800+ STA Entry for Cotton Candy

Instructions

My entry for @crisscroiss 's STA! I do NOT condone the type of stuff in this fic, it is for funny haha moments only. I'm not very good at writing funny stories, but I like to believe I'm good at writing stories in general. So, here, *I present*, mirromori x rezniya fanfic: Rezniya hated school with a burning passion. All math class ever did for her was give her migrains, essays were headache inducing at this point, and history almost never interested her. "There was never any use for it anyway now," she thought sullenly. Her profession had already been set in stone for the past few months, she was the number one horse trainer in the world. (This was only because the one and only horse she agreed to train had won every race it'd been in.) People were constantly begging her with hundreds if not thousands of dollars to train their horses as well. She refused because she believed that it wasn't her fault the horse was so well trained in every way. No one knew the now Mississippi Derby winner had such a sentient horse. Was it even counted as training if the animal could talk and understand you? Guilt and a strange longing tugged at her. She looked out the window while her math teacher blabbered on about polynomials. She saw the luscious green grass outside, wishing she could bring him here. He'd make the school day bearable, and he'd probably love all the fresh, sprinkler watered grass. Galloping through the lawn with those musclular legs, tossing his hair. She stiffened in her uncomfortable chair. She shouldn't be daydreaming about him like that! It was unprofessional. at best. She looked down at her desk, and instead of looking into glossy wood, she saw a worksheet. How long had that been there!? She fudged her way through the complicated problems. "If Johnny had 20 bottles of dish soap," yadda yadda, "Find the amount of apples, y, needed for the amount of horses, x, and the coefficient as the amount of apples needed per horse." Ten per horse is way too little. Miran needs his nutrition to keep up in those races, and to keep up that figure. Rezniya's eyes softened looking at the problem. She'd try hard on this one, if only because it reminded her of him. She needed to stop...but it was motivating her to finish her schoolwork. What helped, helped. Plus, when math finishes, she'll have training. Someone tapped on Rezniya's shoulder. Him again. She frowned, what was that annoying boy wanting now? She turned around to see a student with short coiffed blond hair and cerulean eyes, he smirked, dimpling his cheeks, and he wore that aggravating type of branded clothing that showed you he came from money. It was Michael. "Can I have a pencil, Niya?" he asked mockingly. She dug through her pencil case, took out a highlighter and dropped it in his hand. She wasn't giving that jerk her last pencil. She was still using it to solve that glorious horse problem. "It's Rezniya." He looked down happily at what she gave him, and his face immediatly soured realizing he was holding a yellow highlighter. "This isn't a pencil Rezniya. I th-," "Deal with it." She went back to work excitedly while Michael sullenly used highlighter to do his work. She finished the problem with grace, and looked at the clock. One minute left. Life was good. The bell rang! She rushed out the classroom and ran down the highway to get home. The bus probably would've been faster, but she couldn't sit and wait any longer. A light breeze cooled her face as she made her way past suburban houses and into rural farmland. Two hours later, she was home and winded. Her boots kicked up mud and dirt as she made her way to the barn. "I'm here!" A horse looked out from its stall, muscles firm and tensed, chiseled jawline working it's way through an apple, and long, flowing hair wafting from the draft. "You're back Rezniya," he said warmly. Her heart buzzed, like a toaster electricuting the bathtub that was her will for living. She loved the way he said her name, but she couldn't let that get to her. "Are you ready for training today? We have some laps to do first, but then we'll move on to hurdles," she said with as much casuality as she could muster. Miran tossed his head, and whinnied, "Is it windy out there? You're hair's messed up, your lips are chapped, and your ears are red." Rezniya combed her fingers through her hair and tied not to blush. He'd notice she ran home for him. "It's just a little cold, nothing to worry about," she bluffed. Miran seemed to think for a moment, pawing at the ground. "We could ride bareback," he suggested. His dewey black eyes met hers. *Continued in Notes and Credits section*