie dough out of his machine. The camera man in front of him tried to capture whatever expression was on his face, but Cyrus kept his face down until the man moved away to see what Buffy was doing. She replied with the utmost confidence, always smiling, always standing proudly.

“Bakers, you have just one hour left! Make sure you have enough time for your cookies to cool before you decorate them!”

Andi groaned, rolling out her dough and cutting them into rounds. She couldn’t find the cookie cutter, so she went for cutting them out freehand with a knife. They weren’t perfectly even, but they were going to have to do.

“Does anyone have the sanding sugar?” a girl named Natalie called.

“I’ve got it,” a blonde boy by the name of Reed replied, rushing over and nearly dropping it on his way there.

Cyrus looked around; it was nearly pure chaos. Under the bright lights and time restraints, he felt more stressed than he ever had. Baking was usually something that brought him peace, but this seemed to do the opposite. After he put his cookies in the oven, he breathed a sigh of relief.

That feeling didn’t last long.

“Oh, bakers!” Veronica drawled, walking out, “you know what cookies go great with? Milk,” she said, “but we don’t want to have to wash dishes. We want you to make two edible cups out of your cookie dough!”

TJ slammed his fist against the table, pushing aside his remaining dough. He tried his best to mold it into the shape of a cup; they looked. . .almost like cups. More like misshapen bowls that he’d made in pottery class.

Cyrus decided that making cups out of dough with nuts in it was not the easiest thing in the world. They were oddly misshapen, and nuts were jutting out from all sides. It would have to suffice, he supposed, as he placed them in the oven.

“This isn’t even that hard,” Buffy puffed, making two small cups that could probably hold a teaspoon on milk, “all you gotta do is bake them,”

Other kids scrambled to get their cups done. Things smelled like they were burning, which were probably Reed’s cookies considering he was wafting away smoke from his tray of cookies. Cyrus felt awful for him, and wanted to help, but he knew he had to focus on his own cookies.

“For my decoration, I’m going to try and make a brittle to put it on top,” he explained to the camera man in front of him. He really didn’t understand why people needed the cameras to be so close; what if he got flour, or worse, his caramel on it?

“Decorations, decorations,” Andi mumbled, perusing the pantry for something to top her cookies with. Spying the fondant and a rack of food colors, she grabbed the off the shelf, and hurried back to her work station.

If the viewers wanted a definition of hot mess, they could take a peek at Gus’ station. Flour was everywhere, there was no clean bowl, and nobody could actually see the table. He had cookies and the baked cup, but his station was an absolute mess.

“We’re getting down to the wire, bakers! Just ten minutes left!”

TJ puffed out a breath, his hands shaking a little as he spooned the glaze over the cookies. They were a little messy, admittedly, but he was satisfied with them. He peered over at Cyrus’ station, where he was tapping the tray on the counter to break the brittle. The pieces were misshapen, looking like broken glass, but he supposed that’s how a brittle was done. He’d never made one before.

“Get it on the plate!”

Cyrus could feel the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. His tongue was out, deep in concentration as his hands struggled to place all the shards of brittle on the cookies. He could hear the judges calling out the last few seconds, and with all the stress, their voices were muffled.

“Time’s up!”

Cyrus stepped back, putting his hands up and dabbing at his hairline. The last ninety minutes were a blur, and he could barely remember anything. The cameras cut, and the kids were ushered into a waiting room. One by one, they were picked to come to the judges to have their creations critiqued.

“So,” TJ started, taking a seat by Cyrus, “what brings you here?”

Cyrus scoffed, crossing his legs. “Probably the same thing that brings everyone here. I’m an alright baker and I wouldn’t mind winning some money,”

“Alright?” Jonah piped up, “we’re, like, the best in the state, dude! Don’t sell yourself short,”

Cyrus rolled his eyes, attention drawn to the door as soon as a man poked his head in. “Cyrus, you’re up,” he called, waving him towards him.

“Good luck man,” TJ said, clapping him on the back as Cyrus walked away. Andi sat nervously in one of the chairs. Reed was cursing under his breath; the judges noted that his cookies were burned, and he stormed out of the room before they finished judging. The producers planned to air this at the very beginning of the episode to reel in the viewers: typical.

“Cyrus, tell us what you made today,”

As Cyrus explained, he saw the judges reaching for a pitcher of milk to pour into his cookie mug. This was it; the moment of truth. He nearly held his breath; luckily, the cookie remained together, holding the milk. He breathed out, feeling his heart beat again.

“I think the only note would be that you could have toasted the macadamia nuts,” Drew said, with Veronica nodding beside him, “but I think that the blueberries and macadamia nuts was an interesting choice. It works really well,”

Cyrus made a mental note to thank TJ later.

“They loved it!” Buffy exclaimed, walking back into the room, “was pretty much nothing but positivity,” she added, taking another seat on the couch.

“Are you always this high and mighty?” Reed was quick to jump in, raising his brows.

“You’re one to talk,” she snapped, “your cookies were burned,”

As the two of them continued to bicker back and forth, the other kids found themselves chatting amongst themselves. Andi and Natalie were hitting it off, and Gus joined in with them, all of them laughing about the mistakes that they made. Gus was flailing his arms wildly, sending Andi into a fit of giggles.

“How’d you do?” TJ asked Cyrus, leaning back in the couch.

“Alright,” he started, his face lighting up, “oh, thanks for the tip with the blueberries. They really loved it,”

“No worries,” he smiled, “oh, and thanks for the tip on the glaze. It was good, my hands were just shaking, so it didn’t look great,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. And if in that moment Cyrus wondered how soft his hair was, that thought didn’t exist but for a millisecond.

“I always think taste it the most important,” Cyrus mused, “like, sure it may not look great, but if it tastes good? I’m sold,”

“Exactly!” TJ agreed, giving the other boy a high five, “you know, you’re pretty cool,”

Cyrus rolled his eyes. “Mhm, sure. Try telling that to, like, everyone in my grade,”

“I would,” TJ challenged, a coy smile playing on his lips. Maybe this competition wasn’t going to be so stressful after all.

TJ was so wrong. As he stood in front of the judges, he’d never felt more stressed in his life. The lights seemed brighter than before, and it felt like when he was at the optometrist, his eyes dilated and the lights blinding. His hands were trembling by his sides, and the cameraman was getting ready to start filming. As they counted down, he felt something nudge his side. Cyrus gave him a smile and a thumbs up, and just like that, all his anxiety disappeared.

“Alright bakers,” Veronica started, “this week, we challenged you to make a dozen cookies, with a random ingredient that we assigned you. Good news first; two of you had outstanding flavors, as well as great presentation. And those bakers are,”

Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths. “Buffy,” she said, “. . .and Cyrus,”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped, quirking up into a smile as he bounced on his toes. “Way to go,” TJ whispered to him, smiling.

“Congrats to you both, you are both safe until the next week,” she continued, “a few other bakers did a pretty good job of balancing flavor and presentation, and are also safe. Those bakers are. . .Andi, TJ, Jonah, and Natalie,”

TJ breathed a sigh of relief, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ under his breath.

“Unfortunately, that leaves Gus and Reed in the bottom two. Please step forward,” Drew said, the two boys nervously taking a few steps up.

“It’s always hard to let someone go this early in the competition,” Veronica sighed, kneading her hands together, “but both of you had complications with your cookie cups, as well as your cookies. Gus, yours were too soft in the middle, and didn’t really hold up. Reed, your cookies were burned, and the cups crumbled as soon as we poured the milk in,”

“It’s unfortunate that we have to let one of you go,” Drew sighed, offering a sympathetic smile, “but the baker that will not be moving on is. . .Reed,”

His heart sunk. He felt like he was going to collapse to the floor; his knees were weak, and his chest was seizing up. The other kids came up around him offering hugs, until one of the directors whisked him away to another room for his exit interview.

“Great job, everyone! You’re all safe for another week! You guys can head back into the main room and relax for a while. We’ll see you tomorrow,”

The kids giddily left the room, a few of them gushing over how relieved they were to have made it past the first week.

“Congrats, seriously,” Jonah clapped Cyrus on the back, “I told you that you were talented,”

Cyrus blushed softly at this, shaking his head. “Lucky win,” he mumbled, “but I’m so beat right now. All I want to do is take a nap,”

“I can’t even imagine what the next challenge is going to be,” TJ mused, rubbing his temples, “my powers tell me. . .something baked,”

Cyrus rolled his eyes. “Wow, a true magician. Who’s winning this competition, oh great and powerful one?”

TJ smirked, shutting his eyes and pretending to concentrate. “The results are murky, check back in a few days,”

Cyrus laughed, dusting some flour off of his shirt. “Do you use your powers in school too?”

TJ chuckled, albeit nervously. “If I did, I wouldn’t be struggling in some classes, would I?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Suppose not,” he added, skipping ahead to catch up with Andi and Gus.

TJ’s gaze lingered a moment longer on the boy. His hair looked kind of nice in the back, and his smile was pretty nice too. He shook his head; this was a competition. He was against all of these people; he was here to win, not to get distracted by boys with nice hair and pretty smiles.

This was going to be a long show.

#andi mack #jonah beck #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #natalie andi mack #gus andi mack #reed with the weed #buffy driscoll #tyrus #tyrus fic #my fics #it only takes a taste

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jeonsduck · 5 years ago

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Prince or Pauper

Pauper: Part 2

It turns out that paying Yuta to be your personal taxi during your three month long stay is more of a cure than a blessing. Yuta and Johnny are farmers, and they live on the property next to the onsen you're staying at. Convenient right? Wrong. The only times Yuta deigns to pick you up are at the ass-crack of dawn when he's heading into town for the day, or after lunch when he heads back to the farmhouse to eat. Which sucks, because walking into town is a chore. This has lead to you rushing around most mornings, trying to get ready in time to catch a ride into town half awake. This is one such morning. "Hey, Y/N! Hurry up, or I'll leave you!" Yuta yells from his pick up, honking. "Dude, shut up you're so loud!" Johnny scolds, groggy in the mornings. "You'd better not leave me here this morning, Nakamoto Yuta!" You yell out the window. You're not dressed yet and you NEED Yuta to drive you to the train station this morning. There's a cooking class you want to attend in Osaka, and if you miss the train, you'll miss the class. "Then let's go, times a wasting!" You sigh and quickly shove your feet into shoes before burtsing out of the door. You're still putting on a jacket and you're carrying your bag in your mouth, but Johnny scoots over to let you in the cab. "You city folk sleep so much. Johnny's been out here for years and he still can't wake up in the morning." Yuta scolds. "Yuta, shut up and drive. Please." Yuta humphs but puts the truck in drive. "Bossy this morning, aren't you?" "If I miss my train, I miss my cultural class. If I miss my class, I kill you." You explain shortly. Yuta snorts. "Cultural class. Didn't you come stay out here to experience the culture better? Why go back into the city for a class on it?" He aks, shooting you a look. "Because I can't learn how to cook in my room at the the onsen." "I can teach you how to cook." Yuta says, prissily. "No, you can't. If it goes anywhere similar to this transportation arrangement, I'll risk it with the Osaka Cultural Center." You point out and Yuta scoffs. "Everyday I drive you to and from town out of the goodness of my heart-" Yuta starts, but you cut him off. "I paid you five thousand yen!" "You tipped me. I would have driven you without it." "Now, you tell me that?" Johnny groans, cutting you both off mid-argument. "Please shut up, both of you." Yuta sticks his tongue out at you playfully as he pulls into the train depot. "Well, go on, go get your cultural immersion." He says, gesturing to the ticket office. You hop out, slamming the truck door closed and rushing up to the ticket counter. "I need one round trip ticket to Osaka on the 7:30 train." The ticketmaster looks up with a sorrowful face. "Oh, I'm sorry but that train was delayed due to a tree down on the tracks. Would you like a ticket for the later train?" She asks. You sigh and shake your head. "No, thank you." You pull out your phone as you walk away from the train station towards the town center. Yuta showed you a nice cafe last week, and its time for a nice breakfast. You dial Yuta's number with a resigned sigh. It rings twice before he picks up. "What's up?" "You can teach me to cook?" "I thought you'd never ask. of course there will be a small service charge-" "I'm not paying you anymore Yuta." "Fair enough."

That evening, Yuta picks you up and takes you to his and Johnny's farmhouse. Despite being basically rightbnext door and them driving you to and from town, you'd never actually been to their house. It was actually quite cute and quaint. They had chickens and sheep romaing around the property and a couple different crop fields. Yuta lead you to straight through the house to their garden, where he and Johnny helped you pick vegetables for that night's dinner. "So, what are we making, chef?" You ask, eyeing the army of ingredients you've assembled on the small counter. "Sukiyaki!" Yuta annouces, slamming a large pot down on the table. Johnny slams down a portable stove with similar force and Yuta smacks his arm. "Dude, don't fucking break it." "So what's step one?" You ask. "Step one, is putting on an apron." Yuta says solemnly. Johnny nods, tying his own apron that reads 'Kiss the Cook' around his waist. Yuta is donning one decorated like the anime Food Fantasy. "Chose your armor wisely." johnny says, holding out the final options. A smart, navy blue apron, or one decorated with Super Smash Bros characters. One Nintendo themed apron later the kitchen is a mess. Three people is just the right amount to prepare sukiyaki, with you filtering between your own work and what Johnny and Yuta are doing to 'get the full experience'. You're cutting up vegetables and the tofu because it's the hardest to mess up while Yuta makes the sauce and Johnny cooks the meat. Johnny had shooed you away after you'd burnt up a piece of meat, declaring he needed total silence and complete focus to do this part correctly. It wasn't exactly true, becuase they had the radio on in the kitchen but you left him alone nonetheless. When Yuta finished with the sauce he moved to help you finish chopping vegetables into manageable pieces. "Hey, wanna do something cute?" Yuta asks. You cock your head to the side and he pulls out what looks loke a small flower shaped cookie cutter. He presses a slice of carrot through the mold, turning it into a flower shape. He hands the cutter off to you and you begin shaping all the carrot slices "What do we do with the excess?" you ask, not wanting to waste it. "Eat it. It's just carrot." Yuta says. You munch on the extra careot pieces as you go, until Yuta whines at you. "Hey, they're not all for you! Give me some!" Yuta complains. You go to hand him some pieces but he just opens his mouth for you to feed him. You roll your eyes, but pop a piece of carrot into his mouth. He hums happily and goes back to his chopping. Once you've finished cutting up all the ingredients and packing them into the pot, you bring the extras to the table in a little tray where Johnny already has the stove fired up. Yuta pulls out a six pack of beer and dinner is ready. "Oh wait! Let me take a picture!" You say. Johnny and Yuta groan at the delay but still slide into place for a quick selfie. After that, you all sit down, thank each other for the food and dig it. It's like, stupid delicious, and you catch yourself moaning in appreciation. Yuta chuckles, sliding you a bowl of raw egg to dip your food in. "Try it like this. It's even better." He says. You eye the egg suspiciously, because as adventurous as you are, salmonella isn't something you're super interested in. "It's fine to eat raw eggs here, it's just the ones in America that are dirty." Johnny says and Yuta gestures for you to try it. Hesitantly, you do. The egg is a little sweet and cold, offsetting the rest of the dish. "Ok, that's really fucking good." Yuta chuckles and adds more ingredients to the pot. "Yeah sometimes I know what I'm talking about." He says with a shrug. You eat in relative silence, except for the occasional sound of appreciation. When the food is finished and dishes are cleaned, you're laying in the floor of Yuta and Johnny's living room, full to the brim. "That was amazing. Thank you." "No problem, city slicker." Yuta says as he walks by. You catch Yuta's ankle, stopping him in his tracks. "Yeah, but seriously. Thanks for cooking with me. This probably was better than that class anyway." "Of course it was. I did it. And it was authentic. It was a truly exclusive experience." Yuta says, obviously preening. "Aight, I'm gonna head out." Johnny says, disappearing to his room. "I should proably go too-" "The onsen owner probably already locked up fir the night. Just stay here." Yuta says. "Oh no, I couldn't, plus all my clothes are at the inn and-" Yuta cuts you off again. "I'm not driving you over there at this time. Beside you can just wear something of mine." Yuta offers. You sigh but allow Yuta to give you a pair of shorts and a hoodie to change into. The clothes smell like his laundry detergent, which smells great. You catch yourself sniffing the collar before you realize. "Come on, you take the bed, I'll sleep in the living room." Yuta says once you're both changed. Yuta looks soft, in flamnel pamts and a white tshirt.. "I'm not stealing your clothes and kicking you out of your own bed." You argue and Yuta frowns. "Who said anything about stealing? You better give me that hoodie back." "You are never getting this hoodie back. We can share the bed Yuta, I won't die, and neither will you." Yuta sighs and steps aside to let you into his room. You take the left side of the bed, leaving Yuta the right side, and you're so tired, you're out the second your head hits the pillow.

The next morning, Yuta wakes up early becuase that what he always does. Definitely not so he can watch you sleep for a little while like some creepy Edward Cullen type. (And even if he did, he only did it for like five minutes so its not that weird, leave him alone.) In the night, the two of you had migrated closer together until you reached your current position, with your head on Yuta's chest. "Yuta, let's go the chickens are-" Johnny cuts himself off as he stumbles into Yuta's room to find the two of you cuddling. You stir, only to twist your fingers into Yuta's sleep shirt. "Oh. Ill let you guys get back to... whatever that is." He says and walks right back out.

#nct yuta #nct 127 #nct #kpop scenarios #yuta nakamoto x reader #nakamor #nct yuta nakamoto #kpop imagines #yuta x reader #yuta i #yuta imagines

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365daysofsasuhina · 6 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred One: Don’t Waste Your Time ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Everything she does is put under a lens of scrutiny. That’s what happens when your father is a notorious politician. Hinata (and her sister Hanabi) have little to nothing to do with Hiashi’s career, but you’d never guess it based on how often their faces appear below his headlines. Since she was young, Hinata’s dealt with people already knowing her name when, to her, they’re still strangers. Public school was hell, and so Hiashi invested in a private institution.

If anything, it almost seemed to get worse.

The kids there were all of similar roots: money. Didn’t matter where it came from. Their parents had it, and spent it on private schooling. Sure, Hinata’s family had money...but she’d never been the sort of kid that seemed to revel in it.

Not like some of them did.

Her differing nature makes the transition difficult, and even now, in her senior year, she’s the class outcast. It doesn’t matter she’s been dragged into modeling by her father’s typical cast of characters. Hinata still shys from the lifestyle her father seems so desperate to mold her into.

But she’s not the only one.

Despite having her license, her father still sends a car for her every day after school. As soon as volleyball practice is over, she’s ushered out into the vehicle and driven straight home.

But today, a nearby accident means traffic is bottlenecked, and Hinata’s left to wait in the parking lot. Leaned against a column, she stares out without seeing, mentally going over her schedule for the week. There’s almost nothing about it she likes.

You know it’s going to be a bad one when the thing you look forward to most is visiting your mother’s grave.

Hinata’s shaken from her thoughts, however, as someone brushes past her. “ Oh -!”

Taking another few steps and turning to see who he’s run into, a young man she vaguely recognizes as a yearmate looks her up and down. “Sorry.”

She blinks. “That, uh...that’s okay. I wasn’t...paying attention.” Her shoulder had been sticking out past the corner, after all.

But, then again, there’s several feet between this pillar and the other he could have walked through…

Giving him an appraising look of her own, she notices the helmet tucked under an arm. “...do you...ride a bike?”

After a beat, he gives a scoffing laugh. “Motorbike, yeah.”

Lips purse. “That’s what I m-meant.”

“Right...sorry.”

Expression a bit suspicious, she asks, “Is that...allowed?”

“I’ve got my license, and I pay my lot fee. So...yeah. Guess it is.”

Hinata can’t help a small snort of her own.

“...what?”

“Nothing, it just…” A hand gestures to him. “...it suits you.”

“Kind of a big assumption to make about someone you don’t know, isn’t it?”

“I mean in an...aesthetic kind of way. That’s all.”

“Yeah? Let me guess: you’re the kind that gets a limo ride home after school every day?”

Her cheeks flare pink. “It’s not a l-limo -!”

“What? It fits your aesthetic,” he retorts, smirking. “Cuz you’re that model chick, right? Hyūga, somethin’...?”

“Hinata.”

“Sasuke. Uchiha.”

But before the pair can speak much more, the infamous car finally pulls into the lot. Glancing to it, she sighs...something caught out of the corner of Sasuke’s eye.

Stopping just beyond the exit of the school, the driver steps out. “Apologies, Hinata - there was -”

“An accident, I know - I saw it on my phone,” she replies, tone defeated. “It’s fine…”

“Well, should we get going? Your father is surely waiting.”

“Well, I was having a conversation,” Hinata mumbles under her breath.

Sadly, her words are caught, and he gives her companion a glance. Eyes quickly narrow. “Not to worry, Hinata - don’t waste your time on someone like him.”

“...excuse me?”

“Let’s just say a decent reputation isn’t a requirement to study here,” the driver sniffs. “Now, please: we need to get you home.

Expression appalled, she stares at him. “...a-apologize! Right now!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sasuke cuts in, taking a few slow steps backward. “I’m used to it. It’s all part of the aesthetic.” With that, he gives a mock bow before putting on his helmet and going to mount his bike.

“My point precisely, Hinata,” her driver mutters, eyeing him with open disgust as the bike revs. “Money can buy many things...but manners are not one of them.”

“He was being perfectly polite until you insulted him!”

“Let me give you this warning once, Hinata: the Uchiha are a reputable family. Fugaku is our police chief, his wife a philanthropist, and his elder son a model citizen. But there’s a rotten apple in every bunch, and Sasuke is the Uchiha’s.”

So mad she could boil water with a glance, Hinata strides past him. “Take me home. And we are n-not talking about this any further.”

“...as you wish.”

The whole ride, Hinata fumes in the rear seat. Sure, she’s never spoken to Sasuke before today. She really doesn’t know him. Maybe he was a little teasing and sarcastic, but otherwise he just...talked to her.

When does anyone just talk to her? Like she’s a normal person?

Sure, he poked fun at her, but...no one does that. Not like he did. Either they refuse to due to her reputation...or they do so, but...maliciously.

He was just being playful. No harm intended, if she read him right. In those few minutes of conversation, she’d gotten more real human interaction than she’s had all year.

So hearing him being torn down just...infuriates her!

Sadly, there’s a press dinner to attend to tonight. Going straight to her room, Hinata readies before soon being ushered back into a car. Like a string-drawn puppet, she smiles at the right people, waves when necessary, and gives the same cookie-cutter responses to any question she gets, as always.

But her mind’s not at the dinner. It’s still thinking about Sasuke. About how to apologize to him for her driver’s comments. Maybe get to talk to him some more. More than anything, she hopes he realizes that’s not what she thought.

Come the end of practice the next afternoon, she doesn’t wait outside as per usual - this time, she lingers in the hallway, trying to catch a glimpse of him. It takes several minutes, but eventually he shows up.

“Sasuke!”

Startling slightly, there’s a blink before he snorts. “Back for more?”

“I...I wanted to apologize. For yesterday.”

A dark brow perks. “Far as I recall, you weren’t the one slinging insults.”

“I...no, I wasn’t - but -!”

“Then don’t worry about it. I heard you counter him. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! People...people shouldn’t talk about you like that!”

Sasuke gives her a disbelieving look. “And what would you know about it?”

“Nothing, but that doesn’t mean I just believe what I hear. You were p-perfectly polite yesterday. So that’s my impression. I’ll take your actions over someone else’s words any day.”

For a moment, he looks her over, brow furrowed and clearly thinking. “Independent thought. A luxury nowadays, around here,” Sasuke mutters. “Knew there was a reason I ran into you.”

“...so -?”

“Still need a ride home?”

Hinata blinks...and then her eyes go wide. “...you want me to ride on your bike?”

“Sure. Unless models aren’t allowed to do that?”

She opens her mouth to speak, pauses...then asks, “Do you have another helmet?”

“I keep a spare strapped to my bike, yeah. But we better hustle before your other ride gets here, right?”

Something flutters in Hinata’s stomach. She dares to call it excitement. When was the last time she did something like this? Something in direct contrast to her expectations, her schedule? “...right!”

They run to the doors, throwing them open and making a beeline to Sasuke’s bike. At the entrance, the car begins to turn.

“Here, put this on!”

“I dunno -?”

“Here -” With a quick plop, Sasuke settles it over her head, buckling it in place before tending to his own. “Now, you hold onto me, and you don’t let go - got it?”

“G-got it.”

Sitting first, he scoots forward to let her on once the motor purrs. Kicking it into gear, he directs the front wheel toward the exit.

Getting out of the car, it takes her driver doing a double take to realize what he sees out of the corner of his eye. “Hinata -?”

“Sorry dude, she’s got some time to waste!” Sasuke calls as they glide past, and Hinata even gives a wave. “Hey, I said hold on! Both hands, Hyūga!”

“S-sorry!”

With that, they bank out of the parking lot, at first restricted by school zone speed limits. In her pocket, Hinata feels her phone vibrate furiously.

There’s going to be hell to pay later. But right now? She couldn’t care less.

“Hey! Can we go on the freeway? J-just for a bit?”

“Getting a thrill for it already, huh? Yeah, I can do that. Then I better get you home so you can get your ass chewed out.”

“It’ll be worth it!”

They follow several streets through the suburbs before heading out toward the major roads. Taking an on-ramp, Sasuke revs the engine, and they fly up onto the concrete of the six-lane.

A bit regretful for the helmet that restricts her hair, Hinata nevertheless lets her head go back, feeling the rush of the air at sixty miles an hour. Laughter bubbles up her throat.

She can’t remember the last time she had this much fun…!

But eventually he takes an exit, curving back around toward the house she instructs him to. Pulling up to the curb, he keeps the bike idling as she stumbles off, still giggling and trying to take her helmet off.

“You’ve got a buckle to unclasp, Hyūga.”

Her hair’s a mess once it’s removed, a giddiness bright in her eyes. “That...was amazing!”

Sasuke can’t help a grin. “Gonna be worth getting grounded?”

“Yes!”

“So, same time same place tomorrow?”

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

Clearly amused, he offers, “Well, you better get in and start working on that alibi. If it helps, I’ve been riding this bike for two years. Never had an accident. I’m very responsible. Tell your dad your chauffeur was late yesterday, so you hired a new one.”

“Honestly, I just might.” Softening a bit from her excitement, Hinata then offers, “...thank you, Sasuke.”

“Nah. Thank you.”

Before she can ask what he means, he revs the engine and takes back off. Hinata waves though he can’t see it before turning to go in.

In the door, however, stands her father.

...well, crap.

“...Hinata.”

“Father.”

“Mind telling me why I have several angry messages from your driver? And why, rather than in your appointed car, you arrived home today on a motorcycle…?”

For a moment she’s quiet, weighing her options. “...because I wanted to ride home with Sasuke.”

“Sasuke…? Uchiha?”

“Yes. The...the police chief’s son.”

“Hm…” Hiashi then takes a turn to go silent. “...well, at least you were wearing a helmet.”

“Of...of course. Safety first…?”

To her surprise, he gives a small snort of amusement. “...from now on, if you’re to...arrange other transport, please do let your driver know ahead of time. I don’t pay him to drive around an empty vehicle.”

Wait, is he…? “I...y-yes, Father.”

“Now, inside. You surely have studies to attend to, and you’re fifteen minutes late.” With that, he turns around without another word and heads in.

Still in mild shock - she’s...not in trouble? - Hinata stands out a moment longer before following.

Well...that was anything but a waste of time.

Oof, this is later than usual - had a rather busy day! Yet another spin on good-girl and bad-boy featuring dear Hinata and Sasuke. This is a trope I never get tired of with them, and it's what I immediately thought upon seeing the prompt! Probably WAY cliche, but...hey, I like cliche xD But with that, I gotta head off for the night - I'm behind in replying to comments but I'll do that this coming Monday! I was busy and forgot last week, I’m so sorry OTL For now, though: thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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khloeskitchen-ffxiv · 6 years ago

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Khloe’s Kitchen: Recipe #1 - Ginger Cookies

Welcome to Khloe’s Kitchen, where we love cooking and baking as much as we love Final Fantasy XIV! We’ll be testing out our own interpretations of culinary recipes from the game so that we can bring you step-by-step instructions (including pictures!) for recreating these delightful dishes in your own kitchen.

Today, we have for you a lovely, crispy treat to spice up your snack time - ginger cookies! We’ve gone with a thin shortbread cookie to reproduce the cute black mage-shaped treats. Preparing the dough and baking these goodies is actually a reasonably quick process, so the total time required is all down to the level of detail you’d like in your design (and your patience for cutouts and patterning). Which is to say, once Caly finished meticulously preparing our picture-worthy cookies for presentation, I insisted on using the rest of the dough to crank out plain old circular cookies - a real life interpretation of Quick Synthesis, I suppose!

Anyhow, thanks for stopping by! We hope that you will feel inspired (or hungry, at the very least) by our recipes and stories. Please let us know if you have any questions, and when you do try recipes, please show us how they turn out - we’d love to share your pictures here for future visitors!

Happy adventuring, Caly and Miga

Recipe Details :

- Overall difficulty: ★★☆☆☆ (not including detailing)

- Makes approximately 16-20 black mage cookies (3.5″ or 9 cm in length)

- Dough prep time: 10 minutes [+10 minutes for chilling]

- Design/patterning time: Varies based on complexity/level of detail

- Bake time: 10 + 2 minutes

Cookie ingredients:

2 cups flour ½ cup powdered sugar 1 tsp ground ginger 1 tsp ground cinnamon ⅛ tsp ground cloves ⅛ tsp salt 1 cup of chilled unsalted butter (two sticks), cut into cubes ¼ cup molasses ¼ cup candied ginger (finely chopped, as small as possible)

Glaze ingredients:

2 tablespoons maple syrup 4 tablespoons brown sugar 2 tablespoons water

Directions:

1. Combine flour, powdered sugar, spices, and salt in a large bowl. 2. Add in the chilled squares of butter and carefully mix into the dry ingredients using your hands or a fork. Our goal here is to keep the butter somewhat chunky and not melted, so the mixture should resemble crumbs. If you’ve over-mixed the butter, put your mixture in the fridge for a bit to harden back up.

3. Again, with your hands or a fork, incorporate the molasses and candied ginger. Keep kneading the mixture until you can form a ball (it will be sticky!). Divide the dough in half.

4. Lay out two pieces of plastic wrap and place each half of dough in the center. With the help of the plastic wrap, mold each piece of dough into a square; place in the refrigerator for at least 10 minutes. By chilling the dough, it will be easier to roll out.

5. Lay out a piece of parchment paper on your work surface (you will be utilizing this paper as a “transport system” between your counter and freezer), and then lightly dust your rolling pin and dough with flour. Sprinkle extra flour on your dough if it’s sticking too much to the rolling pin. Roll your dough to be approximately ⅛ of an inch thick. If your dough is too cold, let it sit out for a bit until it’s more malleable (or use your hands to warm it up). Using the BLM design [linked HERE] or regular cookie cutters, cut your dough into the desired shapes.

a. (If following the black mage design, continue reading…if not, skip to step 6): Using a thin knife, carefully trace out the BLM design onto your dough. Each cookie requires two layers, and for each pair you will need to flip the design over for one of the cookies. If you look at the photo, you’ll notice the BLM hat points to the left for one, and then to the right for the other.

b. After tracing your designs, peel away the excess dough. Because the dough is warm, you can do any touch ups with a knife or carefully with your fingers. At this point, I recommend smoothing the outline of each BLM cookie and rounding out the arms and legs.

c. While still keeping your cookies on the parchment paper, transport them to the freezer so they can briefly chill. Leave them uncovered for about 10 minutes (you can work on your next batch of black mages while waiting).

d. Once the cookies are firm enough to remove from the parchment paper (but you should still keep them on the paper), cut out a small oval for the eye opening with a knife. Only ONE cookie in each pair needs a hole, preferably the BLM with a hat whose point is on the right side. (Because the dough is chilled, it should be easy to pop out the dough from the hole. Again, smooth out the harsh cuts for a nice outline. **Note: The photo above is from the first attempt and we later corrected the direction of the BLM cutout for future photos!**

e. (This step will be for the cookie that has the eye hole): Using any leftover dough scraps, mold small ovals for the center jewels of the BLM coat. Next, roll out a very thin layer of dough, thinner than the ⅛ of an inch for the cookie. Cut out strips of dough to make the coat openings: one for each hand, and one for each side of the body. Smooth out any harsh lines. Make and put aside some tiny eyeballs as well, we’ll bake these after the cookies are done.

f. Optionally, chill your cookies again if you plan on changing parchment papers for your cookie sheet.

6. Preheat your oven to 325° F.

7. Place your cookies and parchment paper on a cookie sheet. Optionally, brush a light layer of egg whites on each “designed” cookie (the top layer).

8. With the cookie sheet on your oven’s center rack, bake for 10 minutes, until the cookies begin to brown around the edges and are crisp. After the cookies are done, place your little eyeball dough pieces on a piece of parchment and bake for 2 minutes, just until hard.

9. Let cool for 3-5 minutes, and then move to a rack. Keep track of your eye pieces. Prepare the glaze.

10. In a small saucepan, combine maple syrup, brown sugar, and water. Slowly bring to a light simmer, thickening until bubbles are retained at the surface. Remove from heat, swirling around the glaze with a spoon while it cools and begins to thicken a bit more.

11. Using the BOTTOM flat side of your untouched cookie (it should be the BOTTOM of the cookie with the left-point hat), carefully dip the smooth side into the glaze. You can manipulate the glaze with a fork to make sure all spots are coated. While the glaze is still warm and sticky, sandwich together your pair of cookies. Put your two eye pieces in the center hole. Adjust as necessary. Repeat for each pair of cookies.

12. Store your cookies in a airtight container for up to 5 days. If you don’t plan on making all the cookies at once, freeze the dough for future use.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #final fantasy #desserts #khloe's kitchen

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cozyours · 6 years ago

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Beeswax Flower Candle

Many people think of rolled candles when they think of beeswax sheets; but their flexibility and the natural stickiness of the wax lend them to so many creative possibilities beyond a simple taper! So, roll up your sleeves and get ready for a little candle art.

To make stunning beeswax flower candles, gather up a few supplies…

Candleholders

Cutting Board

Knife and/or Scissors

Wooden Skewer

Wick

Flower Cookie Cutters (check out the baking/cake making section of the craft store)

Beeswax Sheets (greens for stems and leaves; bright flower colors for petals)

Start cutting out your beeswax flower shapes. You may want to help your child choose the most judicious spacing of where to cut, so you have the least amount of scraps. Scraps can be saved and melted down for future candle making- I like to use little molds like this and make floating candles for special occasions in a rainbow of colors.

After pressing down firmly on the first side, carefully flip your sheet over and press the wax downward over the cutter to ensure a clean cut.

Now carefully pop your shape out.

We were able to get six petals per sheet, which was perfect for one flower.

For the butterflies, I used two beeswax sheets (ten cut-outs).

To make the flower stems, cut sheets of green in different lengths. We used a variety of sizes ranging from 3.5 to 7 inches, so they could be close together without bumping against each other like they would if they were all the same height. I also used a variety of greens on the stems- dark, medium, and light. If you make the stems too tall, they are likely to crack when you press down on them to attach the flowers (unless perhaps you decide to make the stems thicker than we did).

When rolling candles, you want the wax to be nice and warm, so it is flexible and does not crack. I kept a pot of water simmering on the stove and held my stem wax over it for a few seconds til it felt a little floppy. Once properly flexible, you can press your wick down at one edge and roll tightly.

Keep your candle holder of choice nearby, so you can check the diameter of the candle to ensure a snug fit. Leave a long tail on your wick, as you will need to thread your petals with it.

I rolled until the candle was slightly thicker than the holder. Then, using two fingers, press the wax together to condense it enough to squeeze it into the holder. A tight fit is better than a loose fit… no need to set the neighborhood on fire, right?

Next, grab your wooden skewer and poke a hole through the center of your petal cut outs. I do them one at a time, then match the first to the second to line them up and so on, to ensure the holes are all uniform and the petals will be centered well when threaded onto the wick.

Start threading your petals onto the wick, one at a time. If the wick end gets frayed, just rub your fingers on some beeswax sheet scraps and then smooth the wick with your waxy fingers; it should help the wick thread easier.

Once you’ve threaded all the petals on, carefully yet firmly press the center of petals down. You want them to stick firmly, without pressing so hard that the stem bends or cracks. When the petals are attached, you can begin to gently curve the top layers upward and the bottom layers downward to give them their layered petal look.

If you like, shape a leaf with your knife or scissors and press onto the stem.

For the butterfly, place your cutouts in to equal stacks. Cut two small pieces of wick just long enough for the candle and antennae.

Press the second stack onto the first firmly, squishing the middle a bit. Then, carefully separate the layers a little, so the wings look as if they are fluttering in flight.

These make wonderfully festive candles for a birthday ring!

Now enjoy! LEARN MORE.

#candles #candlemaking #rolledcandle

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femchef · 7 years ago

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Okay So How About Some Chocolate Mousse

If you ever wanted to know how to make chocolate mousse at home, this is the post for you!

So - chocolate mousse. A mousse can be sweet or savory, and typically employs whipped cream or egg whites to give an otherwise rich and heavy food a light and more appealing texture. Mousses are quite clever - you can take an ingredient with a hefty price tag, say fois gras or chocolate, and increase the useable volume AND serve a large meal while 1) not overwhelming guests with a single super heavy dish and 2) not sacrificing the flavor or the richness of the featured ingredient. The history of chocolate mousse isn't super well-documented, but sweet mousses were showing up in French kitchens in the latter half of the 19th century and savory mousses have been around since at least the mid-1700′s.

Now! A few things before we get started. FIRST: if we have to scale the technical difficulty of making chocolate mousse, let's call it an Intermediate Level Dish - in other words, someone with time management skills, equipment, and basic baking experience at home can put this together successfully. Just keep in mind that you will require a few special tools and ingredients. That brings us to the SECOND point!!! Special tools and ingredients!

There aren't a whole lot of ingredients required to put this recipe together, but two of the big ones are chocolate and gelatin.

DO NOT USE CHCOLATE CHIP MORSELS OR BAKING CHOCOLATE. If you do your project will end in tears and regret. AND FOR THE LOVE OF ST. HONORÉ, do NOT use candy melts.

Let’s be real - chocolate mousse is a splurge, it's not an everyday dessert. You need a couple days, three at most, to put this thing together. The chocolate is the featured ingredient here. Morsels are specifically made to NOT MELT in your cookies, baking chocolate is best left for fudge and brownies, and melts are just cocoa butter and some additives to help them set back up into hard candies. And ALL of these items will ruin your recipe if you use them here. So go ahead and get the nice stuff - this recipe will call for a semi-sweet. Look for a chocolate that falls between 60%-76% cocoa. The one I've used here is Cacao Barry 64% Extra Bitter:

Barry makes a lot of nice products, and they don't all come in 11lb bags, so no worries. If you're ordering online, I would recommend checking amazon, but if you have a Whole Foods nearby, they generally carry a selection of Valrhona (the fancy expensive super special brand of chocolate) if you just want to grab and go.

Gelatin. Please do yourself a favor and order some silver-grade sheets. Chances are you won't use them too often but you will have them for when you need them. The powdered gelatin is not that stable, and better used in sauces. Sheets come in grades - the short is, bronze is mostly a step up from powdered, and even most kitchens don't need the gold standard sheets. Gelatin sheets are a bit harder to find in stores, so again, pop over to amazon or a local kitchen supply if you have one.

Silicone Mold. Okay, this mousse recipe is designed to be piped into molds. If you would rather spoon it out over meringues, frost a cake or fill glasses with it, then go for it! That is totally fine. But for impressive (and best, tbh) results, go ahead and invest in a flexible silicone mold. silikomart is a very affordable Italian brand, and one sheet of molds ( 8-10 individual servings, depends on the shape you pick out) runs a very reasonable 14$ USD. Just make sure that if you DO invest in a silicone mold, that it is food safe grade silicone! I cannot emphasize that enough - please don't poison yourself or your diners. Buy it from a reputable dealer and double check the brand before you purchase.

Other stuff: you will probably also want to have a hand or stand mixer with whisk attachments, a scale (the entire recipe is measured by scale), and piping bags, which you can find at the craft store now, usually 5$ for a box of 10 bags. You will also want to invest in a set of biscuit/ring cookie cutters if you haven't already.

OKAY all the weird stuff out of the way!! Awesome. Now, let’s say you have all your necessary equipment and ingredients. Now. You didn't go to all this trouble just to make a dessert that will stick to a plate - you want to eat ALL the mousse. ALL OF IT.

So you need a base for your mousse. A foot rest. A pillow. This is why you should give yourself 2-3 days of time to prepare.

Most molded mousse desserts at restaurants will be sitting on either a very thin biscuit, or will have a slice of cake pressed to the bottom before freezing. I would say go with cake - it is the easiest solution. So, the day BEFORE you plan to make your mousse, go ahead and bake off a small single layer of your cake of choice. I used banana nut cake in the pictures below (we had a lot of scraps hanging around the bakery the other day) but use what your heart tells you. To make it easy on yourself and just go with vanilla or chocolate to compliment but not overshadow your mousse. Be sure to chill your cake in the refrigerator overnight.

MOUSSE DAY:

Alright! So you are making your mousse. Before I get in to the recipe, a couple (more!?) things: make SURE you have all your ingredients ready to go in to your recipe. Once you start your caramel things will happen pretty quick.

Also be prepared to use a lot of dishes. That is just part of the mousse process, unfortunately.

One other thing - this recipe, which is possibly the easiest, least troublesome chocolate mousse I have ever made, is adapted from the recipe we use at Etch in Nashville. Credit where it's due - this recipe is from Megan Williams, who is the head pastry chef and also my boss (and also a lovely human being, thank you for being a great boss!). All I've done here is reworked it to better suit at-home baking.

Just Chocolate Mousse

Semi-Sweet Chooclate: 13.6 ounces

Kosher Salt: 1/2 teaspoon

Scalded Heavy Cream: 8 ounces

Granulated Sugar: 3.5 ounces

Egg yolks: 5.8 ounces

Gelatin: 4 sheets, bloomed

Chilled Heavy Cream: 26 ounces, whipped to medium-stiff peaks

The Set Up

Let the chocolate and salt melt together in a double boiler (or in a steel/glass bowl over a pot with a scant two inches of water) on med-low heat, stirring occasionally until smooth and melted (Set aside for later).

While that's going, pour out the first cream in a sauce pot and as soon as it begins to boil remove from the heat and set aside.

To bloom your gelatin, fill a container with cool water and a handful of ice cubes, and submerge the sheets in it. Leave them in the ice water for about four or five minutes, then wring them out gently, pour off the water and ice, and set them aside in the container until you're ready to use. Have your egg yolks in another mixing bowl set aside for when you are ready to use them. If your kitchen is warm, you may want to take the mixing bowl you will be using to whip your cream in, and stick it AND the cream in the fridge together until you're ready to whip.

In yet ANOTHER sauce pan or pot (see what I mean about the dishes?) measure out your sugar. When the chocolate is melted and cream is scalded and both have been set aside, set the pot of sugar on the stove on medium heat. You are about to make what is called a dry caramel - literally just burning your sugar on a controlled temperature. Make sure the sugar is spread evenly over the bottom of the pan before you turn on the heat. Stir it gently with a heat-safe rubber spatula (in other words don't melt your favorite plastic spoon been there 0/10 recommend) until all the sugar is melted and has darkened to this color:

(Not actually sugar - this is my tea from this morning, but the color is exactly correct).

There may be a little smoking, but as long as you aren't burning black crud onto your pot you're good, just don't leave or step away and keep gently stirring.

When the caramel reaches this color REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT IMMEDIATELY and pour in all of your heated cream! It will steam up so don't lean over the pot, and just keep gently stirring until the cream and sugar are combined.

Now, toss in your gelatin and with a whisk, stir it into the caramel. Take the caramel mixture, and, with one hand whisking your egg yolks, slowly pour the caramel from the sauce pot with the other hand as you whisk. What you are doing is tempering your egg yolks so that they slowly cook and come up to temperature to make a nice creamy substance instead of a curdled paste.

Congratulations! This was the hardest step! If you've gotten this far you're good! Now, add the caramel cream to the melted chocolate and whisk it all together. You will want to take a spatula and scrape the sides down very well so that the chocolate mixture cools evenly. Set it aside but be sure to stir with the spatula occasionally to keep the chocolate from getting a skin on top.

Now is a good time to whip your chilled cream and move some of your dishes to the wash.

When the cream is whipped to medium-stiff peaks (should look fluffy and soft, but hold a nice shape), and so long as the chocolate mixture is at body temperature (lukewarm, not hot or cold, around 90-98F), you can begin folding the two together. Take a third of the cream and mix it in to your chocolate. You can be a bit rougher with the first third of the cream, since you're using it to loosen up the chocolate mixture and make it more receptive to the rest. Add in half the remaining cream and gently combine it. It's okay if it's a little streaky, but make sure you are scraping the bottom of the bowl with the spatula as you lift the mixture to the top of the bowl. Fold in the remaining cream. Your finished mousse should look something like this:

(Basically, it should look like mousse.)

So remember that cake you baked the day before? Take it out of the fridge. Grab your biscuit cutters and choose the size that is slightly smaller than the mold you are piping the mousse into. Now, cut out the number of pieces you need.

You will want the cake layer to be thin, not taller than a centimeter, so if the cake is tall, just cut your circles in half.

Now. - if you've invested in a mold for this, go ahead and whip it out. Hopefully you've rinsed and dried it out at least once before using it for your mousse. Now. You've come this far, it would be a shame if your mousse had weird pockets or air bubbles - and that is why it needs to be piped into the molds. Scooping or spooning it in isn't going to do you any good if you want the mousse to have a nice, even shape when you pop it out, and the pressure from your hand squeezing it out of the bag will fill in any air pockets. So you know. Don't skimp.

Once you've piped your mousse nearly to the top of the mold, take your cake circles and press them firmly but gently into the mousse. This will fill up any lingering space and also create a rim of mousse around the cake, so you don't see it when it's on the plate!

Now, pop those babies into the deepest darkest pits of your freezer and leave them there overnight. Yup. Give it a whole night. You want them to be entirely frozen before you pop them out of the silicone. Once they're frozen you can pop them out of the molds and store them in the freezer for a month or so. Which is great if you want to whip out amazing dessert at the last second for a dinner thing OR just eat them, because chocolate mousse is awesome even when it's frozen.

THE NEXT DAY:

The mousse should be nice and hard, and you should be able to quickly peel them out of the silicone

go ahead and either put them straight on to plates to serve or on a sheet in the fridge to pull out later.

Because of the cake on the bottom you can easily move them around with a spatula or fork onto dishes! If you are serving out of the freezer, let the mousse sit out at room temperature for about 10 minutes before you serve them, otherwise you can serve them straight out of the fridge.

And that's it! There are a lot of steps in the process, but it's actually pretty easy to do! I hope this post encourages someone out there to try it on their own!

#how to #food #dessert #mousse #chocolate

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