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radiorenjun · 5 years ago

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kitchen frolics || lee jeno

➶ pairing: lee jeno x reader

➶ genre: fluff, crack, romance, twitch streamer!au, (slight)YouTuber!au, non idol!au, college!au, established relationship

➶ word count: 14.8k

➶ synopsis: you and your boyfriend, Jeno, decided to do a Christmas cooking live stream on twitch with no cooking experience whatsoever. It's safe to say you two were just two loud, idiotic simps obnoxiously trying to cook with 6k people tells you say to do.

➶ warnings: swearing, angst if you squint, absolute clownery, jeno being a funny boyfriend, inaccurate recipe I found online, y/n accidentally inhaled yeast?

“Babe!” Jeno shouted, adjusting the camera in front of him before checking his phone for the time. “I’m coming! I’m coming hold up! You can start without me for a bit!” you exclaimed from the bathroom, finishing the final touches of your makeup.

“Alright then!” he responded, opening the live stream on his twitch account. Typing ‘Kitchen Frolics’ as the name of the live stream before pressing the spacebar to start the live with a click of his tongue. He waited and started staring at the screen as he watched the view count increase on the screen in a matter of a few seconds.

He let out a charming smile as the chat started flooding with greetings and calls of his name in caps lock or a large amount of emojis. “Hey everyone!” He greeted, leaning back and away from the camera so that his viewers could see his whole form as he clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

“It’s lovely to see you all on this lovely day!” he grinned, rubbing his hands together before pausing for a small moment to replay his words. “Fuck, did I just say ‘lovely’ twice?” he laughed lightly to himself.

Jeno leaned his arm on the counter beside the laptop, taking a moment to make sure he was still in the camera’s view before leaning his head down to read the comments flooding through the chat box. “‘Jeno, you look so tall’,” he read, squinting his eyes to read the small text on the corner of his screen.

“Oh, well thank you. I’m on my journey of being taller than Jisung,” he joked, looking around bashfully to cover up how flustered he felt at reading the comment. He examined the clean kitchen counter and adjusted the camera he set up so it can record his hands mixing like in those Tasty cooking videos on youtube.

“Anyways, not many of you know this. But I am an extremely talented cook. I’m a professional chef! Like, my cooking skill is at a professional level, okay? Gordon Ramsay complimented on my cooking skills multiple times in my dms, the man practically looks up to me,” Jeno said in an exaggerated tone, picking up an opened can of coke and pulling it to his lips. “So, me and y/n were bored and we decided to do a live stream today,” Jeno clears his throat, putting the can down on the counter behind him.

“So today, we’re going to cook! Using the finest ingredients and the finest cooking utensils that I could gather from my kitchen,” Jeno then grabbed a large wooden spoon behind him, waving it from the camera with a proud expression on his face. He chuckled when his eyes scanned the chat for a moment, people commenting random emojis and sarcastic replies rapidly filling the chat box. “What? You guys don’t believe me? The audacity!” Jeno placed a hand on his heart, pouting like a wounded puppy.

“Stop being so dramatic. Quite frankly, even I don’t believe you.” You snickered, walking into the kitchen as you tied the white apron around your waist. “Hello to everyone in the chat!” you waved at the camera eagerly, watching as people spam the chat box with your name. “You’re so mean. You know very well my cooking expertise is very much immaculate,” Jeno whined, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed his body to your side, jutting his bottom lip.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you pushed your boyfriend’s face away with your palm. “You’re such a crybaby. No PDA in the livestream, you simp.” You laughed, pinching both of his cheeks as he glared at you, brows furrowed cutely. “Whatever,” Jeno rolled his eyes at you, retracting his arms from your waist to look back at the camera, attempting to conceal the blush on the tips of his ears and cheeks when his eyes darted to the chat box on his laptop screen which was practically filled with people gushing how cute you two were.

“Anyways, what are we doing today my love?” You asked, as if he hadn’t told you this a couple hours before you started the live stream. You leaned your elbow against his shoulder, letting your arm limp over his chest casually as you stared at the camera with a wide smile. “We’re cooking today, Y/n!” Jeno smiled at the camera, placing his arm back around your waist. “And what are we cooking exactly, Jen?” you asked again, not tearing your eyes away from the camera lense.

“Since it’s going to be Christmas very soon, I decided that we should cook something that could fit the occasion,” Jeno exclaimed, watching as people spammed the chat box with guesses of food relating to the holiday. “Which is?” you mused, stretching out the vowels to tease your viewers a bit. You watched as the view count increased with every passing minute. “Pizza!” He cheered, giving the camera enthusiastic jazz hands, ignoring how his words made you furrow your brows, feeling equally as confused as the viewers.

“Wait what? I thought we were making those chocolate balls on tik tok?” you furrowed your brows pulling away from your boyfriend to glare at him with a perplexed expression. “Yeah, we were. But then, I realise we got to add some spice to this live stream and some originality,” Jeno grinned mischievously, causing you to pucker your lips in disappointment. “But, how is pizza even related to Christmas?” you asked once again. “Because I said so,” your boyfriend stuck his tongue out teasingly.

You let out a dramatic sigh, looking down at your cat slippers before letting out loud sniffles to show how distraught you were over the sudden change of plans. “Aw, man. I was hoping to make some hot chocolate. Can I get an F in the chat for the chocolate balls we’ve never had?” you exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand on your chest and raising the other as if you were making some sort of pledge as you looked at the chat box, watching as it blew up with a bunch of Fs.

“Thank you, everyone,” you wiped an invisible tear from your cheek, ignoring your boyfriend who rolled his eyes at your dramatic actions. “Shut up, babe. Anyways, before we waste any time, let’s get started!” Jeno rubbed his hands together, picking up a piece of paper in his hands which was a hand written recipe he probably found online. “I got the recipe from some random website, I’ll send the link to the recipe in the discord chat after the stream if you guys want,” he said, showing you the recipe in his hands.

“Well, this is going to get really messy. Are you sure Jaemin won’t mind us trashing the kitchen?” you asked, looking up at him with a raised brow. Jaemin was Jeno’s roommate who was an excellent cook. You couldn’t even count how many times he would kick you out of the kitchen to prevent you from eating any snacks whenever he was cooking something. Therefore, he definitely wouldn’t hesitate to ban the two of you from the kitchen if you make a huge mess.

“Oh come on, Jaemin is in his room editing his latest video. Even if we do manage to make a huge mess, we should be able to clean up before he finishes. What’s the worst thing that could happen, really?” Jeno chuckled, shrugging simply.

“YANGYANGsImp has donated $4! Says ‘Famous last words’” the speech bot said monotonously.

You let out a loud laugh, clapping your hands. “We’ll see, then” Jeno huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “Now, how do we get started on the pizza dough?” he asked, leaning over you to look at the laptop screen. You furrowed your brows once again, turning your head to your boyfriend to give him a deadpan expression. “We have instructions! Why are you asking them?” you asked with a laugh, causing Jeno to snicker.

“Listen, I only have the recipe written down. Not the whole ass instructions, I’m too lazy to do that.” Jeno waved it off, eyeing the chat carefully to see if anyone has given you information. “This isn’t a handwritten essay, Jeno. We have a printer,” you chuckled. “Hush, y/n,” he puts a finger to your lips, silencing you in an instant which makes you sigh heavily. “Okay, so. It says here that we need to boil some water,” he read, getting a large cup from the dispenser.

“I love how you didn’t hesitate to fill up a random cup with water just because someone told you to,” you snickered, looking at the camera with a hand on your hip before going back to read the comments in the chat. “Are you sure that’s even remotely correct?” you asked, turning to see Jeno coming towards you with a jug of warm water in his hands. “Beats me. Y/n, come help me pour the water to this huge ass cup,” Jeno ordered, earning a nod from you as you pulled out a large cup from the cupboard and watched as Jeno poured some water into it.

Jeno was a little bit clumsy so it was safe to say he spilled more than ‘a little’ water.

“Shit! It got on the fucking notes!” your boyfriend cursed, pulling away to put the jug back in the sink, ignoring your laughs as you waved your hand in front of the slightly wet paper in an attempt to dry it. “How did that even happen?” you giggled, blowing on the piece of paper as the chat started calling Jeno ‘an adorable klutz’. “Ah, shit.” Jeno wiped his hands against the fabric of his sweatpants. “They say it’s supposed to be two cups. That’s about the size of two cups right?” he asked, rolling the sleeves of his hoodie up his arms.

“I don’t know. Suddenly I’m Jared,19.” you joked, earning a soft flick to your forehead. “Dumbass. Jared 19 can’t read, not count.” he snickered, picking up the notes from your hand, cringing at the feeling of the wet paper in between his fingers. “Okay so, it says here that we should add a tablespoon of sugar.” he read aloud, pointing at the paper to show you and then proceeding to show the camera his notes.

“I didn’t know pizza had sugar in it,” you mumbled, walking over to the drawers to find the measuring tools. “I guess we learn something new everyday,” Jeno shrugged, watching you bring over some measuring spoons and lay them on the counter in front of the camera. “Wait, so which is which?” you asked, picking up the measuring spoons that were stuck together. “A tablespoon is for eating right? Just pick the one you usually use to eat,” Jeno shrugged, looking through the chat box.

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten with such spherical spoons before, Jeno,” you commented with a small giggle. Jeno sighed, grabbing the measuring tools from your grasp to examine them himself. “This just proves my point even more. I have immaculate cooking skills, indeed,” he boasted, pulling out what seems to be the biggest measuring tool you had given him. You furrowed your brows at this, “wait, are you sure that’s a tablespoon?” you asked.

“Well it has a number one in the middle here,” Jeno pointed at the inner part of the measuring tool, showing you the small number printed on the plastic. “That seems like a lot for a table spoon,” you mumbled watching as Jeno shook the powdery substance into the measuring tool. “I didn’t know pizza had this much sugar,” you added on. “You didn’t know pizza had sugar to begin with, y/n,” Jeno deadpanned, walking over to the cup of warm water.

Before he could pour it, your eyes wandered to the screen of your laptop only to widen your eyes at the amount of people telling you to stop. “Wait, Jeno. Why are they saying stop?” you exclaim, putting a hand on his arm to halt him from doing anything else. Jeno let out a noise of confusion, turning his head to the screen as well as he furrowed his brows to read the small text. “Wait, what’s going on? What did we do wrong? Why is everybody telling us to stop?” Jeno asked, eyes scanning the chat room to see if anyone was pointing out what you were doing wrong.

“Listen, you guys aren’t the one risking your lives sneaking into Jaemin’s territory here okay? You’re not the one putting your lives on the line just to cook a pizza,” Jeno huffed, waving a wooden spoon at the camera with a pouting frown on his lips as you scanned through the chat box. “This is a very futile attempt of being the next Gordon Ramsay,” Jeno laughed, turning his head at you.

Then it hits you like a truck.

“Jeno! I swear we’re absolute fucking morons. That is not a tablespoon,” you let out a loud laugh, taking the other measuring spoons into your hands as Jeno let out a small ‘oh’, laughing along with you. “Wait a sec, is this a cup?” he exclaimed, finally realising his mistake as he examined the measuring tool which he had now placed on the counter in front of you. “Oh shit, it is a cup! Whoopsie! Our bad! Our bad!” you laughed, showing him an actual tablespoon which was about 4 times smaller than the cup. You both started laughing at your own stupidity, putting a tablespoon of sugar into the warm water.

“Wait, let’s add a little more,” you grinned, picking up an eighth of a tablespoon of sugar and dunking it in with no hesitation. “Babe, no don’t-” Jeno wasn’t able to stop you before dumping the sugar into the water. “We’re going to have really sweet pizza, huh?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he let out a soft laugh.

“Sweet like you,” you winked, causing your boyfriend to roll his eyes at you. “What did you say about the no PDA on live streams, again?” Jeno’s lips quirked up into a small smirk before shaking his head profusely at you. “Alright dumbass, let’s just keep going with this.” you both snickered at each other before stirring the sugar until it dissolves.

“Okay, what’s next-” Jeno clicked his tongue, leaning to the screen of your laptop before you decided to cut him off. “Jeno.” you called out, seeming lost in thought. “Yeah?” he hummed, turning to you for a split second before scanning his eyes through the chat box. “Babe, have you washed your hands?” you asked in a rather hesitant voice, turning to him slowly and eerily. Jeno opened his mouth to respond before furrowing his brows in thought as if to say ‘did I?’

He let out a loud dramatic gasp before turning to the sink. “Shit, right! Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” he rambled in a panicked tone, eliciting another laugh from you as you watch him frantically wash his hands. The chat box was soon filled with Jeno’s name in caps lock, either laughing or clowning at him for saying how he was ‘a professional chef’ but he still forgot to wash his hands. “Oh my god, so all this time you’ve been touching these ingredients with your filthy hands,” you wheezed, hitting the counter as you laughed. “And to think that this global pandemic was actually going to teach us the importance of washing our hands,” you laughed even harder.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry. My hands are squeaky clean now! I swear I have not contaminated the water with my hands!” Jeno laughs, wiping his hands against the fabric of his black hoodie, pushing his glasses up to his nose before showing his slightly wet hand. “I assure you, Jeno’s restaurant is cleaner than my reputation!” Jeno puts his hands together as an apology, staring at the camera with his puppy dog eyes. “Great hygiene comes with great pizza,” you snickered, earning a death glare from the taller boy standing beside you, his lips forming an angry pout.

“Watch me get cancelled for forgetting to wash my hands,” Jeno puts his hand on his hip, chuckling at you. “Rest in peace your reputation, then. May covid-19 graciously carry you to the afterlife,” you waved him off without batting an eye, laughing hard after a few seconds of silence. “Go away,” Jeno snorted, pushing you out of the camera view gently as you both giggled.

“Jeno, we just started and you can already see how terrible this is going,” you commented with a soft snort. Jeno let out a light laugh of his own as he walked away to grab the yeast from the cabinet. “I think this wouldn’t be so bad if my girlfriend was actually helping!” he retorted, closing the door with an accusatory finger at you. “Hey, I’m actually helping!” you exclaimed with wide eyes before looking at the ingredient list he wrote. “Look! Two tablespoons of yeast! I’m definitely helping. Right, chat?” you turned to the camera with a proud grin, only to be faced with a bunch of ‘no’s or ‘whatever you say, y/n.’

“I love how they’re agreeing with me,” he snickered, pointing at the laptop screen. “Lovethe90s has donated $2! Says ‘y/n, we love you but so far, you’ve just been laughing at Jeno’,” the speech bot said, causing Jeno to laugh even more as he watched your jaw drop to the floor. “I love how none of you are taking my side. This is clearly favoritism,” you commented with a sad nod before feeling Jeno wrap an arm around your waist lovingly.

“It’s okay, boo. You’re still my girlfriend, no matter how unhelpful you are.” Jeno giggled, nuzzling his head against yours as you frowned at the camera. “That’s good to know,” you mumbled before smacking him on the chest and pushing him off of you. “Anyways, where were we?” Jeno rolled his eyes at you, opening the packet of yeast in his hands. “So two tablespoons of this?” he asked, looking up at you for confirmation.

“That’s what your ingredient list says,” you shrugged, showing him the now crumpled paper. He furrowed his brows, adjusting his glasses before shrugging. “Two tablespoons of yeast it is, then,” he chuckled, handing you the yeast and watching you scoop out the powdery substance into the large cup. You coughed, scrunching your face before turning away from the camera. “Oh fuck, I think I accidentally inhaled it,” you groaned, ignoring your laughing boyfriend as you went out of the camera view to grab yourself a glass of water.

“You okay, babe?” Jeno called out, turning his head to look at you with slight concern. You coughed, feeling the sting up your nose as you walked back into the camera with teary eyes, groaning as Jeno continued to laugh at your suffering. “Next is… Mixing!” Jeno exclaimed, ignoring how you continued your coughing fit behind him. “Babe, can you hand me something to mix?” he turned to you, watching you glare at him with the most angriest look you could muster.

“Fine,” you croaked, opening the drawer in front of you before taking out a wooden spatula and handing it to him. “Thank you!” he squeaked, grabbing the spatula from you oh-so-casually before stirring the mixture in the cup. “Now, we’re going to mix all this up until it’s thoroughly combined and incorporated,” Jeno exclaimed as you finally walked over to him, watching as your silly boyfriend continued to stir the yeast with (supposedly Jaemin’s favourite) wooden spatula.

“Just a word of warning, we’re definitely going to get banned from the kitchen if Jaemin ever decides to come out of his room at the time of this live stream,” you commented casually, leaning your elbow on his shoulder and leaning your head against him as you watched the chat box erupt with laughs and internet slangs. Jeno gulped, nodding with a nervous chuckle. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’m being Gordon Ramsay Junior here, y/n. Can’t you be more supportive for your loving boyfriend?” he pouted.

“I would if you didn’t laugh at my misery all the damn time,” you shot back, your free hand reaching out to pinch his cheeks gingerly. He huffed, rolling his eyes at you as he shook your hand away. “You know I still love you,” you grinned, turning your head so you can stare deeply into his dark eyes. He paused his stirring, mirroring your actions as he turned his head to gaze into your eyes and your lips. “Yes, yes I do,” he nodded, pressing a small kiss on your nose before pulling the spatula out of the cup.

“When Nicki Minaj said ‘yes, I do the cooking. Yes, I do the cleaning,’ I swear this isn’t what you think,” Jeno mumbled under his breath, causing you to let out a laugh. “Stop! Oh my god, we’re never going to finish this,” you wheezed, moving the cup away to let the yeast sit for a bit. “Wait, let me pour the sugar back into the container, you can rest for a bit,” you snickered, grabbing the container filled with sugar and the previous cup you used.

“Okay, don’t spill anything, love!” Jeno cooed, leaning against the counter and sipping his can of coke as he continued reading the comments with the occasional speech bot speaking whenever someone donated or subscribed to your stream. “‘Can you add pineapple on pizza?’” he read aloud, furrowing his brows in concern before looking at the camera. “Not to shit on your taste in pizzas, but what the fuck?” he cocked his head to the side to look at you slowly pouring sugar from the cup into the small opening of the container.

“I’m seriously concerned, right now,” you joked, closing the container once you got the sugar back in. “Great, now. We just need a bowl to mix our dough in,” you said, opening the dish racks to see if there were any clean bowls left. Jeno and Jaemin were two broke college students, just like you, so it didn’t surprise you much if you found that all the bowls were either still in the dishwasher or hidden somewhere in their rooms as they usually spent hours on their desks playing games while eating ramen on days end.

“Jeno, do you have any bowls left?” you asked, looking up at the male. “All there’s left here is a strainer. Also, why do you have a strainer?” you furrowed your brows in confusion, making Jeno click his tongue in thought. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it shut. “I’ll ask Jaemin if there’s any bowls left,” he mumbled, eliciting another light hearted laugh from you as he walked out of the camera to call out Jaemin’s name.

“HasbeenTaeil has donated $6.46! Says ‘You two are so adorable my single ass can’t- Love you both! Stay safe!’

You look up at the camera with a bashful smile. “Aw, thanks. You guys are cute too!” you exclaimed, spreading your arms open to give your fans (the camera) a hug. “Thank you all for the donations, by the way. We are always so grateful to everyone who subscribed and donated, you guys are seriously the best!” you smiled widely, watching as the viewer count increased to 6k. “I can’t believe 6 thousand people are watching Jeno and I attempt to make a pizza from scratch,” you commented with a proud grin.

“Okay so I asked Jaemin,” Jeno came back, adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie as he walked into the camera’s view. “And he said he doesn’t know either,” he grinned nervously, causing you to roll your eyes. “Oh my god, how are we going to make the dough without getting things messy now?” you groaned, scanning through the kitchen to find an alternative.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Right, chat-”

“Wait a minute-never mind!” your bo.yfriend laughed, pulling out a bowl behind the camera on the counter. “It was behind the camera all along, shit!” he wheezed, taking a step back to take in how idiotic the two of you are. “Damn, we really need to check our eyes,” you snickered, rubbing your temples as you suppressed the urge to facepalm. “This just shows how perfect we are for each other,” you added, earning a cough from Jeno.

As soon as you said that, the chat box was instantly filled with people commenting on how much of a simp you are. The worst part was that most of them were in caps lock, which made things even more hilarious. “Awe, y/n really be simping for me on a live stream. Someone play ‘Feel Special’ by Twice,” Jeno cooed, giving you a smug expression before earning a smack on the back from you. “Shut up! You’re a simp for me as well!” smacking him lightly with each word as he let out a small chuckle.

“I can’t deny that,” Jeno winked. You gaped at how bold your boyfriend was being. “You did not just ruin the fantasies of the people who wrote fanfiction about you!” you laughed, watching as the chat box erupted with comments of people saying how much you were whipped for each other. “Wattpad territory was terrifying. I swear, if you search my name up on that specific website. Most of them are like 18+. And I don’t know how I feel about that,” Jeno shook his head with a joking smile, bringing the flour to the counter.

“Oh come on. You were basically fangirling when we did that stream of reading fanfictions about each other,” you smirked at him, nudging his side softly as he opened the packet of flour. “That’s because it was about you and me! Despite how angsty it was, it was still very much intriguing. Plus, they basically gave me ideas on what to do on our next date, it’s a win-win situation!” Jeno retorted with an incredulous laugh.

“And that ladies and gentlemen, is the evidence I need to prove that our Jeno here, read fanfictions about me! A.K.A his precious girlfriend, let’s give him a round of applause!” you clapped your hands while shaking your head, watching as Jeno glared at you with a raised brow, his eyes darting at the chat box who were still calling him out for being a major simp. “This is misleading information, I should sue you,” Jeno said rather monotonously. But you all knew he was just joking.

“You can’t sue the person you simp for, Jeno-”

“Winderellaprincess has donated $3! Says ‘is this a cooking show or a battle of two simps? I mean- I’m not complaining’”

“Oh shit!” you both cursed in unison. “I totally forgot we were cooking, oh fuck!” you laughed, clapping your hands. “We really are simps,” Jeno teased, making the two of you laugh even more. “Go away!” you mused as you picked up the handwritten paper Jeno wrote. “Okay, so, your paper says that we need three cups of flour,” you read aloud, tossing the paper back on the counter. “Three cups?” Jeno asked, picking up the cup you both previously used for the sugar.

“A half of the packet looks like three cups to me-”

“Jeno, no, I still want to be able to walk into this kitchen without Jaemin whacking my head with a pan,” you shook your head, grabbing the packet from him and leaning it to the side. “Fine, I’ll just hold the cup,” Jeno giggled as you both continued to use the measuring cup to pour in the flour into the bowl. “Oh fuck! Shit, sorry!” you laughed after spilling a bit of flour onto the counter and some onto the floor. You both wheezed as you took a few steps back to compose yourselves.

“I fucking swear, we’re never cooking together ever again,” you shook your head, standing weakly as you tried to stop laughing.

“Kwangyaman has donated $2! Says ‘now I see why Jaemin doesn’t allow ya’ll to step foot into the kitchen’”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” you wiped a tear from your eye as you tried to keep yourself from laughing too hard. “My stomach hurts from laughing,” Jeno scrunches his face cutely, showing his crescent moon-shaped eyes as he continues to laugh. “I told you we should just dump half of the packet in!” he exclaimed, dropping the packet of flour on the counter carelessly as he examined the mess you made. “Oh god, Jaemin’s going to fucking kill us!”

“itsjunrenhuang has donated $4.99! Says ‘we stan Gordon Ramsay’s walmart children’”

“We appreciate the compliment,” you snorted, waving your hand off as you tried to dust off the flour to the floor, inevitably covering your slippers in the process. “It’s the genes,” Jeno added with a soft laugh. “Shawn Mendes once said ‘it isn’t in my blood’ and Jeno clearly ignored him,” you teased, looking back at the handwritten paper on the counter. “I swear, if this doesn’t taste good. I’m just going to buy a personal chef,” you muttered under your breath, wiping the flour on your apron.

“You’re talking as if you could afford one,” Jeno shot back, earning a small huff from you. “Just so you all know, thank you so much for donating. We’ll read through all the donations after the live stream. The donations will be spent on this magnificent restaurant!” he exclaimed with his hands on his hips, moving to read the comments. “Alright, mister. Let’s get back to cooking before our real personal chef gets out of his natural habitat,” you patted Jeno’s shoulder, leaning over to look at the recipe with him.

“‘Three quarters of a tablespoon of salt’,” he read before reaching up to open the cupboard to find some salt. “I swear, we still have some salt leftover,” he mumbled, causing your eyes to go wide at his statement. “Imagine if you ran out though?” you mused, raising a brow as you turned to face the camera. “Shut up, I found it,” Jeno pulled the container half filled with salt from the cupboard and twisted the lid open with a small grunt before handing the container to you.

“Okay, three quarters of a tablespoon-” you stuck your tongue out in concentration as you dipped the tablespoon in and eyeballed it. “That’s about three quarters, right?” you showed your boyfriend the spoon who narrowed his eyes at it before nodding simply. “Yeah, I think so.” he nodded at you, giving you a soft shrug as you frowned. “By the way if you guys are wondering what salt we’re using. It’s the uh-” you turned the container of salt in your hands and furrowed your brows to read the label.

“You’re saying that as if they don’t have salt at home,” Jeno snickered. “Really shows how much you love salty foods,” he poked your cheek as you let out a frustrated huff. “Hey, at least I have some spice in my life!” you retorted with a shuddering laugh, raising the container of salt as if you were aiming to hit him. “Anyways we’re using Kosher salt,” you grinned at the camera, showing the salt container as if it wasn’t a famous local brand.

“moonhannah just donated $5! Says ‘who let these adorable babies in the kitchen? This is all so chaotic’”

You and Jeno looked up at the camera at this, brows furrowed as you stared back at the camera with offended expressions. “We’re grown adults!” you both whined in unison before turning back to the dough without a second thought. “Hey chat, do you guys think we should add more flour? This doesn’t look enough,” you asked, putting the bowl under the camera on the counter, making sure that your viewers could see it.

“Again, you should’ve listened to me and added half of the packet,” Jeno huffed, waddling over to you with the packet of flour in his hands. “But doesn’t half seem a bit too much?” your eyebrows quirked up slightly at him. “Once again, we need originality and creativity, love.” Jeno shrugged, finishing his coke before tossing it to the trash can and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before putting a bit more flour into the bowl.

“Hakuna Matata,” you chuckled, earning a loud yell from your boyfriend. “Stop! We’re going to get fucking copyrighted!” Jeno laughed, picking up the wooden spatula on the counter to wave it in front of your face. “A sexy lawsuit from Disney,” you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly as Jeno choked on his own spit. “Why am I dating you again?” he coughed, stifling a laugh.

“Next!” you exclaimed, peering your eyes at the paper on the counter once again. “Virgin oil,” you read aloud before turning to Jeno who was opening a new can of coke from the fridge. “Excuse me, what?” Jeno coughed, adjusting to the tingly sparks on his tongue as he drank. “Virgin oil,” you repeated with the same casual tone before Jeno furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Do we even have that?” Jeno mumbled to himself.

“Jeno, this is your kitchen! How do you not know?” you said incredulously, putting a hand on your hip and your other hand on the counter. He coughed, giving you an innocent eye smile before opening cabinets to see if he actually does have some virgin oil stored somewhere. “Shut up, Jaemin is usually the only one who actually does the grocery shopping around here. I don’t know shit about the kitchen!” Jeno laughed, ignoring the speech bot’s monotonous voice as people started flooding the chat box with how chaotic this was.

“Gordon Ramsay genes, huh?” you mused with a smirk on your lips. “Shut up, I found it, dumbass,” he stuck his tongue out childishly at you before grabbing the tablespoon you were using previously. “Okay, so three tablespoons of virgin oil?” he asked, turning his head at the paper in your hands, receiving a silent nod from you. “You better not poke me or anything unless you want a very oily pizza, y/n,” he chuckled, twisting the bottle open as he spoke.

You scoffed incredulously. “Wouldn’t think of it,” you said in a sardonic tone as you watched Jeno carefully pour in about three tablespoons of oil. “Now, we add the yeast right?” you asked, picking up the cup that has been sitting on the side for a while, sniffing it before cringing and holding back a gag. “Oh god, that fucking stinks,” you croaked, breathing from your mouth as you try to get the smell out of your mind.

“Why did you smell it?” Jeno chuckled, taking the jug away from you as you coughed. “Curiosity killed the cat, Jeno,” you stated as you came up to see that Jeno had formed a hollow space in the middle of the bowl with the flour and poured the oil in the middle to make it seem like some sort of small puddle. “So, do we like- mix it first or add the yeast first then mix it?” you asked with a cock of your eyebrow.

“I think we add the yeast first,” Jeno said in a more questioning tone than a statement. “Are you sure?” you asked, turning to your boyfriend who scratched his head in confusion. “Nope, that’s why you’re going to do it,” he handed you back the jug with a cheeky grin, putting his hands in his pockets as if you were going to shove it back to him. You raised your brows in surprise, “me? Why me?” you exclaimed with an incredulous laugh.

“Because, I’ve been doing this myself. It’s your turn now,” he grinned, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. You glared at him intensely, mumbling small incoherent swears under your breath as you started to pour the yeast little by little, cringing at the foul smell. “So we just start mixing, just like that?” you asked as you put the cup back down on the corner of the counter. Jeno hummed in confirmation, opening the fridge to fetch out three cookies.

He shoved one into his mouth before handing you the spatula he used for mixing the yeast earlier. “Just mix it all up until it's fully incorporated,” Jeno nodded, putting a cookie in front of your mouth as an offering. You furrowed your brows, leaning back to examine the cookie in his hands before biting down with a small ‘nom!’.

“Does this count as vegan pizza?” you asked, looking up at Jeno before you scraped the sides of the bowl to get more flour into the mixture. “Huh?” Jeno responded with a perplexed expression. “What do you mean?” he asked. “The yeast. It’s like tofu-based yeast, I think,” you cocked your head to the side to gesture at the packaging. “But, we’re going to put cheese and pepperoni on the pizza. Does it still make it vegan?” Jeno mused, a light chuckle eliciting from his lips.

You paused, clicking your tongue before waving it off.

“Moving on!”

“Compared to those cooking videos on youtube and instagram, I think it’s safe to say we suck at this,” you said as you began mixing the ingredients together with the spatula he gave you, trying to chew in between your words. “What are you talking about? It doesn’t look that bad. Plus, we’re barely halfway through the damn process, don’t judge a book by it’s cover, y/n.” he huffed, pointing at the dough that has started to form.

“Jeno, I’ve seen too many Tasty youtube videos. I know what a good pizza dough looks like,” you paused your mixing to look at him and give him a disbelief scoff. Jeno rolled his eyes at this before pushing his last cookie into your mouth. “Excuse you, I’m the chef here. We are streaming from my account, therefore, you have no place to say if it’s bad or not because you simply haven’t tried it yet!” Jeno huffed, pinching your nose gingerly as he scrunched his nose cutely at you.

You sighed, chewing the cookie in your mouth anyway as you continued mixing till a small dough started to form. “But this doesn’t look right, Jeno,” you informed, moving the bowl closer to your boyfriend and using the spatula to prove your point. From what you two have seen on youtube, pizza dough was supposed to be stretchy and sticky like those pizza makers who flips the pizza in the air with their hands oh-so-majestically.

However, compared to those videos, your dough was more like a literal embodiment of your lives. The dough was hard and rigid like hard cookie dough. It was tearing apart like dried play doh with every turn of your spatula and the dough appeared to be way smaller than the humongous amount of flour you added previously. Which was a big problem.

“Fnafenthusiast has donated $2! Says ‘the dough looks dry asf, are you sure that’s not play doh?’”

Jeno glanced up at the laptop screen at this, furrowing his brows at the statement. “Hold your horses there, buddy. This is not play doh! I assure you, it just needs a bit more mixing. At least I think-” he scrunches his nose with crossed arms, causing you to raise a brow at him. “You ‘think’, huh?” you raised a brow at him, shaking your head as you proceeded to mix the dough, cringing internally at how the dough kept breaking apart.

“Jeno, I’m not kidding. The dough looks more broken than my old Nintendo DS,” you commented, causing Jeno to click his tongue in thought. “Maybe you just need to mix it even more? I mean, we’ve been following the recipe,” Jeno scratched the back of his neck as he held the bowl and leaned it closer to him. “The recipe filled with only ingredients and no other instructions whatsoever, you mean?” you said sarcastically.

“Hey, listen. I was writing an essay that night as well, my wrists were about to snap off if I wrote down the whole recipe-” Jeno was soon cut off when you quickly dipped your fingers into the opened packet of flour and smeared it across his face and hoodie. “Hey!” he exclaimed, wiping the powdery substance off of his cheeks with a frown on his face.

“Shut up,” you grinned before Jeno swiped his fingers against the counter which was still partially covered with flour and pinched your cheek eagerly. “I hate you so much,” he stated with a soft chuckle, his previously taken aback expression morphing into one filled with love and adoration. “Of course you do,” you nodded before looking at the camera while wiping the flour off of your cheeks, unaware that some of it was still staining your cheeks.

“Itsoraanchhey just donated $4! Says ‘snort the flour’” the speechbot said monotonously.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, definitely not doing that,” you looked down at the dough, mushing it around with the spatula. “This is a family friendly live stream, okay. No snorting here!” Jeno laughed, tutting as he waved his index finger at the audience. “Don’t do drugs kids!” you both exclaimed in unison, giving the camera enthusiastic jazz hands. “Or it’s jail time!” you added before snickering to yourselves.

“Where are we even going with this?” Jeno snorted.

“Time to knead the dough!” you exclaimed eagerly. To be honest you were waiting for this part since he told you that you were making pizza instead of chocolate balls. “Alright then. I’m going to go wash my hands again,” Jeno nodded, smacking his hands together as he walked towards the sink, letting you divide the dough in half with your wooden cooking utensil. “I’m sure this is enough, right?” you looked up at the camera with a nervous yet hopeful smile.

“c-sanshone just donated $5.66! Says ‘no’” the speech bot said, causing you to frown involuntarily.

“You guys really should learn to be supportive of other people’s goals. The point here is to have fun and to chat with all you lovely people,” you huffed, putting your hands on your hips sassily in an attempt to scold your viewers. “I thought the point of all this was so that we could eat something that isn’t frozen pre-made food,” Jeno jokes, waving his wet hands at you, causing water droplets to hit your cheeks at the rapid movement.

“That too,” you nodded with a small hum.

“Okay but let’s get these out of the way, first,” you started picking up the measuring cups lying around the counter and putting them back in their place as Jeno helps put back the leftover ingredients into the cabinets. “We should never open a restaurant,” you concluded, looking at the evenly divided dough that was barely holding itself together. “As much as it pains me to say, I agree,” Jeno nodded with a heavy sigh.

“Gordon Ramsey, we’ll make you proud someday,” Jeno cried dramatically, scrunching his face as he let out a fake sob, wiping invisible tears off of his cheeks. “Gordon Ramsay went ham on Mark’s cooking show, do you think he’ll give us mercy if we tweet out the current conditions of our dough?” you asked, kissing your teeth as you recalled the iconic tweet Gordon Ramsay himself made when he reacted to your friend cooking a sunny side up egg for the first time in his life.

“Xiaojun was holding a fire extinguisher. I’m sure he would be proud of us for making it this far without fucking it up too much,” he shrugged, examining the mess of state your kitchen was in. “Oh bless the lord, hope we don’t end up burning the house or breaking the oven,” you groaned to yourself, rubbing your forehead in distress before a sudden realisation washed over you.

“Jeno,” you called out with wide eyes. “Yeah?” Jeno replied shortly, scrolling through the crowded chat box on the laptop screen. “Have we preheated the oven?” you asked, slowly turning your head towards him to increase suspense. Jeno’s eyes went wide for a second and you swore you could hear Renjun singing ‘wae naneun neoreul mannaseo!” and Taeil singing ‘apado gwaenchana’ flamboyantly in the background.

“Fuck, I forgot!” Jeno exclaimed, watching you rush to the oven to adjust the settings. “I’m sorry!” he laughed, watching you fiddle with the settings before turning it on to preheat the oven. “Fuck,” you groaned, suppressing the urge to bang your head against the kitchen counter as your boyfriend continued to laugh behind you.

“Wait, how much was it again?” you asked, looking back at your boyfriend who quickly grabbed the piece of paper and squinted his eyes at it. “430 frames per secon- I mean, fahrenheit!” Jeno squeaked, coughing at his small mistake, causing you to chuckle. “Jeno this isn’t an animation video, also 430 frames is a lot,” you pressed the button to turn on the oven before smacking your hands together with a heavy sigh.

“I need a vacation after this whole video,” you grumbled as you stomped back over to the front of the camera.

“Too bad, love. It’s covid season, you’re not escaping me anytime soon,” he planted a loud wet smooch on your cheek, pulling you close against his side for a brief second before letting you go as if nothing had happened. “Let’s stop this tomfoolery and get back to work, shall we?” Jeno smiled with a clap of his hands, picking up the packet of flour you used earlier and dipping his fingers in to sprinkle some of it onto the kitchen counter.

“Salt bae, indeed,” you snickered, making Jeno pinch his fingers together in an attempt to mimic the said meme, eliciting small giggles from the both of you. “Oh my god, Jaemin’s going to fucking kill us,” he laughed, realising that he should’ve sprinkle on the cutting board displayed right in front of you instead of the counter. “At least we managed to have fun,” you waved it off casually, ignoring how panicked you actually were on the inside.

“Goodbye, midnight ramen. You will be missed,” Jeno patted his chest sadly, clutching the fabric as if he was the main character in a play with a tragic backstory.

“Kainoticedme just donated $7! Says ‘the motto of this whole stream should be Sometimes It’s Okay To Give Up’”

“Hey! What do you mean ‘give up’?” you retorted with a scoff, putting your hands on your hips. “No one’s giving up anything today, okay?” you exclaimed with a firm shake of your head. “What a pep talk,” Jeno clapped his hands unceremoniously as he stared at the camera with a deadpan expression. “Insert that meme of Lady Gaga saying a bunch of synonyms of ‘amazing’, please!” Jeno clapped his hands harder before taking a step back to dodge your soft smacks.

“Shut up!” you laughed, retracting your hand as your boyfriend dodged your hits before watching Jeno come up with the bowl filled with dough. A proud smile stretching across his lips as he rhythmically taps his fingers against the plastic bowl. “Okay, check this out!” he exclaimed, flipping the bowl over with no hesitation before shaking it when the dough wasn’t coming out. “Stop, Jeno, that’s not a macaron batter. Babe, it’s gonna-”

The dough flopped on the counter not-so-graciously when it finally pulled away from the bowl, making the flour go everywhere: on your clothes, faces and everywhere else on the counter. “Lee Jeno!” you exclaimed, your mouth gaping open as you patted your shirt to dust the flour away. “Y/N L/N!” he mimicked your tone teasingly with a boyish grin, wiping the flour off of his cheek before smearing it even more on your clothes.

“Stop! I didn’t bring a change of clothes!” you whined, swatting his hand away with a laugh. “Oh calm down, you drama queen. You can use my clothes after this,” he rolled his eyes at you, putting the bowl aside on the counter as you continued to complain and whine about how you’re never going to forgive him for ruining your favourite shirt. “You’re the drama queen!” you shot back with a finger pointing directly at him. “Why did you have to do that?” you exclaimed with a whine.

“Originality and creativity, love,” Jeno shrugged, collecting the dough and playing with the mixture innocently as if he hadn’t made a mess of the kitchen and your clothes for laughs. “I hate you,” you mumbled under your breath, taking a few steps back to dodge his upcoming kisses when he turned his body to face you. “Aw man, I wanted to kiss your floury face,” he pouted, causing your heart to skip a beat at his words.

“Later,” you rolled your eyes at him, letting him off the hook for being an idiot. An adorable idiot.

Wait no, YOUR adorable idiot.

“Okay let’s do some teamwork and knead the dough together!” Jeno exclaimed, pulling you alongside him in front of the camera before kneading the dough closest to him. “Why is this harder than it looks?” you snorted as you began to slowly massage the dough with your palms. “Shh!” Jeno shushed, his lips puckering as he made soft shushing noises. “Let the dough do it’s work, all you have to do is knead it to perfection,” he spoke softly.

“I highly doubt that,” Jeno added almost inaudibly, making you chuckle at your boyfriend. “I love how you’re just exaggerating and blowing things up out of proportion,” he commented, turning to look at you. You glanced up at him with a small hum, cocking your head to the side in confusion which made Jeno’s stomach do somersaults. “Originality and creativity, babe,” you quoted, giggling slightly.

“Please, Rie McClenny would be screaming in pain if she ever finds this video,” Jeno rolled his eyes before leaning close to the mic above the camera to whisper against it. “Tasty please sponsor me, I swear I won’t burn down the whole kitchen,” he whispered loudly, eliciting laughs from your audience. “Tasty, we’re open for sponsors or collabs!” you joined in on his little joke, tossing the dough up in the air before letting it flop down on the counter, inevitably making a larger mess.

“Hey! You’re copying me!” Jeno whined, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “How quaint,” you replied in a bittersweet tone, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before focusing on kneading the dough again. “That’s it.” Jeno stopped kneading his dough to cross his arms against his chest with a small pout on his lips. “I’m terminating our friendship!” he huffed, looking away from you childishly, trying not to crack up at his pathetic attempts to act cute.

“So? Do you prefer us to be lovers instead?” you mused, wiggling your eyebrows instead before laughing hard when you saw your boyfriend letting out a loud groan. “God, you’re annoying,” he laughed, slinging an arm around your waist to give you a small side hug before pulling away to continue punching the life out of his dough.

“Nimoncross has donated $10! Says ‘the amount of tik tok and meme references in this live stream is astronomical’”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you both sighed heavily. “Why is the dough sticking onto the counter?” you chuckled nervously, looking up at your boyfriend who was dealing with the same problem himself. “Just knead it a bit more? At least that’s what Jaemin said when we ran through the recipe,” Jeno scratched the back of his head in confusion, not acknowledging how he got flour on his hair again until you began to dust it off for him.

“Remember that video of Rie Mclenny cooking a pizza with zero waste?” you asked, turning to your boyfriend as you two began poking holes into the dough. “Not really, why?” he shook his head at you. “I remember her dough was super stretchy and squishy. Also her dough bounces back if you poke it, while ours… don’t. There’s something definitely wrong with our dough,” you laughed, wiping your hands against your white apron.

“Okay, that’s probably because we’re using a whole different recipe than hers,” Jeno shrugged carelessly as he continued to fiddle with the dough on the counter.

“Okay, but all jokes aside, it’s actually sticking to the counter. Jaemin’s going to fucking kill us,” Jeno stated with a light hearted laugh, pulling the dough back to bunch it up in his palms only for some of it to stick to the counter and tear apart. “Oh god, we’re never going to be allowed in this kitchen ever again,” you complained with a small whine, grabbing the bowl you set aside and putting your doughs back in.

“I think it’s best we leave those be till we decide what to do with them,” Jeno said, turning to wash his hands in the sink with you right behind him. “Leeteukspeaks has donated $8! Says ‘add more flour, oml. We’ve been telling you this for the past fifteen minutes!’” the speech bot said, attracting your attention back to the camera as you walked back to the counter. “Add more flour?” you asked, looking at the sticky doughs in the bowl with an unsure expression.

“If I remember correctly, it’s supposed to be like that, we just gotta let it rest,” Jeno said, cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “Chill out, chat. We know what we’re doing. My restaurant is a five star restaurant, just trust the process,” Jeno assured the audience who just continued to spam the chat box with a series of ‘no’s and ‘you guys are idiots, listen to us!’.

“Though, we got to leave it to rest for a whole hour. So,” he reached over to the other side of the counter where another bowl was wrapped with a sheet of plastic wrap over it and plopping it down in front of the camera. “We prepared another bowl that’s already been sitting for the past hour,” he grinned, causing you to furrow your brows and dilate your pupils at the bowl in his hands.

‘Where the fuck did that bowl come from?’ you thought to yourself but you didn’t want to think of it too much. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can log off and sleep. “If you guys saw my instagram story and my snapchat, you guys would’ve seen this coming,” Jeno grinned, shaking the bowl in his hand. “So this is what you were doing while I was writing my essay?” you asked with a chuckle, fidgeting with the plastic wrapper around the corners of the bowl.

Jeno hummed in response, giving you a cute eye smile as he lets you pull the plastic wrap away from the bowl. “Though it seems like the yeast didn’t rise,” you stated, poking a finger on the dough to see if it will bounce back. “This live stream is a very shitty version of a cooking mama game,” you mumbled under your breath which made Jeno laugh. “Babe, hush, you want to get this over with right?” he asked with a smug expression, putting his hand in the bowl to poke it as well.

“danishyi has donated $4! Says ‘Gordon Ramsay would not be proud right now’”

“What are you talking about? Gordon Ramsay is loving this. In fact, I showed him the dough earlier on twitter and he said it was way better than his! Right y/n?” Jeno nudged you with an amused voice, making you give him a deadpan expression, scrunching your nose in fake disgust as you slowly nodded to please your boyfriend. “Whatever you say, babe,” you agreed, going along with his joke.

“Alright, let’s get the dough out-”

“Wait, at least let me sprinkle more flour first, Jeno!” you halted him midway from scooping out the dough to quickly fetch the flour packet and sprinkle in some flour on the counter, inevitably making an even more larger mess in the kitchen. “Right, shit, sorry,” he giggled before putting the dough on the counter and using a knife to divide the dough in half.

“Damn, this is really oily.” you stated, starting to fold the dough over itself and ignoring the weird feeling that comes with touching the oily surface. “No shit, we added virgin oil, babe,” Jeno snickered with a shake of his head, following your actions with his own dough. “Did Jaemin help you with this?” you asked, looking up at him for a brief moment before starting to knead and massage your dough.

“Nope, he refused to help. He had some hope that I won’t burn down the kitchen if I do it myself,” he shook his head, flipping the dough upside down before pressing holes with his fingers. “That’s unfortunate, wait until he finds out you trashed the kitchen instead,” you chuckled, earning a soft glare from the boy beside you. “Hey, at least I didn’t burn it down like he hoped, give me a break.” He sighed exasperatedly.

“Wait so what are you going to do with the other dough that we made? You can’t possibly throw it out, right? That thing’s our new baby now,” you joked, pointing a finger at the bowl filled with the dough you made earlier. Jeno turned his head at the bowl before looking down at the camera with a boyish smile, “so you actually want to start a family with me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you before earning a soft push from you.

“You dumbass, be serious!” you groaned, suppressing a smile as you felt your heart skip a beat at the mention of starting a family with Jeno. “I can’t be Sirius, I’m Jeno,” Jeno said with a smug expression before letting out a squeal and running out of the camera view when he saw you lift your dough up in your palm threateningly as if you were going to throw it at him like a frisbee.

“I knew it was a mistake to watch Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban today,” you snorted, putting your dough down as Jeno walked back towards you with loud giggles. “I swear we’re never going to get this done,” you groaned, putting your elbows on the flour-covered counter, ignoring how the white powder clung onto the fabric of your shirt as you groaned, suppressing the need to bang your head against the wall.

“Look at the bright side, baby. At least you’re spending quality time with your precious boyfriend, right everyone?” his eyes lit up as he stared back at the camera, receiving enthusiastic responses of agreements from the chat box and the speech bot. “Bright side, huh?” you chuckled, standing up straight to stretch your back as you continued kneading your dough. “I think that’s enough kneading!” you ignored your pouting boyfriend to take a step back and admire your work, putting your hands on your hips proudly as if you just found the key to ending World Hunger.

“So do we combine our doughs together and shape the dough or what?” you asked, hearing Jeno hum in thought. “How about you knead our dough together and I’ll find the toppings we need for our pizza?” he suggested, causing you to frown. He gave you an innocent grin, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead before giving you his usual puppy eyes, the one you couldn’t say no to, which caused you to frown even deeper.

You groaned, sighing deeply and dramatically before nodding. “You’re lucky I love you too much,” you mumbled under your breath, pressing a small kiss on his cheek gingerly before coming up to the counter to mix both of your doughs together. “Hey, I made this dough all by myself, you don’t get to complain shit!” he laughed, running off to ask Jaemin where he usually puts the other ingredients. “We could’ve had a higher rate of success if we’d just stuck to making chocolate balls!” you yelled, using all of your remaining strength to knead the dough.

You didn’t know if Jeno ignored you or didn’t hear you because he didn’t respond back as he jogged to his roommate’s room. But you clicked your tongue and proceeded to flatten the dough out and make somewhat of a circular shape and folded over the dough for a thick crust, pinching your fingers to make the dough stick to itself as you spread it out. “Okay, so this looks more like a pizza now, right?” you asked, looking up at the camera.

“Now we’re just going to flat the dough out evenly, just like that!” you exclaimed, smacking the dough with your hand before looking at the laptop screen, watching as your audience continued to spill in jokes and words in caps lock in the chat. You purse your lips before continuing on shaping the pizza as Jeno then finally walked back into the kitchen and began opening the fridge and the cabins, pulling out some marinara sauce and some cheese.

“Seriously, that’s it?” you asked, raising your brows at the containers in his hands. “Yeah, basically. What? You want to add pineapples on it or something?” he raised his brow at you as the corners of his lips quirked up into a teasing smile. “Ew, no, stop,” you fake gagged at him, causing Jeno to giggle as he popped the lid of the marinara sauce open with his hands.

“Watch as Gordon Ramsay knocks on that door just to call us an idiot sandwich,” you snickered pointing at the door with a flour covered finger, making Jeno laugh, shaking his head at your nonsense. “Excuse you, if anything he’s going to praise us for making this delicious cuisine,” Jeno hesitated on the last part of his sentence when he took a look at your kitchen. “Are you sure this is cuisine? This radiates the same vibe as Hyuck eating ramen without cooking it,” you cringed internally.

“Floofybunbun has donated $3! Says ‘USE A ROLLING PIN, NOT YOUR HANDS!’”

Your heads shot up at this before exchanging confused glances. “A rolling pin?” you both asked in unison. “Do you even have a rolling pin here?” you asked as you and Jeno glanced around and started opening drawers and cupboards to search for one. “I don’t think so. Then, again, we’re broke college students I’m surprised we even have fucking mozzarella cheese in this place,” Jeno picked up the small container of shredded mozzarella before dropping it down carelessly on the counter.

“Okay, we gotta improvise then,” you huffed, looking around for any object that could be used to roll out your dough before you spotted Jaemin’s reusable starbucks cup. “This!” you exclaimed, rushing to take it in your hands and showing it to the camera. “I know, this isn’t a rolling pin, guys. But it could be if you just imagine it,” you grinned, ignoring Jeno’s gaping expression as he felt his skin run cold. “Do you have a death wish?” Jeno laughed nervously.

“Jaemin’s going to make us wish we were never born if anything happens to his favourite cup,” Jeno picked the cup from your hands and keeping it away from your reach by stretching his arm above his head when you attempted to snatch it back. “Come on, Jeno. Life is boring without a little danger,” you teased, stepping on your tippy toes to reach his arm but failing to no avail.

“Just use that pringles container,” Jeno cocked his head to the direction of his collection of snacks on the counter right below the cupboard out of the camera’s view. You glanced at the treat before raising your brow. “Wouldn’t the dough stick to the paper-ish surface?” you asked with a raised brow, making Jeno sigh in defeat. “Fuck, right,” he handed you back the cup, letting you roll the dough out evenly with the cup.

“Jaemin’s going to get so mad,” you laughed, humming a merry tune as you thinned out the dough, staining the cup with flour with every roll of your hands. “No shit,” Jeno huffed, leaning his head down in distress as he let out a loud chuckle.

“Itsokayman has donated $10! Says ‘the fact that you aren’t using a rolling pin physically hurts me”

“Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Everyone here watching the chat can relate to you, right now,” you and Jeno chuckled, stretching a hand to gesture at the camera. “That includes us, as well,” Jeno added with a tight-lipped smile, widening his eyes dramatically. “Wrap it up, Mike Wazoski,” you twisted your index finger in horizontal motions, laughing at your own joke.

“You did not just disrespect my man, Mike like that-”

“Anyways!” you cut him off abruptly, ignoring the pout he gave you afterwards. “The dough is falling apart but fuck it, it’s been thirty minutes since the live started and as much as I love talking to you guys I’m hungry,” you smiled, putting your hands on your hips once again with Jeno laughing behind you. “How straight forward,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his chin against your shoulder, leaning his head against yours and nuzzling against your hair.

“Honesty is the best policy, babe,” you pressed a butterfly kiss on his nose before getting back to forming the crust with your fingers, Jeno still clinging to your back like an adorable koala as he watched you with loving eyes.

“Tenshi-chanxx has donated $6! Says ‘stop ignoring us and listen! We’re trying to help you, the dough is literally falling apart. We won’t know what’s going to happen to your little play doh if you put it in the fucking oven!’”

You both looked up at his, eyes blowing wide before sharing the same flabbergasted expressions before turning to the camera and shaking your heads. “No,” you both said monotonously in unison before going back to your dough and laughing it out. “We’re just here to have some fun,” you shrugged at the camera with a casual expression. “Even if we end up going to our own funerals after this,” Jeno added with a harsh gulp.

“Okay, so now. We’re going to add this little baby,” you outstretched your arm to reach the marinara sauce, showing it to the camera and turning your head to look at your boyfriend with a small smile. “Can you open this please?” you asked in the most kindest tone you could muster, internally wincing at how cringey you sounded. He laughed at your pathetic attempts to use a sweet tone but nods nonetheless, releasing his tight grasp on your waist to open the jar of sauce with a small ‘pop’.

“Here you go,” he handed you back the jar before leaning his hands on the counter, not taking his eyes off of you. “Now, you’re gonna wanna put it like it’s mayo,” Jeno explained, pointing at the pizza dough as you grabbed two clean spoons from one of the drawers and handing it to him. “That’s a terrible reference,” you snickered, scooping a spoonful of the sauce and dumping it on the dough, tapping it against it to make sure all the sauce slips down.

“Shut up, baby, I’m doing an explanation here. Like those animal documentaries in Nat Geo Wild,” Jeno chuckles, scooping a spoonful of sauce himself and mirroring your actions, spreading it all over the pizza with a click of his tongue. “You got to make sure to spread it nice and evenly to get more flavor,” Jeno stuck his tongue out in the corners of his mouth in concentration as you two spread the sauce all around the dough.

You couldn’t hold in your laugh as he continued to do those monotone voices wildlife documentary narrators often use on TV. “I’m sorry but this looks like something out of an accident,” you laughed, pointing at the messy pizza on the counter. “It actually does. Oh shit, it actually fucking does,” Jeno puts a hand to his mouth to conceal his shock as he howled out laughing. “This was a whole mess,” you put your spoon back in the sink with a wheeze.

“Please, just cut the cameras already,” you clutched your stomach as it was starting to hurt from laughing too much. “The show must go on, y/n! Get a hold of yourself, my love!” Jeno said dramatically, grabbing some water to clear his throat as he continued to laugh with you. “We should be cast in a new ratatouille movie,” you snorted, wiping an invisible tear. “Or a new bee movie,” Jeno added with a soft chortle, handing you his own spoon.

“Disney, hit us up!” you gave the camera a dramatic finger gun, causing Jeno to double over laughing. “We’re open for sponsors, Disney! Emails and shit will be down in the description box below!” you gave them an awkward smile and jazz hands to add more flavor to your grand advertisement. “Yeah, don’t do that again. At this point, we’re never going to get sponsored by Disney nor Gordon Ramsey,” Jeno pressed a soft kiss to the corners of your lips, making you pout at his words.

“It’s a hard knock life,” you sang under your breath.

“For us,” he finished.

“Anyways! Why do we keep saying ‘anyways’?” you both couldn’t stop laughing the more you see your failure of a pizza. “You all know chefs make mistakes from time to time right? So we- more specifically, I came up with a back up plan. A plan B basically,” he marched unceremoniously to the fridge, opening the freezer and poking his head in. “Jeno don’t tell me you have another secret batch in there. We don’t have enough friends to poison if these doughs don’t turn out good,” you teased, turning on the tap and running your hands under the water to wash off any dough left in between your fingers.

Jeno then pulled out his supposed ‘plan B’ which turns out to be a box of frozen pizza he bought from the supermarket the other day. “Classic pepperoni pizza,” you read the label aloud with a soft giggle. “I don’t think that’s going to compare to the exquisite meal we made here, Jeno,” you gestured to the sloppy deformed pizza on your counter, which made Jeno snort. “Facts,” he agreed with a soft chuckle.

“I knew this pizza would come in handy. Now let’s compare this to our own pizza here,” he grinned, opening the pizza box and pulling the plastic wrapped food out of the box, setting it down beside your own pizza. The frozen pizza in comparison was making your homemade pizza feel like a shrivelled old 6000 year old snail and you didn’t know whether to cry or laugh about it.

“Out of context, if we ever decide to join a Master Chef competition. No guaranteed, with this lovely pizza of ours? We’re going to be the next Gordon Ramsay and rule the goddamn world,” you almost choked on your own spit as you laughed, Jeno shaking his head at you with a wide smile on his face. “I live for your sarcasm,” he reached over to pinch your cheeks gingerly, cooing softly at you.

“Come on, compared to our pizza. You can tell which one is better,” you said in a proud tone as if you weren’t on the brink of crying out of embarrassment now. Watching Jeno rip the plastic packaging open and pulling out the pizza, you couldn’t help but make more sardonic jokes about your own creation, amusing your audience as those who donated expressed their thoughts over the speech bot.

“Since we don’t have pepperoni in this house, we’re just going to borrow some from this pizza right here,” Jeno pulls out some chopsticks from God knows where and started picking up a few pepperonis from the frozen pizza, placing them right on top of the marinara sauce spread sloppily on your pizza dough. “Jeno I- you know you could just use other alternatives than just straight up stealing pepperonis from the frozen one?” you said incredulously with a slight laugh

“We’re professionals, y/n. If we don’t have a certain ingredient, we improvise,” he grinned cheekily, making you roll your eyes. “You could add the leftover sausages from the fridge and yet you decide to steal the pepperoni, real professional, Jeno,” you nodded with crossed arms as Jeno neatly arranged the pepperonis on your pizza. “Also why are you making the pepperonis stand up on the dough?” you asked, pointing at the vertical pepperonis piling up on the dough.

“Originality and creativity,” he stated without hesitation.

“Just so you know, neither of these pizzas are safe for human consumption,” you stated, pointing to the two pizzas on the counter. “Oh yeah, definitely. That’s the exact reason why I chose this for today’s Christmas cooking livestream,” Jeno nodded in agreement, giving you a small thumbs up before giving a small clap. “But honestly, what is safe for human consumption in this world?” he asked with a questioning look, waving his hand to the side as he furrowed his brows and gave the camera a ‘duh’ look.

“Cheese!” you exclaimed eagerly out of random, putting your hands on the counter with an excited smile. Jeno furrowed his brows at you. “Aren’t some people lactose intolerant?” he asked, receiving a deadpan expression from you . “No, you idiot. I meant, it’s time to pour the cheese!” you snatched the small container filled with shredded mozzarella behind him and waved it in front of the camera.

“Right. I forgot, I knew the pizza was missing something,” Jeno puts his palm against his forehead, shaking his head in disappointment as he lets out small chuckles. “How could you forget the star of the show?” your eyes grew wide at him, putting your hand on your chest as you looked at him in an almost offended expression. “Honestly, Jeno, I expected better from you,” you shook your head, making small ‘tsk’ sounds under your breath.

Jeno rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead gently before giving you a sweet smile. “Whatever, just pour as much cheese as you want so we can quickly pop these in the oven,” Jeno giggled, watching you rub the slightly sore spot on your forehead as you gave him a threatening glare. “I hate you,” you opened the container with a huff, putting your fingers in before generously sprinkling the cheese all over the pizza.

“I love how the chat box exploded with the word ‘cheese’,” you snickered, pointing at the laptop screen. “Jaemin and his lactose intolerant ass is probably crying right now,” Jeno added, nodding in amusement as he dipped his hand in the container to sprinkle more cheese himself. “That is, if he’s watching,” you chuckled, looking up at your boyfriend’s handsome face. “I pray to God he isn’t,” he added with a nervous laugh.

The oven then made a loud ‘beep’ to signal that it’s already preheated, causing you and Jeno to cheer loudly as your audience prays for the safety of Jeno and Jaemin’s apartment. “Oh, yay! Finally!” you cheered, walking over to open one of the cabins to pull out a long tray for your pizzas. “Okay, so we finally get to the interesting part of this whole live stream!” you exclaimed, placing the tray carefully in front of the pizza. “Not really,” you added quickly.

“Anyways, which pizza shall we try first?” you asked, pointing at the two uncooked pizzas on the kitchen counter. “Our baby or the store bought one?” you asked, pointing at the two pizzas to emphasize on your words. “Why not both?” Jeno asked with a raised brow, handing you a glass of water out of nowhere. “Drink water, kids !” he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up at the camera as you casually took the glass from him and gulped it down without hesitation.

“Alright then, both!” you agreed with a nod, placing your small pizza dough carefully on the tray, watching as bits of shredded cheese fell off of the corners of your pizza. “Fuck, the floor is literallt a mess right now,” Jeno chuckled, taking a step back to examine the state of your floor, internally noting to himself how much of struggle it’ll be to clean all this up later. “Just like our pizza right here,” you smiled awkwardly at the camera as you struck a pose with your sloppy pizza on the tray.

“Brookestoresle has donated $7! Says ‘SPRAY THE DAMN PAN!’”

“Spray the pan?” you repeated in a questioning tone, a perplexed expression glossing over both of your features. “What do you mean ‘spray the pan’? What is it for?” Jeno asked, looking through the comments to see if anyone could elaborate on that. “Do we spray it with Windex or something? What are we supposed to spray it with, exactly?” you said, half jokingly. “Definitely,” Jeno nodded, laughing at your suggestion.

“rouroul3l3 has donated $5! Says ‘put a fucking cooking spray. Put a fucking cooking spray before you pop it in the oven, idiots’”

“Oh. Right!” you both exclaimed in unison, running around the kitchen to find some cooking spray. “Do you even have cooking spray?” you exclaimed, shutting the drawers close as you came back to the camera’s line of vision. “Uh,” Jeno paused for a second before walking out of the camera view and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Jaemin! Do we have cooking spray?” he ran over to his roommate’s room once again.

In the distance you can hear Jaemin’s door being slammed open by either the man himself or your boyfriend. “What do you want now, Jeno?!” he exclaimed loudly, loud enough for you and the microphone to pick up, that is. “Do we have cooking spray?” Jeno’s voice was barely audible to the viewers, but luckily, you adjusted the mic so they could hear the conversation they were having. “No, we don’t. Could you two keep it down? I’m almost done editing my video,” Jaemin groaned.

“Okay, okay. But what should we use since we don’t have cooking spray?” Jeno asked once again, pushing on the poor boy’s buttons as you stared at the camera with an amused expression, trying hard not to burst out laughing. “I don’t know, just melt some butter or something,” was the last thing you heard before Jaemin’s door slammed shut, causing you to finally burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeno chuckled, jogging over to pinch your cheeks as you continued to laugh. “So we don’t have cooking spray?” you teased before Jeno gave you an incredulous scoff. “I know for a fact you heard Jaemin yelling at the top of his lungs so don’t you even dare ask that question!” Jeno giggled, waving his index finger at you disappointingly. “I’m just kidding,” you smacked his hand away before grabbing some butter from the fridge.

“Let’s just put this in the oven for it to melt for about five-ish minutes,” Jeno said, carefully pulling the dough from the tray for you to spread butter all over it. He placed the dough back on the counter before lifting the tray and putting it in the oven, clasping his hands together loudly before turning to look at the laptop screen in front of the two of you. “Now we wait!” he exclaimed with a bright, tight-lipped smile.

“Wafflesisyou has donated $9! Says ‘You could’ve used olive oil, you know’”

You and Jeno froze in place as if your brains short circuited for a brief second before laughing it off casually. “You guys could’ve told us that earlier, it’s too late now. The pan is in the oven, there’s no turning back now,” you said in a sinister voice, laughing nervously as you moved over to peek at the tray through the door of the oven. “Like I said before, originality and creativity. We’re coming up with new scientific methods to cook our pizza,” Jeno added with an innocent smile.

You then grabbed a wet rag and opened the oven, pulling the tray out to show the camera that the butter has melted completely. “Okay, so now that that’s done. How do we fit two pizzas in one tray? That’s literally the only tray we have in this house,” Jeno pointed at the pizza then pointed at the tray as you carefully placed the hot tray on the counter near the pizza. “Uh, the store-bought one is a little too big,” you laughed, lifting the cold circular pizza to make a point before putting it back down on the counter,

“Does anyone have any advice? We really need your help on this one, chat,” Jeno giggled, dusting off the flour on his clothes. “‘Cut it’,” you read aloud, squinting your eyes at the chat box before humming. “Don’t you have a pizza cutter somewhere?” you asked causing Jeno to start looking around the drawers once again. “We really should have prepared this earlier. It’s been an hour and a half since the live stream started and we spent most of the live being idiots,” Jeno mumbled aloud, causing you to laugh. “Summary of our relationship, really,” you shrugged at the camera.

Pulling out a clean pizza cutter, Jeno raised it up like an adorable child and hopped on over beside you with a small ‘found it!’ coming from his lips. “You’re so adorable,” you gushed, you couldn’t help but reach over and pinch your boyfriend’s cheeks gingerly, causing him to swat your hand away with a roll of his eyes. He then cut the pizza in half before placing it at the edge of the tray, putting your smaller one right beside it.

“There! It fits!” he exclaimed. “Finally!” you groaned, grabbing the wet rag you previously tossed away when no one was looking and lifted the tray up. “Now to bake in the microwave! Gordon Ramsay, we’ll make you proud!” Jeno beamed, watching as you pushed the tray into the oven and pressed some buttons to turn it on and start the timer.

“You know that cooking show where people who are like- the worst cooks known to mankind are featured on? I believe there was a girl who cut an avocado along with the seed with a knife as if it was butter? I really do believe we have the potential of being the winners of that show,” you put your hands up in exhaustion, making Jeno wheeze and clutch his stomach in pain as he continued to laugh hard.

“The Worst Cooks In America was by far the most interesting cooking video in my youtube recommended feed,” Jeno wiped his tears away as he continued to laugh at your jokes. “Stop or else I’m kicking you out of the live stream,” Jeno threatened weakly, composing himself for a brief moment before meeting your eyes which were glinting in amusement. “Oh, really?” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him before snorting at your own cringey actions.

“I’m never doing that again,” you wheezed out. “Please do,” Jeno nodded in agreement as the viewers continued to watch you read comments and joke around while waiting for the pizzas to finally cook. At some point you and Jeno started sword fighting with cooking utensils on camera with your viewers commenting either how you were going to break your cooking utensils or supporting you individually in said battle.

But nonetheless it was still a funny moment considering Jeno whipped out a cutting board from the counter behind him to use as a shield. You ended up losing and Jeno insisted that you kissed the winner as the prize. But unfortunately for him, you were too much of a troll to give your viewers the satisfaction of seeing the two of you kiss on camera so you tugged him by the collar of his shirt and took a few steps back to give him his prize.

“Pizza’s ready!” you exclaimed, pulling away from Jeno who seemed to be in a daze after kissing you for a solid fifteen seconds as you ran up to the oven. Grabbing some gloves from the cupboard above you, you slipped them on and pulled out the pizzas with a proud smile etched across your face. “Voila!” you did a chef’s kiss as you plopped the tray down on the counter, adjusting the camera so your viewers could have a magnificent view of the cheese bubbling on the pizza.

“Bon appétit!" Jeno said, wiping the remnants of your lip gloss from his mouth as he walked back into the camera’s view. Glitter spread all around his mouth as he gave a boyish smile at the camera, waving at it as if nothing had happened behind the camera. “Okay, but- damn! It smells so good in here,” Jeno gasped as you sliced a piece or two of your pizza and placed it on a clean white plate with a confirmed nod. “Agreed. I actually take what I said back, this actually doesn’t look too bad,” you admitted with a sigh, handing him a plate before raising yours at the camera.

“This looks exquisite if I do say so myself,” Jeno picked up the pizza with his fingers, examining it. “Actually, it’s kind of burnt a little on the bottom but I loved how it turned out!” Jeno’s eyes twinkled with joy once he realised you two didn’t fuck up too badly in this cooking live stream. “I still would have preferred it if we made chocolate balls instead,” you muttered under your breath, receiving a glare from Jeno.

“Maybe next year,” he joked before taking a bite out of the pizza, humming in delight.

“Is it actually good? “ you asked him.

“A little undercooked, but it’s actually really good! ”

You gaped, leaning your head to the side in wonder as you watched him nod eagerly. You opened your mouth at him, gesturing for him to feed you as you let out a soft ‘ah!’. Jeno smiled, leaning his hands forward to put the plate under your chin and the pizza into your mouth, letting you take a big bite out of it. You chewed for a small moment, feeling Jeno’s eyes on you curiously.

You hummed as your eyes lit up in surprise, nodding as you gave him a thumbs up. “It’s rather burnt, but it’s not that bad! It has my seal of semi-approval!” you gave the camera a small thumbs up before, picking up your own plate which was supposed to be the store bought pizza. “Now let’s try this one!” you turned your plate around to let the viewers drool over your premade pizza before taking a bite out of it, not forgetting to feed Jeno as well.

You and Jeno hummed in unison, nodding as you both internally agreed that this pizza was way better than yours.

“The store bought one tasted like trash,” you said to the camera. “Ours was definitely better,” Jeno nodded, going along with your joke as you both continued to eat the store bought pizza together in front of the camera. “Ladies and Gentlemen, our recipe is a ten out of ten! We did it!” you both clapped graciously to your own success, cheering as if you just won the lottery and ignoring how Jaemin’s muffled shouts for you two to shut up fell deaf in your ears.

You coughed, grabbing a glass of water as Jeno continued to eat the pizza. He then decided it was your cue to end the live stream together. “Okay guys, it’s time for us to head out,” he started, dusting the crumbs off of his hands as he placed the half eaten pizza back on the plate. “Thank you so much for watching this stream! This video will be reuploaded to youtube for those who missed out on this chaotic adventure!” you announced with a clap, giving your boyfriend a glass of water for him to drink.

“Thank you for donating and thank you for guiding us in our cooking journey. And most of all, thank you for being here and have a good night!” Jeno finished as you both waved at the camera enthusiastically with wide smiles before you clicked on your mouse to end the live stream with a high pitched “see you guys later!”

Jenogames has uploaded a new video!

Itshaechanyoursun has commented : Nobody:

Literally nobody:

Jeno: origintality and creativity.

Itshaechanyoursun has replied: *originality

Jenogames has replied: if you’re gonna clown me at least spell correctly

y/nisfunny: this was a terrible idea.

y/nisfunny: let’s make chocolate balls next!

Jenogames has replied: Babe, ily BUT NO

Nanaplays has commented: JENO YOU DID NOT JUST LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND USE MY NEW STARBUCKS CUP

DancingPWARK has commented: As a boy who only cooks instant ramen for a living, this video made me feel like I could be the next Gordon Ramsey

Jenogames has replied: AIGHT BET

Conspiracieswithyaboi has commented: the donations you made in this stream should be used for you guys to take culinary classes, this whole video was painful to watch

Leleflex has commented: F to the chocolate balls y/n never got to make

y/nisfunny has replied: THIS.

Markleevlogs has commented: Burn this.

TAGLIST: @moonbeamsung @hansolstea

a/n: LMAO WHAT IS THIS FIC

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #nct x reader #nct jeno x reader #nct dream jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno fluff #nct u x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream scenaios #lee jeno scenarois #jeno scenarios #nct scenarios

321 notes · View notes

anxiousstark · 5 years ago

Text

S2 10 | Fury

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2848

Warnings: Mentions of guns, degrading names, injuries, blood, murder, swearing (always).

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"So this kid's the real killer?" Noah Stilisnki asked, his eyes moving from Scott and Stiles to me. We were in Stiles's bedroom, showing him a picture of Matt. We needed to end this, but Noah didn't seem convinced by what we were trying to explain.

"Yeah." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on." He got up from his chair, standing in front of the man who had raised him. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn't in Harris's class."

"All right, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

"No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything." Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up.

"Scott, do you believe this?"

"It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it's Matt." His calming voice reassured the Sheriff, but still, he seemed to have doubts. He glanced at me, and I nodded my head.

"Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, that they'd arrest him."

"All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive." We looked at each other, sighing in relief. "I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Isn't it obvious?" We still didn't know why Matt was doing this, so no. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years." He shouted before his voice lowered. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?" Before Noah could answer back his son, I hit Stiles's arm. "Ouch, what was that for?" He rubbed the placed where I had hit him while glancing at me.

"I'm in the swim team, asshole." I pouted, but then I quickly connected another dot. "That's why he attacked me." Both boys looked at me confused, still trying to understand. "That could be another reason, guys. I'm in the swim team." However, there were other people in the swim team, so why didn't he attack them?

"Attacked you?" Mr. Stilisnki directed at me. He seemed mad. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

We smiled, sighing in content. "We need to look at the evidence," Scott's voice sounded confident.

"Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work."

"Trust me. They'll let you in."

Sheriff Stilisnki was perplexed due to his son's words. "Trust you?" His fingers pointed at him.

"T-trust Scott?" Sheriff still wasn't convinced. "Trust...Y/N?"

"Y/N I trust." I grinned, feeling better than the other two boys, which made both of them push me a little. Tsk, is that jealousy I smell?

"It's 2:00 in the morning." The Deputy behind the counter gave us a judging look. Sheriff Stilisnki took the three of us to the station in hopes of finding more information, which seemed complicated as he no longer worked there.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important."

"We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?" The hazel-eyed boy whispered to Scott and me. "Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?" We nodded. The pregnant girl, Jessica.

"Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could've seen him."

The Deputy made a gesture with her head. "Thank you. Boys. Y/N." We entered the office, watching the recording from the cameras of the hospital. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed."

"All right, just keep going. Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

"Oh, hold on, stop! Did you see that? Scroll back." I hurriedly pointed to the camera.

"That's him! That's Matt!"

"All I see is the back of someone's head." Mr. Stilisnki glanced at us over his shoulder.

"Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird." A disgusting expression decorated his face. But it couldn't surpass Noah's face, realizing how weird his son was. "All right, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?"

"Millions, literally."

"Okay, can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras."

"Right there! Stop, stop! See, there he is again."

"You mean there's the back of his head again."

"Okay, but look. He's talking to someone."

"He's talking to my mom." He took his phone out, calling Melissa who was working. After sending her a picture of Matt, she affirmed recognizing him. She had stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall.

Noah rapidly grabbed some files. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital, and the rave." Stiles added.

"Actually, four. A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?"

"A couple hours before you got there."

"All right, dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?"

"Four's enough for a warrant." We sighed in relief. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Y/N, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

"On it!" I quickly hurried. When I arrived at the front desk, there was nobody. "Hello?" I glance down. The Deputy was lying on the floor, wide eyes, blood covering all of her chest. Then, I noticed that her gun was missing. I heard a click, turning around. Matt was there, the gun pointing to the space between my eyes.

He turned my body around, now pointing the gun to the back of my head. "Walk." We both started walking towards Noah's office.

Stiles was the first one to notice me, his eyes shaking. He was going to take a step forward when his father stopped him. "Matt?" Noah showed him his empty unarmed hands. "It's Matt, right? Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"You know, it's funny you say that because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are." The barrel of the gun was pressed tighter against my head as he talked.

"I know you don't wanna hurt people."

"Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You three weren't on my list," The gun he was holding hit the back of my scalp, making me hiss. "She was, Y/N McCall. If it wasn't for her, everything would have gone perfectly. But she HAD to be there, at the video store, fucking everything up." He sighed, pushing me forward. Stiles grabbed me, checking my face quickly, touching the back of my head to make sure that I didn't have any wound. "But I could be persuaded. And one way is to try dialling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing. T-that could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone. Now!"

Matt made Stiles handcuff his father, then he took us with him. On the corridor, three officers were on the ground, lifeless. "What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?" Scott asked.

"No, that's what Jackson's for. I just think about killing them, and he does it." He smirked.

Now, we were destroying all the files that conducted to him being a murderer. "Deleted. And we're done. All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first, whatever that means, I think we're good here, right? So I'll just get my dad, and we'll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."

We saw a light, followed by the sound of a car. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall."

"Matt, don't do this. When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything. Please, Matt."

"If you don't move now. I'm gonna kill Stiles first, and then your mom. And then," He smirked. "I'm going to kill her. Because thanks to Y/N the Kanima isn't as strong as it could be. That night, if Jackson would have been the only one getting scratched, all of this wouldn't have happened. You guys would probably be dead." His rage was directed towards me. "But this bitch had to go inside the video store, and fuck everything up."

"And I will fuck everything up again if you touch anyo-" Stiles gripped my arm, begging me to calm down.

To our surprise, it wasn't Melissa. It was Derek. But he was paralyzed as soon as he came inside, falling to the floor, and letting us see Jackson behind him. "This is the one controlling him? This kid?" I tried not to chuckle.

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh, yeah, that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a fucking Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman," I whispered his name, trying to let him know that it wasn't the time to be sarcastic. "But, uh, it's more of, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal."

Matt didn't like Stiles's comment. Jackson scratched his neck, paralyzing him. His body fell on top of Derek. "You bitch."

"Get him off of me."

"Oh, I don't know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kinda suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am."

Again, we heard a car. This time, it was Melissa. Scott went out with Matt, the next thing we knew, we heard a gunshot. I stayed on the floor, next to Stiles and Derek. Jackson's eyes fixed on me, smirking. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to end all of this.

A couple of minutes later, Matt came back to the room. My eyes focused on Scott, seeing the blood on his shirt. I walked up to him, examining his face for any type of signal that would let me know that he was healing. He just side-hugged me, keeping me away from his injury. "Is Melissa okay?" I whispered.

He nodded, glaring at Matt. "The evidence is gone. Why don't you just go?"

"Y-you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I-I want the book." We both were confused. Matt groaned, getting madder. "The bestiary. Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's. What do you want it for, anyway?"

"I need answers." He used the back of his mouth to clean the visible sweat around his mouth.

"Answers to what?"

"To this." He lifted his shirt. His right side was the same colour as the Kanima, scales all over it, and it seemed to palpitate. It looked like that thing had its own life. "I'm tired of this," He grabbed Scott's shirt roughly. "Come with me. Jackson, keep an eye on those two," His glare went to me. "And her."

I sat down again, next to both boys while Jackson kept guard of the room so nobody would go inside or outside.

"Hey. You know what's happening to Matt?" Stiles whispered.

"I know the book's not gonna help him. You can't just break the rules, not like this."

"What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Jackson.

"Universe balances things out. Always does." He panted. "He is using Jackson to kill people, and killing people himself." I stared at Derek, waiting for him to continue. "Balance."

"Wait," Stiles intervened. "So he becomes the Kanima? Derek nodded. We needed to stop him. We needed to tell him. I glance around the room, seeing my backpack on the floor. "Oh no," I heard Stilinski muttering. "What are you thinking of, McCall?" He tried to move his head to glance at me. "Don't do anything stupid, please. You are the one who told me that when I confronted Peter Hale."

"Did you listen to me, Stiles?" I asked in a hushed voice, crawling to my bag, rummaging through it until I grabbed the object that I was searching for. Pepper spray.

He groaned. "No, I didn't." I slowly got up from the ground, without making any sound. "You aren't going to listen, right?"

"Hey, Jackson," His head snapped to me, eyes shining. "Beautiful eyes." I rapidly used pepper spray. Jackson groaned, kneeling on the ground, and aggressively rubbing his eyes. I threw the spray back to the boys. "He will come to get me. I need to help Scott. Use the spray if you need it!" And even though Derek Hale told me not to do anything absurd, I continued running.

However, the power in the entire station turned off. "Fuck," I muttered. The sound of guns being shot scared the shit out of me, but I had to find Scott. I crawled on the floor, hands covering my head as the windows were being broken by the bullets. Then, when the shots seemed to stop, I got up and ran.

"Shit," My heart almost came out of my chest when I saw Allison. I felt fear because something bad could happen to her, then I felt relieved because we were worried about her as we hadn't seen her at the end of the party. And again, I felt terrified when I saw her face. A numb expression decorating her features while she had a hard grip on her crossbow. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Derek? She avoided my question, answering with her own. "Where's Derek?!" Her eyes were teary.

"An answer for an answer," I replied. "What the heck are you doing here? You need to get the hell out of here." I looked around, deciding to whisper. "Allison, this is dangerous."

"I'm going to kill Derek Hale because he killed my mom." She spat. "And I will kill anyone who gets on my way."

"Bitch," I mumbled. "Derek Hale saved our asses a million times. Yeah, he probably isn't the best at communication, but when I say our asses, I also mean yours." I scowled. "Your mom," I smirked. "A huge bitch she is. Well, she was." Allison threw a punch at me, but I surprisingly dodged it, something you would only expect in films or books. "She deserves all that she got. She went to the hospital to get information from Mellisa." She glanced at the ground while I continued. "She deserved all that she got. Do you know why? Because she tried to kill Scott." She was in denial, but she knew because her family was deranged. "She tried to kill your boyfriend, Allison. She tried to kill my brother." I firmly stated.

"Shut up!" Next thing I knew, there was an arrow piercing my stomach. The arrow was exactly in the middle. I stared at it, and the blood coming out, although no words were coming out of my mouth as I stared at her. "Oh my, I-I didn't mean to-" I fell to the ground, thankfully on my back so the arrow wouldn't get more stuck in my abdomen. Allison was also interrupted when the Kanima appeared, paralyzing her. Then, it was Matt's turn to make an appearance.

"You should've given me a chance. Because remember how I said I'm not the kind of guy who would say something like: 'well if I can't have her, no one can.' It's not totally true because, Allison, if I can't have you, no one can!" He screamed. "Thank you for finding this slut," He kneeled next to me, brushing my hair. "Pepper spray, uh?"

"If I could," I gasped for air. "I would fucking k-kill you right now."

"Yeah," He laughed hysterically. "But I think you are dying first. Should we show momma McCall, Scott, and Stiles how stunningly beautiful you look as the blood leaves your body?" This dude was sick, utterly sick. "Yeah, let's show them." The hand that was caressing my hair clutched it forcefully, dragging me by my hair through all the rooms in the station. I lost consciousness.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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wouldduskwood · 4 years ago

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Jake's POV Descendants of Despair Part 59

Though having a purpose helped to distract me from what could have been, I still could not shake the mixture of feelings. The fact that she loved me so much she would commit herself to me, it was something I never really imagined would happen. Especially not with someone that genuinely loved and trusted me. I didn't deserve her. I wanted to be strong enough to leave her, before I hurt her. I was making myself miserable with it. I forced myself to focus on what we were doing, temporarily forget what had happened, but it was tough.

Finally, I was drawn into the nuances of human behaviour. As I read, the lies, the deceit..it was no wonder she had never trusted anyone. They all had a hidden agenda. Usually it was for an entirely selfish reason. Where MC and I had both been selfish in ways, they had usually been either for survival or to protect each other. The selfishness I saw on these websites were all purely to protect the self from their own lies and betrayals. So many people cheating on the people they supposedly loved. When I considered my relationship with MC, there was no way in hell I could see myself ever wanting anyone else. I knew she felt the same. It was inconceivable to me that this many people thought it was okay to have sex with whomever they pleased.

“Jake...uh...I’m glad you’re not a real boy...if being a real boy means this shit.” She sighed as she indicated the screen. “I’m not sure we are going to be able to pull this off too well. I won’t be able to see her reaction to things so won’t be able to know whether she is lying or shielding things and you won’t be able to tell me what your thoughts are. I think our best bet is going to have to be to make the meeting as short and to the point as possible.”

I nodded, both perplexed and horrified at what I was reading on the screen. “I guess this is one reason I am glad I went into hacking...the other people that are hacking as well all know that we are hiding stuff and very likely lying to each other. It’s like an unwritten social code. But this…” I groaned, indicating the screen with disgust. “We may have to do this soon so I don’t have too much time to freak out.”

“How quickly can you get an earpiece sorted?” She asked. My mind quickly drifted to the pieces I already had. I was relatively sure I had everything I'd need. “That won’t take long, I think I can piece one together myself. Can you sort out a meeting. Uh...I’m not sure where to take her that doesn’t look like a murder house.” I replied hesitantly and was somewhat taken aback when she giggled in response. “It’s nothing, just you didn’t mind giving Dan the illusion of a murder house, taking him to the abandoned warehouse,” She grinned. “Dan needed a good dose of fear,” I snickered. It was unfortunate that the surroundings hadn't seemed to get through to him. I'd have to try harder next time. “Can you sort a place? I trust you to find somewhere that won’t terrify her or out me.” I suggested.

I began to work, examining the small pieces I had as well as the tech that I could connect remotely to it. As I worked, I glanced at her every now and then. “Wait...I’m thinking about this all wrong,” She stated, breaking the silence and causing me to pause in my work. “I was thinking of a building that would give the illusion of comfort for Lilly and security for us, but I realised that is just stupid. What about the lake in Duskwood. We take an offshoot away from the main area and wait there. There won’t be cameras and it’s highly unlikely anyone will be around.”

“Hm, as long as we stay away from the forest, although if we go near it we could possibly run into the man without the face and then we may get a chance to end it once and for all.” I grinned, then forced myself to stop. Knowing her, somehow the man without a face would track her down and I'd be stuck with Lilly somewhere else. There was no way I should have been joking about it. “You’re right, that’s probably the most comforting place for Lilly. If we leave quickly we won’t be too likely to strike anyone else. Can you set it up?”

She grabbed her phone and as she looked for Lilly's contact, I quickly pulled up the mirror of her phone and Lilly's on my screen.

Lilly

MC: Hey Lilly

Lilly is online

Lilly: OMG where have you been?

MC: Something happened so I had to leave where I was staying, but I’m good now.

Lilly: Really? Is there something that you aren’t telling me MC?

I wondered briefly how she would tackle this. Would she tell Lilly the truth? Would she talk about me? Would she mention her love? Logically I knew that it was much safer if she was vague, but still I couldn't help but hope.

MC: Yes actually, Jake has asked me to set up a meeting with you. He was a bit nervous reaching out himself in case you refused.

Lilly: OMG really, he wants to meet up? Oh I’m so nervous!

MC: Listen, it won’t be a long meeting, you know how his life is. Just don’t get too excited for something he may not be able to provide for you.

Lilly: OH yes I do understand but still...I’m going to meet my big brother!

MC: I will contact you soon with timing, but it will be at Duskwood lake. Can you find a private area somewhere around there and then give Jake the coordinates or let him track you?

Lilly: Yes I think I know a place. I’ll do that. I’ll be waiting by my phone!

As I watched Lilly's phone, I saw she had disconnected too. That gave me a bit more faith in my half sister. She hadn't told anyone of the impending meeting. I hoped that it would stay that way. I closed MC's screen and kept Lilly's open, just incase.

She had disconnected quickly, cutting Lilly off before she could ask anything more that might elicit too much information being shared. I turned to her with a smile. “Nicely done.” I partially expected an angry reprimand at breaching her privacy, but to my pleasure she just continued speaking. She really did want me to know her as much as I wanted her to know myself. “Sorry I lied a bit. I thought it was best that she didn’t know too much.” She murmured. I smiled. “It’s fine, you did well. I’ll have this up and running soon. Do you want to sort out some food? It’s been a while since we last ate and we should still have something in the car.” She nodded thankfully, which pleased me too. I was getting good at taking care of her...and myself in the process. Maybe I was the nurturing type.

I busied myself with the fine art of piecing together an ear piece out of bits and pieces I had pulled out from a small pouch I kept amongst my tech gear. It was a tedious process but it felt good to be doing something worthwhile. I was interrupted in my work when she carried a meal over to me. She had put a fair bit of effort into her presentation, was I was thankful for. It made the unappealing array of food somewhat more palatable. We ate in silence then I began working again while she watched. When I glanced at her, she was looking at me.

“Okay, I’m going to test this. So, I have managed to hook up a rudimentary microphone as well as the ear piece. It will transmit okay, but it may be staticky so you will need to be aware it may be hard to hear things. I should be able to hear you fine from this part here.” I said, indicating various parts of the creation. Her expression confused me. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it will work…” I mumbled, suddenly self conscious.

“You’re incredible,” She murmured, instantly wiping away my self conscious feeling and replacing it with joy. I became oddly proud of the small part I played in this. “Let’s give it a go then I’ll message Lilly. We will try and do this tomorrow!” I smiled nervously then gave her a quick kiss, attempting to refrain from pouncing on her then and there. Together we tested my equipment. I walked various distances away to test the range. It seemed pretty reliable, and it was probably the best we had anyway. “Contact Lilly. Set it up,” I mumbled into the microphone, nervous about the direction my future would take now that my half sister would be involved. Maybe she could talk some sense into me. Help me save MC from pain...

Part 60

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jake pov #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc

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twiluvr · 5 years ago

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BABY STEPS — JASPER HALE

austistic!oc/jasper hale | masterlist

CHAPTER ONE. concrete to grass

Grace lays horizontally on her sister's bed. Her legs swing in the air as she reads through her calculus textbook, silent in her movement but loud in her occasional self piteous sighs.

Bella sits at her desk across the room, scrolling through a Forks tourism site. The yellow desk lamp on her left provides ample light for the entire room. She's used to Grace's melodramatic attitude when it comes to math, so doesn't so much as pay her a glance when she sighs for the fifth time in an hour.

At her sister's complete lack of response, Grace huffs and drops the paperback onto the bed. Then, she turns onto her stomach and frowns at the site displayed on Bella's screen. "Why are you looking at hiking trails? We don't hike."

"I'm looking at Forks' visitor website."

Grace makes a face. "Why?"

Bella turns to her. "Just seeing if anything's changed since I last spent a summer there."

"And?"

"It hasn't."

"Yeah," Grace grins. "That's why I like Forks. Everything stays the same."

Bella blinks. Grace thinks she looks horrified. "Everything?"

Grace shrugs. "Well, not everything. Dad emailed me a month ago to let me know he was getting a new microwave. This one is grey. His old one was black."

Bella frowns. "Oh."

She doesn't look very comforted.

"They also opened that public swimming pool last summer." Grace points out. "It's gross, but it's there."

"Yeah," Bella closes her laptop and stands up. She pushes the chair beneath the desk before walking over to the bed. She nudges Grace over and lays down next to her. Their heads knock together gently.

"You don't have to do this," Grace says quietly. "I'd be okay moving to Forks on my own. I would."

"I know." Bella agrees. "But I'm coming with you anyway."

"I just don't want you to do this and then resent me for it later." Grace shifts to rest her head on Bella's chest. She presses her ear into her shirt and doesn't settle until she can hear her sister's heartbeat.

"Don't be stupid. I could never resent you." Bella denies. "Besides, this is my decision. I want to move to Forks. It'll be nice to spend some time with dad."

Grace hums, unconvinced. Bella's sudden change of heart is unsettling. Nobody goes from loathing a place to wanting to move there overnight.

A realisation abruptly strikes her. "Mom asked you to go with me, didn't she?"

Bella doesn't say anything.

Grace's throat tightens. "Oh."

Bella stays quiet, trying to find the right words. "Don't be mad at her. She just- she doesn't want you to be on your own."

"I won't be on my own." Grace tightens her jaw. She's clearly unsettled now. Her skin crawls. "I'll be with dad."

"And me," Bella says. She brushes a grounding hand through Grace's hair. "I'm going with you, Gracie. I've already made up my mind."

"You don't like Forks."

The sentence echoes like a broken cassette in Grace's head. Over and over.

"No, I don't" Bella admits. "But you're my sister and I'm not willing to put a two thousand mile distance between us."

"You don't like Forks."

"But I love you," Bella says easily. She keeps running a hand through Grace's hair, applying a grounding pressure on her scalp.

"You don't like Forks."

Bella hums. Softly. Kindly. "I know."

"You don't like Forks."

"I know."

Grace clenches her wet eyes shut and focuses intently on Bella's heartbeat and the hand in her hair. "You don't like Forks."

It's a mantra now. It consumes her until she can hear nothing else. Even as exhaustion sweeps her away from consciousness like a wave on a rocky shore, the words burn on her tongue.

Bella holds her as she falls asleep.

Two weeks later, Bella and Grace stand side-by-side outside Port Angeles airport. It's a small place, a lot like the plane they'd connected with from Seattle. There's a worn-down fidget cube in Grace's pocket that her mom had given her that morning. It's blue; her favourite colour.

"Do you think he'll be in the cruiser?" Bella asks with a wince.

Grace shrugs, pulling her knit cardigan closer to her body. Her hands are still trembling. She isn't scared of flying, never has been, but the loudness of the engines had provoked a handful of sensory overloads over past five hours.

"Probably. He is the Chief."

Bella grimaces. "I hope I'll be able to find a car before school starts. You think Charlie-"

"You should call him dad." Grace interrupts. "It makes him sad when you call him Charlie."

"Right," Bella takes a small breath.

Five minutes later, Charlie pulls up in the cruiser. Grace doesn't think twice before darting across the parking lot to hug him. He lets out a gruff breath when she throws herself at him, but reciprocates the embrace nonetheless. He holds her tightly.

His uniform smells like stale potato chips and gunpowder, but Grace couldn't care less. The pressure is amazing. He's always given good, solid hugs.

"Hey there, Gracie." He chuckles when she finally pulls away. "You have a good flight?"

"It was fine." She doesn't elaborate any further before climbing into the car. She curls up against the door and savours the absence of noise. She closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath.

"Hey, dad," Bella says after Grace shuts herself in the car.

Charlie gives her an awkward one-armed hug. "It's good to see you, Bells."

When he releases her, she doesn't even manage a single step before stumbling over her suitcase. He automatically steadies her. "You haven't changed much. How was the flight?"

"Loud," Bella frowns, shooting a concerned look at the cruiser where her sister was sitting. "But fine otherwise."

"Good." Charlie nods, grunting as he lifts their suitcases into the trunk.

Bella climbs into the passenger seat.

The drive back to Forks is only around an hour-long, but the traffic on the highway extends their journey by a good forty minutes. Grace doesn't care much, but she can tell Bella is getting antsy.

"I found a good car for you. Really cheap," Charlie says, about twenty-five minutes into the quiet journey.

"I can't drive," Grace says. He knows that.

"I know. I found it for your sister." Charlie looks at her through the rearview mirror with a smile. "I got you a little something too, though."

Grace reciprocates his smile before refocusing on her fidget cube.

Bella squints, sceptical. "What kind of car?"

"Well, it's a truck actually. A Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?"

"No," Bella shakes her head.

"Really? Do you remember Jacob?" Grace asks, baffled. The shaggy-haired Quiliuete was a stand-out memory from Grace's time in Forks.

"No," Bella says, again.

Grace is visibly thrown.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie explains.

"Ah," Bella flinches at the memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now." Charlie says, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?"

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work to the-"

Grace tunes out of the conversation, gazing out of the window. She watches as grey slowly shifts to green, concrete to grass. Her heart flutters in suppressed excitement.

Forks holds a special place in her heart. Memories of summers spent with her dad were magical; chasing butterflies with Mike Newton, attending enormous bonfires at the Reservation, swimming in the sea with Jacob and going on fishing trips with her dad and Billy. Bella never enjoyed any of it, she was a city dweller at heart, but summer was Grace's favourite time of year for a reason.

"Do we have any waffles at home?" She asks, out of the blue. She hopes Bella and her dad are finished with their discussion. Interrupting is one of her more vexatious habits.

"Yeah, I got you your waffles," Charlie assures. He smiles brightly in the mirror-like she's made him the happiest man alive. She blinks in confusion but attempts to imitate the expression. She's certain hers resembles more of a perplexed grimace, though.

Bella purses her lips to conceal a fond smile. It's amusing, sometimes, how unaware her sister can be. They'd been in Forks for less than two hours and Grace was already referring to the place as home; no wonder Charlie was thrilled.

Charlie stops at a red-light. "So, you two looking forward to starting school?"

Bella shrugs, not sure what to say to that.

Grace, however, nods. "I like school. Did you make sure they got our transcripts?"

"Sure did." Charlie nods. "I went in and spoke to Sarah Cope yesterday. They've got everything they need. Your records, personal information. All of it."

"Did you remember to get a copy of Grace's class schedule?" Bella asks. It's a weighted question.

"Sure did," Charlie says. Bella nods in relief. Grace simply smiles at her dad in gratitude. "Don't worry. I made a list of everything I needed to do to make sure I wouldn't forget anything."

"Good idea." Grace offers her genuine support at his preparation technique. "Lists are great. I love lists."

"Yeah," Charlie nods. His eyes are soft as he glances at her over his shoulder. "I know."

Grace settles back into her seat, content.

---

When they pull up outside of the familiar house, Grace shifts in her seat at the sight of the unfamiliar truck on the drive. She'll get used to it soon enough, but in all the years she's been alive her dad has only ever owned a cruiser. The development is unnerving.

They're quick to get out of the cruiser, everyone eager to stretch their legs after their respective journeys. Grace reaches down to touch her toes, stretching her tailbone. She stands up when she hears Bella gasp in delight.

She walks around the cruiser and sees the genuine joy on Bella's face as she examines the red Chevy.

"Wow, Dad! I love it! Thanks." She exclaims, eyes wide as she investigates the vehicle.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie says, gruffly, clearly embarrassed.

Grace eyes the old truck warily. "It looks loud."

Charlie pats her shoulder. "There's a pair of noise-cancelling earmuffs in the glove box. Best on the market, according to the woman down at Buy'N'Save."

Grace smiles, so does Bella.

They drag their luggage into the house, Grace's suitcase significantly lighter than Bella's. She already has clothes at Charlie's from last summer, whereas Bella doesn't.

When they get inside, Charlie takes her class schedule off of the fridge and Grace spends the next hour revising it before putting it back up. She hangs it with one of the magnets she'd painted during her 'magnet making' phase a few years ago.

Dinner is a quiet affair. They're all tired and grouchy. So instead of cooking or venturing out to the diner, they order Chinese takeout and eat in front of the TV before Grace snuggles into Bella's bed beside her and falls asleep before eleven pm.

The next morning, Grace finally hauls her suitcase upstairs and puts it in her room. It's smaller than the other two bedrooms in the house, more of a boxroom than anything else, but it has just enough room for a double bed, a wardrobe, a desk and her yoga mat. She has a window overlooking the woods, the walls are painted light grey and the floor is wooden. Unlike her room back in Pheonix, she knows she can get a good night sleep here.

Breakfast goes something like this. Bella makes toast without opening the back door and sets off the smoke alarm. Charlie drinks four mugs of black coffee and Grace briefly frets over his caffeine intake. Bella manages to shut up the fire alarm with some violent tea-towel dancing. Grace cooks three waffles in Charlie's new microwave and approves of the new appliance. Before heading to work, Charlie offers them both good luck for their first day. Bella does the dishes while Grace packs herself a simple lunch of carrots and cucumber sticks.

Then, with one last inspection of the house to ensure they've not left any outlets on or windows open, they climb into Bella's new truck. It's raining, not heavily but not lightly either. It's typical Forks weather and Grace, for what its worth, doesn't work herself up over the hazards of driving on wet roadways without experience. Bella is a good driver; cautious and aware. There's no reason to worry.

Grace puts on the earmuffs before Bella turns on the engine and offers a thumbs up in approval. She can still hear the rumble of the engine, but it's faint. If anything, it's actually soothing. Bella fiddles with the radio for a few minutes before they set off.

Forks High School is far smaller than the last school they'd attended, but it's still extensive. Bella pulls into a marked out space in the middle of the already crowded lot. A few heads turn to stare and it makes Bella shift in discomfort. Grace isn't bothered by it.

She keeps her hands in the pockets of her raincoat, one hand playing with her fidget cube and the other just keeping warm. Her hood is up too, hair tucked into her sweater to protect it from the rain.

She and Bella meet at the tail end of the truck. Bella laces her arm through Grace's and together they walk through the parking lot like wild animals being led to an enclosure. Everyone stares and a handful of overly confident people whisper. Two people wolf whistle, but Grace is deaf to it and Bella is too flustered to say anything.

The office is overly warm, there are potted plants everywhere and a small seating area that looks absurdly uncomfortable. Bella approaches the desk while Grace stops to look at the notice-board. She's not usually a fan of extra-curriculurs, but it's always nice to know what's on offer.

"Here," A few minutes later, Bella taps her shoulder to draw her attention away from the plethora of flyers. She hands over two pieces of paper. "There's another copy of your schedule. And a map." Then she hands over a small piece of card. "You need to get this stamped by all of your teachers."

"Do we have any classes together?"

"No. We have lunch together though"

Bella's a year and a half older than Grace and takes mostly AP classes, whereas Grace is below average in everything other than Art, where she exceeds AP levels. Her mom had tried to get her tutors, but her efforts had been in vain. Renee had been self-conscious of her bad grades as if they were her own. It was weird.

Grace studies the map as they walk out of the office and back out into the parking lot. "There's a lot of buildings here. This place is bigger than it looks."

"I wonder how many students they have."

Grace looks at her sister. "Three hundred-thirty-eight. They have it posted on the notice board."

"Oh," Bella's eyes grow wide. Their last school in Phoenix had upwards of four thousand.

Grace looks at the schedule in her hands. "I have calculus first."

"You'll be fine." Bella insists as they reach the truck again. They still had ten minutes to waste before they'd need to head to class. Sitting in the truck and shielding from the rain was a better plan than awkwardly hovering in the corridors. "You've been studying really hard."

"Okay." Grace ducks into the passenger seat and waits for Bella to get in the drivers side before continuing. "But what if they only have blue ink pens?"

"You have three black ink pens in your bag." Bella says. "I have two spares if you somehow manage to lose them all before the end of the day. If you text me, I'll bring you one."

Grace nods. "Okay."

Bella fixes her sister with a gentle smile. "That everything? We've still got a few minutes."

"I can have my fidget out in class?" She asks. Bella nods. "Okay. That's everything."

Bella reaches over and squeezes her hand. She holds on for a long time. The constant pressure melts away the tension that'd built in her shoulder.

She sinks against the seat and watches the rain beat down on the windscreen.

She's not nervous. There are no metaphorical butterflies in her stomach. No, she's just apprehensive.

Change is tough, but with her sister by her side and her fidget in her pocket, there's nothing Grace Swan can't do.

#baby steps #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock imagine #jasper hale one shot #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight oneshot #major whitlock imagine #major whitlock fanfiction

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ofwizardsandmen · 4 years ago

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Pride and prejudice

Characters: Minah Delacroix, Enzo St. Pierre, Johnny Suh, Leah Richmond

Word count : 1,3k

Collection of drabbles in which Tara & Mark's friends react to their engagement

Mayfair - Beauté+

“I can’t believe them” Enzo St. Pierre’s voice echoes in the silence of Minah’s large office. For a man with quite a free-spirited approach to life and his easy-going temperament, he sounds particularly bitter. Minah ignores her friend for a brief moment in favor of the contract in front of her. After all, Enzo had installed himself on the pink velvet sofa across her desk hours ago and so far he’d done nothing but to watch her go through paperwork as he scrolled down his OwLine’s —Sungjae’s latest social media app— feed.

Now, despite the rumors that circulate about him, Minah knows that Enzo Saint-Pierre is not one to enjoy watching women like some creep. No, Enzo can’t lie for his life —at least not to Minah—, so she is aware that the only reason he’s pretending to wait for her approval before embarking on a new project is the long-forgotten mail in his office that keeps —literally— exploiting on his desk.

Biting down a laugh, the young woman watches Enzo toss his phone on the couch with a scoff and the sudden urge to discuss Gossip Witch’s latest blast prompts her to push aside the stack of documents in front of her.

“So you heard about the Olivier’s launching a lipstick collection?” she asks visibly amused.

“What?” For a second or two, Enzo seems the slightest bit perplexed, but his confusion quickly morphs into a disgusted frown. “Eww. No. That’s obviously a desperate attempt to one-up our company and we’ll get back to this real quick, but I am talking about Tara and Yang” Enzo says, leaping out of his seat to slide his phone across Minah’s desk.

Minah can’t remember a time Enzo has ever used that uncharacteristic whiny tone to talk about his best friend and her boyfriend, so she eyes him with a confused frown.

Moving closer to her, Enzo simply deadpans “They got engaged”.

“Engaged?” The young woman looks at Enzo over the rim of her Dior reading glasses, almost refusing to believe one of their closest friends —and arguably the wisest of them all— would make such a life-changing decision overnight. This is surely her business partner reading that Gossip Witch rip-off website again. “Love, I’ve told you to stop reading that fake Gossip Witch page-”

Enzo rolls eyes fleetingly before pushing his phone closer to Minah. “This is real, Min. Look for yourself”

Still downplaying the situation, Minah slowly takes her glasses off and grabs Enzo’s phone. She almost has an “I-told-you-so” escaping from her crimson lips when her eyes catch a glimpse of a red box on the screen. Minah blinks twice before reading Tara’s very simple message. “Mark proposed”. Two pictures are attached as proof: the first one shows a huge diamond ring —Cartier, evidently—; the other captures Mark and Tara smiling brightly to the camera, he's holding his guitar with one hand while his free arm holds his girlfriend's waist.

“Well, this is-“ Minah flounders at a loss for words, unsure of what and how she is supposed to feel. Surely those are good news, but there is also a part of her that feels wronged by the fact she is finding out about them through a message sent to Enzo.

“Horrible” Enzo completes the unfinished sentence, a huff slipping past his lips.

“No!” Minah is quick to deny. She throws her shoulders back and fixes her position to appear composed “I mean, completely unexpected yes, but those are great news.” She goes on, in an attempt to brainwash herself into believing she isn’t offended at all “I just-“ The woman purposely ignores the way Enzo rolls eyes for a second time and instead reaches for her own phone, secretly hoping that Tara had the courtesy to inform her too. “Isn’t Mark famous? Why would he propose without a big eve- wait, did he plan a proposal event and kept us out of it?” She bombards Enzo with questions as she goes through the dozens of messages she’d received that morning, a cold trickle of anger shivering down her spine when she realizes she has received the exact same message.

___

Camden Town - Leah Richmond’s house

On the other side of Regent’s Park, in a small residence in Camden Town and with Natalie Imbruglia’s most —and probably only— famous song playing in the background, Leah Richmond walks into her kitchen to find the broad-shouldered and tall figure of Johnny Suh. Her first instinct is to laugh at how ridiculously cute her boyfriend looks, dressed in a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans that barely cover his ankles, and a yellow apron with a silly duck print, but upon registering the way he is angrily holding a frying pan and a plastic spatula, she decides against it.

“Is this about to become another how-do-you-even-survive-without-me speech?” Leah questions biting the inside of her cheek when he turns to look at her. The fact she has gotten used to Johnny’s slightly obsessive cleaning habits and long rants that remind her of her mother doesn’t mean she’s learned to appreciate them. Especially not when she has huge news to deliver. “If yes, I’d like to skip it or save it until you hear the news. I was on the phone with Tara and you won’t believe-”

“How stupid Mark is?” Johnny interrupts, he places the frying pan and the spatula on the counter before turning to the fridge. “You’d think he can’t possibly get worse, but he always delivers. I’m actually glad Tara is…” Johnny makes a pause to look at Leah and see her reaction, so far she looks perfectly confused. “…so brainwashed or so in love, whichever it is” he shrugs, earning a soft chuckle from his girlfriend.

“Wow, news surely travel fast.” Leah rolls eyes playfully and clicks her tongue disapprovingly “And Tara said I was the first person she called”

“Well, Mark was panicking and about to tell Tara he was joking, so-” Johnny pulls the fridge open with such force the door ends up hitting the wall. Johnny stops on his tracks, shocked by his own strength and expression mildly panicked making its way onto his face. Leah still wants to laugh, but there’s something holding her back, something she can’t quite figure out yet

In its place, she glares at her boyfriend until he’s purposely avoiding her eyes. “Great, destroy my house because you’re jealous of your crush getting married”

“And who are you even marrying to?” Johnny replies smoothly, earning himself a quick peck on the lips and a soft slap on the shoulder. Leah also gifts him with an inexplicable warmth spreading in his chest as she laughs.

“Now, for real, I know Tara doesn’t really care about that kind of thing, but I can’t believe Mark improvised a proposal.” Johnny pulls out a carton of eggs, picks a couple of tomatoes and pushes the fridge close with a loud thud. “That’s no way to ask the love of your life to marry you, where did he even learn about relationships? Clearly not from me or Taeyong” Johnny shakes his head in disapproval as he moves around the kitchen opening cabinets and taking out ingredients and supplies “I hope Mark is dealt with accordingly, no woman deserves such a lackluster proposal. Especially not Tara.”

“Well, knowing Ara and Adela, I’ll be surprised if Mark even makes it to dinner tonight” Leah chuckles “And don’t forget Enzo”

“Or her brother” Johnny shudders involuntarily when the image of Tyler Lee invades his mind. “Tara will be lucky if Mark even makes it to the wedding”

Minutes later when Johnny settles a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of steaming coffee in front of her and complains about Mark’s “lack of creative effort in the romance department”, Leah finally dares to ask a question that has been reverberating inside her brain. “Hey, Suh, what’s the right way to propose to a girl then?”

Johnny is briefly taken aback. His eyes widen the slightest bit and he gulps almost imperceptibly before replying with a smart “You’ll know when I do it” that leaves Leah bursting out in laughter but feeling oddly flattered.

...

#johnny #leah #friends #minah #enzo #story #oc

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holgadirect-blog · 5 years ago

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gslocks123 · 5 years ago

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What Type of Locksmith Services You Shall Never Seek?

When one reads the adverse news reports about the involvement of locksmiths in the crime, it is natural for the people to get frightened and be doubly cautious about using their services in future. The providers of the " target="_blank">locksmith services are always under the government scanner since there are complaints about their ways and means from the public.

Whether you like to take their services or not, they are inevitable to be called when you face the lock-and-key problems. But, it is suggested that if you are able to spot some uncustomary communication of behaviour from the locksmith services provider, then it is better not to call that person or company. Here are some of the tips which can help you spot the troubling areas during the communication itself:

1. Over-eagerness to know your location: When you have called a residential locksmith, you are bound to give him the address where the locksmith is to come. Despite this, if you find that the representative of the company is more than interested in first knowing your location and then talking later on, then this can mean something is fishy with this company.

It is suggested that you shall disclose the information about the location where there is problem only when you are fully satisfied with the company.

Hesitant to disclose more information about the company: If you enquire about the company and you find that the representative is not very forthcoming on this topic or is reluctant to provide the truthful and correct information about the company, it is natural to suspect that company for being a fake.

3. Inconsistencies: If you have spotted the glaring inconsistencies between what is being told by the representative verbally and what is written on the website of the locksmith services provider, then it natural to seek clarification for the same.

locksmith Denver is best dumped and not sought.

Customer service representative looks confused or uninformed: You would expect the customer service representative to be well informed so as to provide satisfactory answers to the queries regarding every aspect of the locksmith services. If you find that the representative is perplexed or is seeking someone else advice on what to say or even telling you answers hesitatingly, then the company is not likely to be professional in the management in its affairs. This can even lead you to conclude that the company may not be having sufficient control over the so-called emergency, 24 hour locksmith that it will be sending you at odd hours and at odd places.

Therefore, you can play safe by making out the nature of the locksmith services company over the phone call itself.

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gslocksmith · 5 years ago

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What Type of Locksmith Services You Shall Never Seek?

It is suggested that you shall disclose the information about the location where there is problem only when you are fully satisfied with the company.

locksmith Denver is best dumped and not sought.

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365daysoftododeku · 6 years ago

Text

21st May 2019

Author: Kenyoda

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Izuku carefully picked his way through the trash. He needed an intact fan, several if he could manage to find them. The mini ones would be best. If need be he could disassemble some larger ones and take them up to the beach wagon he bought. The easiest place to get them was from here, so many electrical things had washed up and been tossed onto the messy beach. He had started coming to Dagobah Beach a few months ago after his ninth birthday. His mother had gotten him a small Raspberry Pi set and several tools and scrap to tinker with. No doubt she was hoping to take his mind off of his hero obsession. Everyone had long sense written him off since he was diagnosed as Quirkless. But Izuku was stubborn and he was going to be a hero, Quirkless or not.

His mother had sparked a new interest in him, but not in the way she wanted to. He had mostly played with the set in order to appease her. But then he noticed something as he was looking through his notebook. There were heroes that relied on gear to use their Quirk to its fullest or help them capture villains! Eraserhead had his scarves… and even All Might’s suits protected him from the potential backlash of his powerful attacks. If heroes with Quirks still needed gadgets to be heroes, then what was stopping him from being a hero using his mind and gadgets?

So, he began to pay special attention to heroes that used support items. He took a crazy amount of notes and began studying relentlessly. He switched from watching Superhero cartoons to watching educational tv shows when he was not following hero news. He quickly discovered that HeroTube had a ton of education videos and even instructional videos. He began to devour them.

His mom didn’t always have the money to buy him scraps and parts. But the resourceful little boy always found ways to get what he wanted or needed. The day he had read about all the junk at the abandoned Beach Park, he was ecstatic! He began salvaging what he could carry and cleaning it up. So far he has managed to make a simple remote control car and pulleys and such. But they were all programmable.

He was working his way up to more complicated things. Today he wanted the fan parts to try and make a propeller boat and then maybe later something that could put out tunnels of air to blow things out of his way or distract villains. At least that was the idea. He got the idea from the hero Air Jet. He wanted to give it a shot, but the boat would be easier to put together.

Finally, he managed to find a couple of mini-fans missing their front covers and in a few fans and bases. Hopefully, they weren’t from the water and that they were just junk someone threw here. He quickly made his way over to his wagon and placed the items in it. He wiped his hands on his pants and continued to dig around the smaller, less dangerous piles for more materials.

A strange noise then drew his attention. It was the sound of voices. A spike of panic went through him. Were they adults? Would he get in trouble? He raced to hide, circling around the trash pile he had been searching. He belatedly realized that he had left his wagon out in the open to, but the sound shifting sand told him that whoever was coming towards him was getting closer. He just hoped that they would ignore it.

“What if he finds us?” asked one voice. They sounded young, like him. Suddenly, his curiosity overrode his fear.

“He won’t… he can’t see us behind all the trash… besides… you know he doesn’t actually care what we do as long as we come back. We will just take a look at the water and go back.” Reasoned another, also childlike. Izuku was confused but relieved. It sounded like there were other kids headed his way. He cast a glance at the water. It was kind of sad, it was very pretty, but it couldn’t be seen because of the trash.

Suddenly, there was a great commotion on the other side of the trash pile. Izuku quickly peeked around it and his eyes widened. Sitting on the ground, at first glance, were two boys. One had a head full of snowy white hair and the other a deep red. The redhead’s bright blue eyes widened when they landed on Izuku while the gray of the other narrowed. What had given Izuku pause, however, was the fact that the two were actually joined together at the waist. While they each possessed their own heads, arms and torsos, they shared a single wide waist and a pair of stocky legs. He had never seen anything like it before. He briefly wondered if it had to do with a Quirk when the white haired one spoke,

“What are you staring at?” he demanded. Izuku blushed. He opened his mouth to apologize.

“Shou… be nice,” pleaded the redhead. “I am sure we just scared him. Is that your wagon?” Izuku nodded.

“Yeah! I come here to collect things to build with. A-Are you o-ok? Do you need help?” he asked as he stepped out from behind the trash pile and made his way towards the two… brothers? He held out his hand, smiling gently.

“Ummm… that would be nice… this sand is a bit…” started the redhead as he reached for something shiny in the sand.

“bothersome,” finished Shou. Izuku blinked at that. Shou was also reaching for a gleaming rod in the sand. As Izuku got closer, he realized that they were a pair of crutches that the two must use to hold themselves up. There were a bajillion questions moving through his head as his hand dropped back to his side. But he knew it was impolite to pry about people’s conditions. He definitely did not like it when people did it to him about his Quirklessness.

“Ok! Umm… maybe I can help lift you up?” Izuku suggested as he went around behind them. The two nodded. Between all of them, the two were back on their feet and leaning on the canes. They were metal with gray armrests that wrapped around their arms.

“Thanks for helping us. Sorry I was mean earlier. Most people…” Shou said.

“Aren’t so nice,” finished the redhead sadly. Izuku nodded.

“Yeah, people aren’t always nice,” Izuku agreed.

“Why?” asked the redhead.

“I’m Q-Quirkless,” he said hesitantly. The boys’ eyes widened.

“Ooh! Why would people be mean about that? I mean, we look weird… but you look fine to me,” said Shou. The redhead nodded eagerly. Izuku shrugged.

“Dunno really. No one wants to be my friend. It just makes me sad,” said Izuku, staring at his shoes.

“Uh huh,” said the brothers. The children stood in contemplation for a moment. Then Izuku grinned as an idea came to him.

“Do you guys wanna be friends?” he asked. The two boys perked up and looked at each other wide eyed.

“Really?” They asked in stereo. He laughed.

“Yeah! I’m Midoriya! Midoriya Izuku!” he said, smiling. Both boys grinned back.

“I’m Shou! He’s Tou!” said Shou while pointing at his brother.

“Well... our father named us Shouto. He didn’t realize that we two people not one, I guess,” said Tou as an afterthought. Shou muttered something under his breath. Tou gave him a look and Shou rolled his eyes. Izuku was ecstatic! He had two new friends! He ran to his wagon and dug around. He dug out his notebook and a pen.

“Maybe if we exchange numbers or addresses we can call or write each other! Little Heroes is fine, too!” he rambled as he wrote down his info. When he looked up the two were staring at him with perplexed expressions.

“Little...”

“Heroes?”

“Yeah! It’s a website where you can make your own hero n’ play games n’ stuff! I’ll write it down for you!” Izuku did so before ripping the page out and handing it to them. He watched in fascination as the two worked together to fold the paper and then stick it the pocket on the front of the shorts they were wearing. Tou then recited their information and Izuku wrote it down.

“We should…”

“Go. Our minder will be looking for us soon.” They said before turning to look at the water.

“Ooh…” Tou gasped softly, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s pretty, nii-chan,”

“Yeah, too bad there is so much trash…” said Shou. Izuku made a noise of agreement. Maybe one day it could be fixed. The three days watched the waves from a few moments before parting ways.

“Bye, bye Izu-chan!” they chorused before they left.

“Bye, Bye Shou-chan, Tou-chan!” he had called after them. He went back to work with a small smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to finish so he could go home and tell his mom all about his new friends!

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

#Story #ebonyphd #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu

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janeofcakes · 6 years ago

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FJW: Chapter 13

** Hello and Happy Mother’s Day to anyone that applies to! I join you tonight with another spellbinding chapter as I sit in bed with my laptop and my guilty pleasure playing in the background. I intend to do some typing and editing after I post. Gotta keep up and definitely, definitely not disappoint. Sadly, my meds have been knocking me out all weekend. Give me strength with positive Johnlock vibes. Haha. Y’all are the greatest. Thank you. **

John has been home for three weeks now. He has one week of physical therapy left, having continued to make such great strides that Dr. Hoover believes his work nearly done. John tends to agree. He is perfectly capable of nearly anything he could do before. At least, he thinks so. John has remembered precious little since his move back to Baker Street. A fact he finds very troubling.

He is not entirely discouraged, however. Sometimes when he’s reading a book he has actually read before, the words become familiar and he remembers something about the first time he read it. Maybe a feeling or the sun shining through the window and onto the floor of the flat or the expression on Sherlock’s face, the look in his eye. Other times, John will glance up from a book to see short scenes play out before his eyes. Sometimes he can hear what the players are saying and others it’s like someone has pushed the mute button on a remote control. No scene is ever complete and they seldom make sense. He always needs another piece or two of information, but never gets it. John often considers telling Sherlock. Perhaps he would fill in the blanks. He has not yet tested that theory.

Sherlock and Rosie burst through the door to 221B. The little girl drops her school bag and tears off her coat. She tosses it to its hook and hits the target perfectly. Sherlock raises a brow, following her slowly.

“Daddy!” she calls, making her way to the sitting room. Sherlock listens from the kitchen where he starts water boiling and begins collecting ingredients for pasta sauce. “Daddy?”

She walks into the kitchen with a perplexed expression on her face. Sherlock doesn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know she is there and what she is about to ask.

“Do you want to help with the sauce?” he asks. Still frowning, Rosie pulls the three-step stool from where it is slotted between the refrigerator and wall. She unfolds it and pushes it up to the counter next to her father. He hands her the open jar of tomato paste and a spoon.

“Where is Daddy?” she asks, spooning it into a pot.

“Well, he was at physical therapy until five, as you know,” he begins chopping an onion. “Lestrade picked him up to go to dinner.”

“We’re going to a restaurant?” her eyes are bright and excited.

“No,” Sherlock turns his head, “Daddy and Lestrade are going to a restaurant. You and I are making dinner right now. To eat at home.”

“But why can’t we go to a restaurant too?” the girl pouts.

“Because Daddy and Lestrade want to talk. They haven’t had the chance since Daddy came home. They were good friends before Daddy went to the hospital.”

“I want to eat at a restaurant.”

“We’re making spaghetti, remember?” Sherlock holds out the cutting board covered with chopped onions. “You were excited about this all the way home. Now, are you helping or not?”

Rosie casts her eyes upward and quickly decides to abandon her strop in favor of dumping the onions into the sauce. Spaghetti is her absolute favorite and making the meal with her papa is even more fun than experiments. It’s always amazing how he knows the recipe without even opening a cookbook.

***

After dinner and the washing up, Sherlock settles in at his desk with his laptop. He is reading one of the cases from John’s blog. People still comment and send private messages, even though it has not been updated in years. Sherlock has found new clients nearly every time he has visited the website, not that he’s looking. His only desire ever to read John’s words and see into his mind again. While John was unconscious, the blog and his mind palace were his only solace. And Rosie, of course. They were the only ways to see that beautiful mind, the mind of the man he missed so much. Now that John is awake and even in the flat, Sherlock has found some relief, but the bulk of John’s mind is still shut off to all of them. Sherlock finds himself drawn to the blog, especially when John is not at home. He has the need for that connection they have always had through cases. That which they lack now, John still having no idea they have ever worked together.

As Sherlock reads the case, recalling the details and marveling at John’s skill as a storyteller, he glances toward the fireplace where Rosie appears to be setting up a colossal matchbox racing track. The release point is attached to the mantle, making for quite a sizable drop to gain the momentum required to make it through the many turns and loops in the track. She has made use of her blocks and dollhouse as supports for the drop, having already learned that the cars just fall off the track when it simply hangs from a tall spot. Sherlock smiles at her ingenuity and returns his eyes to the screen before him.

A couple of cases later, he feels a little hand on his shoulder and turns his head to look sideways at his daughter. As per usual, she has pushed the footrest up behind his desk chair to stand on so she is at his eye level.

“Have you tested it?” he smirks.

“Not yet. I’m taking a break,” she tells him with her eyes on the laptop. “What’s dee-cape-itation?”

“Decapitation,” Sherlock corrects. “It is having one’s head severed at the neck.”

“Severed?”

“Cut off.”

“Oh,” her expression is somewhere between disgust and intrigue. Sherlock grimaces.

“This is probably not the best reading material for you.”

“But it instrests me.”

“Irrelevant. It is inappropriate for a five year old.”

“Then you shouldn’t read things that are so instresting to me.”

Sherlock lets out a quiet laugh and pulls her into his arms. She giggles, grabbing both shoulders with her little hands and holding tight as he stands.

“Let’s test out this track, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

***

John leans back in the booth at Greg Lestrade’s favorite pub and pops a chip in his mouth. He laughs at his friend’s jokes as they share stories - police work, living with Rosie and Sherlock. A lot about Sherlock, to be honest. Greg tells some choice tales from crime scenes that have them both in stitches. Greg spears his fish with a fork and brings it to his smiling lips as he finishes a particularly amusing one. John tilts his head back and laughs heartily.

“Oh my god, that is priceless,” John looks to Greg again and then glances around the pub. Greg laughs around his bite and readies another. John turns to him again, sobering a bit. “This is a great pub.”

“It is at that.”

“Did we used to come here a lot?” he asks. Greg swallows the food and watches his friend, his smile fading a little.

“We did,” he nods. “When we wanted to relax or needed to talk. Or you wanted to get away from a certain detective. He can be quite a handful.”

Greg smirks, but John remains serious. There is something on his mind and he has to talk with someone before he goes spare. John studies the DCI with a narrowed gaze. His fingers hover around the rim of his pint as he decides how to best approach this.

“Can we talk now?” he tests the waters. Greg inhales deeply and gestures with his hand.

“We are, aren’t we?” he comments jovially.

“Not quite what I mean,” John fixes him with steady eyes. Greg grows more serious as he picks up his own pint from the table.

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s Sherlock,” John wets his lips. “He’s troubled.”

“Troubled?” Greg asks in confusion. “About what? A case?” Greg’s eyes go wide and he leans toward the table, suddenly very concerned. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not that,” John sighs and rests his elbows on the table, his fingers toying with his half-full pint. “There’s something I don’t know, that I don’t remember and Sherlock seems to...to dread it.”

“Have you recalled anything since you got home?”

“Not really. Sometimes a conversation or a feeling. Maybe part of a scene playing out, but it never comes together. It’s all so murky.”

“I’m sure it’ll come to light.”

“Yeah, but when?” John persists. “And why is Sherlock so disturbed by what I might remember? Can it really be so bad?”

“Well,” Greg purses his lips and contemplates John’s questions. He knows so much more about John’s past than he does right now and John wishes Greg would just tell him what he wants to know. He knows it is far better for him to remember his life on his own, but waiting is so damn frustrating. And feeling like he’s making no progress at all and what the fuck is Sherlock so worried he’ll remember?

“There were a lot of cases. A lot of enemies. It’s a recipe for danger.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” John looks befuddled, and irritated. “They were Sherlock’s cases.”

Greg’s eyes go wide, the beginning of panic, the realization that he’s said too much. John can see it all on his face before he schools it. If John could hear Greg’s thoughts, they would be curses. The DCI clears his throat and shifts in the booth uncomfortably.

“Right. Sherlock’s cases. You’re right,” his lips are a thin line and he bites his upper lip. His eyes dart away from John’s and he grabs his pint, hurriedly taking a pull.

John observes every detail thoughtfully. Greg is clearly nervous about what he just said, but it seems so innocuous. John had worked at a surgery. Sherlock worked the cases. Neither had anything to do with the other, but Greg’s words hinted at it. John narrows his eyes, considering the possibilities. Greg assumed John would know what he meant and became anxious when he realized John did not know. He said something he shouldn’t have and it is now absolutely essential that John know what it is this minute. His deep blue eyes grow wide as the pieces fall into place.

“Unless,” he begins, “someone kidnapped me. Used me to get to Sherlock?”

Greg’s gaze is locked on John. He doesn’t reply, taking a large swallow of beer instead. John hit the nail on the head and can’t help a satisfied smirk. Greg puffs out a bemused breath.

“Christ, you’re more like him every day,” he mutters. John’s lips curl down and he leans in, even more serious than before.

“He told me for years to not just see but observe. I finally feel like I can.”

“Did he now?” Greg places his nearly empty pint back on the tabletop, his face grim. He meets John’s eyes with a weighty gaze and there it is.

It pops into his mind and immediately fills him with a sinking feeling. It is on the edge of his brain, but won’t come into focus. This pane of glass is one of the darkest, like his mind doesn’t want him to ever know what it hides. An image flashes through his thoughts like lightning and he gasps.

“What?” Greg asks on high alert. “What is it?”

“I…” John opens his eyes, not even aware he had closed them, “remember a coat. A parka. And a swimming pool?”

Greg straightens and presses his lips together firmly. He pushes his pint closer to the center of the table.

“Look, John, I think we should talk about something else. This isn’t the place for that.”

“For what?” John challenges. Greg just shakes his head, looking at him with regret. Frustration peaking, John barrels on. “Fine. Fine. Then we can get back to my first question. What is Sherlock so afraid of?”

“John,” Greg begins, his voice filled with sincerity, “there are so many things you don’t know yet. A lot has changed.”

A hot flash of anger courses through John’s body. He wants to snap at his friend, tell him that Sherlock repeats that same sentence every fucking day. Okay, an exaggeration, but still something that pisses him off. He is acutely aware that he remembers virtually nothing about important parts of his life and the man he loves. He doesn’t appreciate having it thrown in his face, thank you very much and fuck off.

But John does not snap at Greg because his last four words stop John cold. ‘A lot has changed.’ Of course it has. Maybe that’s why Sherlock is so worried. John was in a coma for five years, a long time to be alone with a small child to raise. Maybe Sherlock met someone. Fell in love with someone. The very thought squeezes John’s heart sharply and pain bursts into his chest.

“Have I really changed that much?” he shakes his head in dismay. “Am I so different?”

Greg’s expression sparks in surprise before quickly settling into sympathy. He leans in intently.

“Oh, no, John, no. You are almost exactly like you were before. You’re still a good man. Always have been.”

“Almost?” John glazes over the rest. He is different and, even if it’s small, it’s driving Sherlock away.

“John. God, I know how that must sound, but it’s not like that. If anything, you’re more patient than you used to be.”

“More patient?” he questions, raising his brows.

“Yeah, but you act the same, think the same, more or less. Your personality hasn’t really changed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What I’m worried about is Sherlock,” John’s tone is all business. He may not remember being Captain Watson, but he can certainly adopt the persona when he wants to. “Things are so different between us.”

“You remember how it was before?”

“Well, no,” John clarifies, shrugging, “not as such. It’s more like assumptions, really. I have no doubt that we were happy and now… He’s happy, but he’s also sad. And scared. That’s what really bothers me.��

“Scared?”

“Yes. He’s scared of what I don’t know and what I’ll remember,” he pauses, taking care to gauge every detail of Greg’s reaction to his next words, “or what I’ll find out.”

His friend furrows his brow, his face somewhere between disbelief and utter confusion. John feels frustration building within, threatening to take over his brain. Sherlock has made every effort to make John comfortable since he moved back into the flat they once shared, but he goes out of his way not to touch him or change clothing in their bedroom at the same time. Or kiss him. God, why won’t he kiss him?

“He’s...distant at times,” John tries to find a way to explain and fails. Greg’s expression changes to one of knowing, certainty - like it’s to be expected.

“When he’s in his ‘mind palace’,” he raises his hands to make air quotes. “Yeah, he does that.”

“Look, I know that. He explained that,” John exhales his frustration. “This isn’t when he’s thinking. It’s different. Times when it makes sense for him to touch me or…”

Greg’s brow is down again, a frown on his lips. John swallows hard. He may as well go all in.

“Like when we’re in bed,” he goes on, abandoning all notion of decorum. He has held this in for so long and can stifle it no longer. “He doesn’t come near me. He doesn’t snuggle or sleep facing me. He won’t even hold my hand.”

“You..” Greg struggles to find the words. He look utterly befuddled. “You sleep. With Sherlock. In his bed.”

“Yes,” John answers simply. Greg blinks once and gapes at the doctor. He has absolutely no idea what to make of that. John is not entirely sure why Greg is so shocked, but fixes him with determination and continues. He’s too close to voicing his real concerns now and he can’t turn back. “Greg, do you think it’s possible that Sherlock doesn’t love me anymore?”

His friend’s face goes completely slack and a rush of breath puffs from his mouth. He leans back in the booth and looks at John for a moment before licking his lips and leaning forward again.

“No, John, there is no doubt in my mind that he loves you. But he doesn’t want to push you. You haven’t been awake long at all and you’re still recovering. It’s going to take some time, that’s all.”

John’s shoulders drop and he sighs, disappointed and frustrated. Gutted.

“I know,” Greg continues quickly. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but that’s the reality of it. He wants to give you time. To remember, to be comfortable. Everything he’s doing, everything he’s done for the last five years, and even before that, has been for you. Just hold on. It’ll all make sense eventually.”

***

John white knuckles the armrests of his chair and his whole body tenses. He stares wide-eyed at the woman standing before him. The corner of her mouth curls up as she levels a gun at his head. He racks his brain, trying to find a plan of escape where there is none.

“I want to destroy my brother,” she tells him in an indifferent tone, “and the only person he cares about is our brother. His precious little brother.”

Her lips curl all the way into a broad smile. It is eerily familiar and pure evil. Her eyes are emotionless, unreadable, dead. She blinks slowly as she takes a step closer to his chair. He is frozen.

“The only person his precious little brat cares about,” she stops and tilts her head, eyes locked on John’s, “is you.”

John darts out of the chair as she pulls the trigger and misses, but the barrel follows his movements and she squeezes again.This bullet explodes into his forehead. The impact throws off his trajectory and his body falls to the floor awkwardly, landing on his left hip and shoulder. It should be painful, but everything is eclipsed by the searing burn of the bullet in his head. Or has it passed all the way through? John can feel the wet of the blood surrounding his cheek. It is growing larger, enveloping his head as his mind slips away.

“Rosie!” his mind screams loud enough that his head twitches. God, his little girl, his baby. He can’t leave her. She has no on else. No one.

John hears the woman’s footsteps as she comes closer to finish the job and he closes his eyes. Or are they open? He can’t tell anymore.

“Sherlock!” his mind screams again. Even louder this time. “Oh god, Sherlock. Please don’t let me die.”

John can’t see anything. He expects the shot. One shot is all it will take. Instead, a pounding vibration fills his ears. It is more noise than he has ever heard before and yet, it is quiet and far away. He hears footsteps hurry away and a cracking, splintering of wood. Footfalls rushing near, his name, and a pale face surrounded by dark curls comes into view. Or is he imagining that face?

“Sherlock,” John knows he isn’t really speaking, but he continues anyway. “Sherlock, I love you. Take care of Rosie.”

The detective is gone and there is nothing but blackness. It isn’t until that moment that John realizes his eyes were actually open all the time. Or was it no time at all? But now his eyes are closed. Never to open again.

“John. John,” the deep baritone fills John’s ears and he can feel strong hands on his shoulders. His eyes fly open to see a pair of panicked silver-grey eyes looking back. They look like...like hers.

John thrashes his legs and thrusts his arms up in between Sherlock’s, pushing the man’s arms away from John’s body roughly. The detective pulls back like he’s been burned. Without taking his eyes off those shocked grey eyes, John sits up and scrambles backwards until his back hits the headboard. The two men stare at one another apprehensively. Sherlock is on his knees at the foot of the bed, his arms still outstretched at his sides after John’s escape. He lowers his chin and looks at John gravely.

“John, it’s all right,” he says firmly. “You are safe at home. It was a nightmare.”

The doctor continues to stare. He doesn’t move a muscle. Why the hell would Sherlock not tell him he had a sister? A psychotic sister. If the dream is to be believed, and John is absolutely convinced it was a real memory, John had no idea at the time that his so-called therapist was a Holmes when she shot him. Why wouldn’t Sherlock have told him?

“John?” Sherlock draws John’s focus once more. He has not moved his arms and holds his palms out so John can see them, his fingers splayed wide as though John is a danger to him. “John, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you,” John hisses. “Why wouldn’t I be able to hear you?”

Sherlock doesn’t move and his posture is beginning to annoy John. He isn’t some dangerous caged animal, ready to lash out at anyone who crosses his path. The detective continues to watch him with a measured gaze.

“You had a nightmare.”

“A memory, more like. And a bad one at that,” John lets out an almost involuntary puff of air, just tinted by a humorless laugh. He sets his shoulders and jaw, and then wets his lips. “I remember a woman. The woman who shot me. Your sister.”

Sherlock’s eyes close slowly and his face falls. His arms move to hang at his sides in defeat. John watches his flatmate sink from standing on his knees to sitting upon his calves and feet, his legs folded beneath his body. His shoulders slouch and he looks away as he opens his eyes again. When he finally meets John’s gaze, his face is pained, his eyes filled with such sorrow and resignation.

“Her name was Eurus. She was a year younger than me. She posed as a therapist to gain your trust.”

“She said she wanted to destroy Mycroft,” John says quietly, not wanting to push too hard.

This topic clearly brings Sherlock great pain. Sherlock told him in the hospital that the woman was dead, but never mentioned who she was. John thought it was because it didn’t really matter at that point, but now it all makes sense. Why Sherlock didn’t offer any information and why Mycroft was so interested in what John could remember. As much as he would love to spare Sherlock this pain, John needs to talk about this. He needs to know and he has to understand why Sherlock didn’t trust him all those years ago.

“She you were his weakness and I was yours.”

“Oh god,” Sherlock’s voice breaks. “I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” John whispers as his eyes fill and shine. He shakes his head. “You couldn’t trust me?”

Sherlock’s eyes widen, lips parting slightly and then he ducks his head down.

“I didn’t know,” he begins unsteadily. He looks back at his friend to see confusion, wrinkled forehead and furrowed brow. “I had no idea I even had a sister. She...did something terrible when we were children. I was so traumatized I rearranged my memories to exclude her.”

Without even thinking, John lets the question slip past his lips. He regrets it immediately, but hasn’t the chance to take it back before Sherlock answers.

“What did she do?”

“She…” he pauses to steel himself and John feels like an ass for asking. The look in Sherlock’s eyes tells it all. He is about to apologize when Sherlock speaks again. “She lured my best friend to an old well and pushed him in. Mycroft couldn’t make her tell where it was and our parents wouldn’t believe she was responsible. Victor was never found.”

“Jesus, Sherlock,” John whispers in utter disbelief. His friend has such a far away look in his eyes.

“Then she set fire to our family home. It burned to the ground. No one was injured. Mycroft was already being courted and groomed by the government, so he used his contacts to manufacture Eurus’ death and held her in a maximum security asylum on an island. She grew up there and when she escaped…”

“She set about her revenge,” John interjects. “God, Sherlock, I’m sorry.”

“It was my own weakness that put you in danger.”

“You were a child.”

“If I hadn’t altered my own memory, I could have warned you.”

“I doubt that would have made any difference.”

“I could have protected you,” Sherlock insists, the tension in his voice growing.

“Stop,” John’s tone is commanding, yet gentle. He moves onto all-fours and crawls to sit on his calves inches from Sherlock. “You blame yourself. You have all these years. It’s not true.”

“It IS true.”

“No,” John’s hand is on Sherlock’s cheek and the man nearly gasps from the surprise of it. “You suffered a major trauma. You can’t blame yourself for what your mind did to survive. And if you’d known, you would’ve warned me, but would I have suspected my therapist? Would you? No.”

“John, I…” his hand closes over John’s and his eyes glisten with tears.

“You have been everything I needed you to be. I need you. So does Rosie.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does. You’re her father and she loves you.”

“I’m not her father.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Not her real father.”

Sherlock’s face is cupped between both of John’s hands now. His left thumb brushes away a falling tear.

“You are the only father she has ever known.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have been the best father I could ever imagine. You have taken care of her and given her all the love in the world. She’s so happy and smart and I wish you hadn’t had to do it alone. I wish I’d been there and I’m glad I’m here now. With you. We will be...a family.”

Sherlock is shaking his head and pulling out of John’s grasp. He rises off the bed and walks to the door, mumbling no every few steps.

“Sherlock?” John is beyond confused and worried. He watches as the detective opens the door and slips part way through before he finally stops to look back at John.

“You won’t feel that way once you know it all.”

“We can work through it. It’s all something we can work through.”

Sherlock does not answer, except to shake his head as tears fall down his cheeks. He leaves the room, closing the door softly behind.

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