#au gold dust for sale

[cherrychilli]

18+ Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex

WC: 2.9K

A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!

One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.

It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.

The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.

But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.

"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.

"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.

"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.

Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.

~

That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.

The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.

Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.

"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.

You craved it.

You needed it.

But he doesn't come.

The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.

~

When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.

Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.

The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.

He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.

"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.

"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.

"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.

It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.

He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.

"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.

"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.

His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.

"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.

Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."

You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.

It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.

And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.

"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.

He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.

"Later."

Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.

You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.

Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.

Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.

It just doesn't feel like enough.

With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.

For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.

It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach

Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.

"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."

You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.

Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.

But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.

Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.

“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.

And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".

"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.

You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.

That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.

"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”

He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.

“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.

You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.

At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.

Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.

"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.

~

You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.

His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.

With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.

"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.

You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.

"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.

"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.

"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Slow Morning

I ended up deciding to write a tiny thing on this :3

Just for fun :D

No edit's or beta we going.

*----------------------------------*

Dust is laying in his bed. Nice and comfortable in his blanket. An old knitted one he and Ash found in a yard sale ages ago.

He sighs as he moves around a bit. His movement is limited but it is warm.

Dust relaxes as he just enjoys laying in his bed. The last job in the mansion filled up his money reserves. He had his coffee and smokes and put money aside to do groceries later.

Oh right...

He needs to actually get up and get groceries.

Ugh he just really doesn't want to.

It had been the first time in ages he had less stess the past week.

Normally Dust had to double check his accounting and money to make sure he could pay for his food and make sure at least the water kept running. The payload from the mansion job had meant he was able to actually pay his bills and pay rent again.

Getting a bit of a positive note with the landowner. Who was high beyond believe.

The guy may not be able to remember when people had to pay but he knows who paid him. Meaning as long as Dust pays him once ina while he stays in the good books with the landlord.

Dust had been sure he did everything he had to do and could just lay in bed for the day. rest more and just sleep.

Sadly.

He has to get up.

Dust groans as he tries to stretch only to find himself still limited in movements.

Oh. Right.

He slams his left and right arm both down next to him. His right arm hits his mattress. but his left arm! that one strikes gold as he feels it connect with someone.

Nightmare chuckles "Good morning."

Dsut glares at him and tugs on his arm "Stop crawling into my bed. and let go."

Nightmare looks amused at the arm he has captured against his sternum "i mean. You gave me your hand freely." he smirks as he catches his hand and kisses it.

Dust continues to glare as he tugs harder on his arm "You know very well it wasn't giving anything."

Ngihtmare hums and shrugs as he lets him go "Fair enough." and Nightmare stretches out on the mattress and Dust makes sure he isn't staring as he quickly looks for clothes before just giving up. He needs coffee before anything else.

He leaves his room and stumbles into his living room. Just some coffe... then he will get dressed and smoke before going to get groceries and-

Why does it smell delicious in here?!

Is one of his neighbors cooking?

Dust looks around and notices that his house looks... cleaner? THe windows are all open and everything has been put away and cleared. the couch has his spare blanket and pillow still on it but the blanket is folded and put to the side with the pillow on top.

Any leftover dishes are cleared from the area and the floow looks clean? dirt free at least.

Dust looks over and spots Cross's body in the kitchen. by the stove making food.

Dust blinks and wlaks over "Cross? Since when can you cook?" He knows Cross never really cooked. He always ate with the other priests and can make some sandwiches and salads but not actual food. But it can't be Killer as Dust knows Killer can't cook at all. He confirmed this as well when they were both eating dry cereal.

Cross's body pauses for a moment before looking back at him and- wait... that isn't cross?!

Cross speaks calmly "Good morning Dust. I expected you to still be asleep." he turns back to the stove "Take a seat pelase. I will have breakfast ready soon."

Dust stares in shock. "Horror?"

Horror nods as he focusses on the food "Correct."

Dsut blinks. Since when does Horror possess Cross? Wait. He looks aorund and spots Killer glaring at Horror and Cross pouting with his arms crossed. Dust blinks and looks abck at Horror "Why... why are you possessing Cross?" Horror never did that before. Said he found it disrespectful.

Horror hums as he calmly cooks "After the last mission you were tired. And with us not being able to help you with your work or getting money I got thinking. I decided you should have a calmer morning, which included not being groped all night by either Killer or waking up wiht Cross's body half humping you." Killer shouts a loud hey and pouts wiht a glare as Cross hides his fac enad mutters about his body just doing it and him being sorry.

Horror looks amused at them before he continues speaking "Especially now there was money for actual food." he turns a bit "I already went grocery shopping for you with the money you put aside for it and cleaned the living room and kitchen. Once you got your breakfast I am going to take a look at your bathroom and bedroom." and he turns back to the stove.

Holy shit.

No offense to Cross...

But holy shit Horror should possess the body more often.

Dust gives a slow nod "okay... cool... I will just... euh... Coffee..." he moves over to his coffee pot and feels ready to cry when he sees it is already filled and it seems like Horror bought the good coffee?! Oh but those are so expensive but so good. Maybe... okay maybe once... he can just enjoy the nice treat for a while. He will buy the cheaper store brand when this one is all finished. He fills his favourite mug, a mug that looks like a silly slime from some game he used to like when Ash still had his old computer to game on. Dust deeply inhales the scent of coffee and sighs happily.

He takes his mug and grabs a smoke before going towards the open window. There is a chair already ready there with an empty ashtray.

He gets comfortable as he enjoys his drink and smoke in peace.

Oh it has been so long since he last had the chance to enjoy both of these. Money had been much too tight for him to indulge himself this much but after everything? He needs this so badly.

The door of his bedroom opens and Nihtmare walks out fully dressed. He takes a moment to study everything in the room before looking amused "Interesting..." he chuckles at how angry Killer looks before he moves towards the couch. He takes a seat and takes one of the many books Dust has on supernatural things and Nightmare starts to read it.

Dust finishes his smoke and leaves the ashtray by the window as he goes get a new mug with coffee.

Ash looks smug at Killer and Cross as he berates both of them for trying to violate Dust as Dust sleeps and Dsut goes back to ignoring them.

He fills his mug and Horror hums "Food is ready."

Dust blinks "already? Okay. euh..." he looks back and realises his tiny table is already set. He takes a moment to just wander over there and take a seat. He sip his coffee and a moment later Horror walks over as he balances a few plates.

Dust feels his mouth water as he stares at the stack of pancakes. the waffles with chocolate syrup. There is even a plate with french toast.

Oh gods he is so much more hangry than he thought he was.

Horror puts down a plate for himself as well before going to his side and putting downa glass with milk and another glass with orange juice "it is important to stay hydrated. and before i forget."

Dust suddenly feels teeth against his cheek and he freezes. The silence is deafening.

It is just a soft kiss to his cheek before Horror pulls back wiht a chuckle "There is interest. But I know you are busy and stressed. I just wish for you to know. Enjoy your breakfast." and he takes his own seat to eat his meal as he happily ignores Killer and Ash shouting at him.

Dust feels his soul pulsing fast as he tries to get his mind to catch up on what just happened.

Since... since when does? why does? Horror of all people?!

Dust ends up picking up his fork and eaitng a bite. Only to feel the fodo melt in his mouth and the intent to almost knock him over.

Care. Love. Affection as a whole.

It has been so long since he last ate food with intent in it. It tastes so much better than anything he has eaten since... since forever.

He hears a snort and looks up to see Nightmare looking amused at Killer laying it into Horror for trying to steal his one true love and future mate. and that Horror has no shame for trying this.

Horror hums as he eats another bite and mutters about it not being Killer's choice and an alternative is sharing.

Dust feels his mind pause as Killer just looks thoughtful. Cross looks horribly offended and embarressed as he stresses once again that they both need to stop using Cross's body to flirt with Dust.

Dust decides to just enjoy his breakfast. He has no idea when the next chance will be to get an actualy meal with intent in it.

He just enjoys his treat and happily eats the meal. Just a moment for him to enjoy good food, nice coffee and later another smoke.

Dust is selfish. He may not deserve these things but he wants them. and so he will enjoy them.

[stories-and-chaos]

Helluva High

AU: Overlord Husk and Angel

[Little one shot inspired by @celestialalpacaron ‘s au of Husk and Angel. Valentino is a sore loser, but Husk has his spider’s back. Enjoy!

Word count 1065 Cw: cursing, emotional manipulation, trauma response (disclosure: I’ve never experienced trauma like this so I apologize if Angel’s reaction isn’t accurate.) ]

***********

Angel was frozen, stuck between fear and desire. His former boss, Valentino, was here. At Husk’s casino. Angel Dust had been working the tables for a couple months now. His looks, charisma, and reputation had him hustling patrons for all they were worth and more.

But despite that reputation (and all the salacious videos of him still being sold) he wasn’t for sale. Not for any amount of time or money. Husk was adamant on that. “You wanna sleep with someone off the clock, that’s your business,” he’d told Angel. “But do it because you want to, not because someone john is paying, got it?”

Now Val was here and Angel could barely help himself. The moth demon had grabbed his arm as he walked past. Now he was pulling the spider close, cooing sweet venomous words at the former porn star. “Angiiiiieee, I miss you baby. That mean old kitty won’t let me win you back. I need you Angel.” Val’s hand stroked up Angel’s thigh, sneaking under the slit in his gown. “I know you want me too, baby. No one can give you what you need, not like me.” One of his other hands grasped another of Angel’s arms. He hooked a finger of his fourth hand under Angel’s pearl choker, “Come on Angel, tell the kittycat to give me a shot at you. Then we can go home and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all this ever happened.”

Angel’s breath caught. Everything about Valentino made him want to just melt away. His voice, his cigarette smoke, the hands stroking his limbs with a hint of claws. But Angel didn’t want to go back. His eyes darted back and forth in panic. He caught a flash of red wings, black fur, and gold eyes. “Do it because you want to…”

“Fuck!” he managed to gasp as he jerked back. The string of pearls snapped at the sudden movement. The iridescent orbs shimmered in the light as they clattered on the table and floor. “No…” he said, voice wavering.

Angel stood up as straight as he could. Valentino’s rage at being denied built quickly. He moved to grab Angel’s arm again but Angel stepped back. “I…I need a break boss,” he said as loud as he could.

“Take the night off babe. You’ve been working hard last few nights,” Husk said curtly as he stepped between Angel and Val. “Thought you knew better than that ‘Tino.” He faced the other Overlord as Angel dashed to the elevator. “Am I gonna have to throw you out?”

“Fuck, just let me play for him again. What do you want a crackwhore like him for anyway?”

“You ain’t got anything worth betting Angel for.” Four members of the casino security turned up to flank their leader. “Get out ‘Tino. If my boys don’t have to drag your ass out, I won’t charge you for the pearls.”

Val spun away, muttering “fucking furry ass prick, that twink bitch, goddamn assholes.” He squeaked in agitation as he stormed out.

Shortly after Valentino’s limo was gone, Husk took the elevator to the penthouse suites. Angel’s door was cracked open. All his arms were wrapped around himself as rocked on the bed. Husk knocked on the door with the top of his cane. The spider demon jerked, eyes blown wide enough that Husk could see the pupils in even the six small ones.

“He’s gone,” the gambler said mildly. Angel took a deep shaky breath. “You did good.” At Angel’s surprised look he continued, “I told you, anyone fucks with you, they answer to me.”

After a couple more breaths, Angel managed to reply. “Thanks boss. I’ll be back down in five.”

“Nah, you’ve got the night off. Call for room service, just go easy on the booze tonight.” Husk didn’t leave right away; he saw Angel retreating back into the cage of his own arms. The catlike demon sighed and strode through the room to throw the doors to the balcony open. “C’mere.”

Angel walked up hesitantly and placed his ringed hand in Husk’s outstretched one. Husk pulled him out into the night air. He smoothly wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and lifted the lanky demon’s legs up with the other. Angel reflexively wrapped a set of arms around the other man’s shoulders. “Damn Whiskers, you’re stronger than you look!”

Husk gave a huff. He spread his wings and flapped into the sky. “Oh shit!” Angel yelled, now with four arms clinging to Husk.

“I gotcha babe.” He got enough altitude that they could see every part of the Pentagram with ease. “How’s this for a high?” he joked, smirking at Angel.

“Fuck…it’s a helluva view.” Angel scanned the city. His eyes locked onto Valentino’s porn studio. A tiny fuschia line was just pulling up to the street in front of it.

Husk realized where Angel was looking and shifted to block the Red Light District from view. “Nah, we’ve got better things to look at. There’s a lot more in Hell than that shitbag.”

The train of Angel’s gown fluttered in the air. The cool breeze and the sparkling city below, sounds muffled by distance, helped calm him. As the tension started to ease in his frame, Husk spoke.

“Things change quick here, especially between Overlords. You know that, with how fast ‘Tino lost you. So I ain’t gonna make promises I can’t keep. But for now, you’re mine Angel Dust, and no one fucks with what’s mine.” His gold irises gleamed as his smile turned harsh. “I don’t plan on wagering you, ever. Clear?”

Something cracked in Angel, a chip in the despair. “As crystal baby.” He sighed. “Thanks…Husk.”

A few more minutes and then Husk lowered them back to the balcony. “I need to head back down. Call room service, get some rest.” He took Angel’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Let me know how you’re feeling tomorrow.”

Angel ordered food, changing out of gown and jewelry for an oversized shirt while it was arriving. He’d ordered a bunch of finger foods, easy to eat as he lounged. But he was surprised to find his favorite cocktail added to the cart. A card written in Husk’s handwriting leaned against the stem, “Just one tonight.” He snorted before taking a sip. He was starting to like this kind of pampering.

[king-there0f]

I only just saw that @jorasdottir tagged me in this!! I love tag games like this thank u for tagging me, friend!! <3 Sorry its so late woops

First 10 songs that come on shuffle, I’m not gonna tag anyone cuz idk but if you’re looking for an excuse to play a tag game this is it. You, I’m tagging you.

I shuffled my Spotify likes but it was very evidently not a True Shuffle because it just gave me all the songs I've been listening to recently so eh

Under a readmore since this got long oops!

1) Control - Halsey And all the kids cry out “Please stop you’re scarring me” I can’t help this awful energy Goddamn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

2) Aura - Ghost and Pals I'm defined by guesswork analogies documenting daily lives Tell me I'll be alright Open-eyed, entangled in absentees Stories of a child's past Autopsied broken glass My aura shines at last

3) Bored - Tessa Violet It's 4am again You think that I could sense a trend I'm stayin' up too late Just so I can stay awake

4) The Museum - Andrew Prahlow Outer Wilds OST

5) Silver Platters - Les Gold Open up a bottle Take a sip and swallow Thinking about God and all the dreams you didn't follow Now you're dressing formal I've seen this before As you try to mitigate your fear of being normal

6) Grace for Sale - Terrance Zdunich (The Devil's Carnival OST) Once upon a time Heaven was a towered tower Tethered in it's prime Castor's Grace is sour, sour Thought the ink was dried But Hellish gardens flowered Ivy to be climbed Spread my filth, my wings, my weeds, my weeds

7) Curses - The Crane Wives Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust The Devil's after both of us Oh lay my curses all to rest Make a mercy out of me

8) Play with Fire - Sam Tinnesz Insane, inside, the danger gets me high Can't help myself, got secrets I can't tell I love the smell of gasoline I light a match to taste the heat I've always liked to play with fire

9) Comme Un Enfant - Yelle Je suis sensible au divertissement Mes gencives savent que le dentiste ment La drogue agit sur moi lentement Ah non, je suis con, c'est un Efferalgan

10) She Doesn't Sleep - Anthony Amorim She sits across the room from an old TV With just her mind she controls the screen The things she'll show you are so obscene 'Cause it makes her laugh when she makes you scream

[jedifarmerr]

Wasteland Series (Fallout AU)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC (No y/n & no physical descriptions)

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Warnings: Language, angst?, pretty tame honestly but let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

“You’re late…again.” 

Frankie smacked his lips, and checked his watch. 8:15. Almost twenty minutes, he’d been waiting, propped against the fence outside of Piper’s house. He knew he shouldn’t have let her stay the night here. 

She waved her hand, tossing away his annoyance like a bothersome gnat. “And good morning to you too.” 

Frankie’s jaw ticked at her petulance. 

This was their second day of training and already he was tempted to throw in the towel - say fuck it and crawl back into bed where the sheets were probably still warm and waiting for him. 

What would the guys say? We pulled sticks? Big deal. That wasn’t binding. 

Frankie heavily debated leaving, but he took a deep breath instead. He turned in the direction of Arturo’s then stormed off without another word. She chased after him, lagging in his dust until she caught up with him. 

In the middle of town, there was a crowd of pop-up vendors. It must’ve been Saturday. Of course, she had to peek inside every tent. Most of the stuff for sale was junk. Things people deemed unnecessary when picking around nearby apartment buildings. The only ones he found interesting and worthwhile were the ones with art - original pieces done in charcoal, watercolors, or clay. 

Frankie had to drag her away from the lady who carved figurines out of deadwood. He opened the door to Arturo’s and ushered her inside. 

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, and she certainly didn’t make it easy for him. 

The weaponry smelled of metal and gunpowder, and also cheap cologne. It was painfully masculine. Arturo had probably bought the wannabe alpha scent from Mama Murphy’s tent: the woman always claimed it was a smell that no woman could resist. 

Frankie figured Arturo wore it solely to impress her. After all, the man had flirted with her non-stop yesterday. It was nauseating. 

Arturo’s face lit up when he saw her, his grin framed with a fuzzy, black goatee. “Blue,” he purred at her. 

When Frankie had introduced her by the nickname, she shockingly didn’t correct him. She seemed to understand it was for her protection. Maybe he was being too cautious, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Hope you two aren’t back with any complaints. Remember: No Refunds. Only Store Credit.” He jabbed his thumb towards the sloppy, handmade sign on the wall.

“Trust me, I know.” Frankie sighed. Arturo appeared to still be gloating about cleaning out his pockets. 

Frankie had made the mistake of allowing her to pick out her gun. He really should’ve known better. She was pre-war, after all. People then would pay a premium for aesthetic. 

He’d realized he was fucked when Arturo brought out a gold-plated piece. Everything else in the lineup disappeared. 

“One-of-a-kind, a hidden gem for the gem of the Commonwealth.” 

Frankie wouldn’t go that far, but the gun did suit her. He’d just never say that out loud.

“No complaints here,” she beamed at Frankie. He purchased another box of ammo before heading downstairs. 

In the basement, there was a shooting range. Hardly anyone used it, aside from on Thursday’s when anyone 16 and younger could practice for free. 

Her dad had taught her the basics: stance, grip, and weight distribution. So, the main focus was on her speed and accuracy. 

Frankie leaned against the wall as she loaded her gun. From here, he had a perfect view of both her and the course. 

They started with a warm up. He turned the dial to level two and hit the start button. A dulled school bell rang out, and the roof sounded as if it would cave in when  the web of gears grinded above him as targets unfolded from the ceiling. Arturo had this thing rigged up like an old carnival skill game. The targets even mimicked the movement and patterns of different wasteland creatures. Even she had been impressed. 

By the fifth round, the room reeked of overheated metal and stale summer heat. 

She wiped the sweat off her forehead. There was a bead dripping down the center of her chest, his eyes followed. 

“Is that really all you got, Francisco?” She drew out his full name. Piper would pay for that. 

If she wanted a challenge, fine. “Not even close.” He cranked the dial to the far right and punched it.

This time, the targets zipped around the arena like a pack of pissy stingwings. She frantically shot at each one. She didn’t even hit one. Instead, her bullets pelted the back wall before rolling into a heap around the rusty drain.

She whirled around. “What the hell was that?” 

“You wanted to see what I got?” He shrugged - innocent. “Well, there ya go.” 

“That’s not fair! I wasn’t ready!” 

“Well, there’s your lesson for the day. Be ready for the unexpected.” He smirked and she wrinkled her nose. She didn’t even try to hide the annoyance on her face. “Now, you gonna keep whining or can we get back to it?” 

That seemed to irk her. She spun around in a huff, then popped her neck and rolled her shoulders back as if preparing to fight. 

“Are we gonna get to it or what?” She snapped, staring down the barrel of her gun. 

He had to hand it to her – she had tenacity. 

—

The training sessions continued. Everyday, two hours a day, just the two of them. He could tell it was paying off, her shot had vastly improved along with her speed. 

Frankie found she didn’t take directions very well. At least, not from him, which wasn’t really surprising. 

Anytime he critiqued her, she’d act like she already knew that. Or she was already doing that. Or that’s not how she was taught. Sometimes, he swore she fought back just to get a rise out of him. Once in a while, he’d catch her smirking after learning a new button of his to push. She’d slowly figured him out, and now, had him down to a science like some conditioned pigeon. 

She’d peck and peck and peck at him until he would snap and call her a brat. It didn’t faze her. She was exhausting. She could be so goddamn annoying, but he kinda liked it. He weirdly enjoyed it, this game - the push and pull. 

He was completely aware that it didn’t make any sense. And was pretty sure something was wrong with him. 

Maybe he was spending too much time with her. 

It had been over a week since they arrived in Diamond City. 

—-

One night, Piper’s curiosity finally won. She’d been burning with questions and honestly, Frankie was impressed she held out this long. Ten days. 

It was late. There were three empty growlers on the kitchen counter. Piper had one too many cups of strawberry wheat. Alcohol had always made her lips a little loose.

“You don’t have to answer me,” she prefaced before going in for the kill. “But what was it like on that day, when the bombs fell?” 

“Piper.” Frankie chastised her, jolting upright on the couch. 

He knew he was maybe being too protective of her, or more so of that. Especially since Piper knew about her nightmares. She’d brought it up with him just the other night, while alone in the kitchen. 

“Do they know about them?” Piper had asked. 

Frankie shrugged because he wasn’t sure. If they did, they never said anything. 

“Who’s Nora? She kept mumbling her name last night. I wondered-”

“I don’t know.” The name had lingered in the very back of his mind since that night. Where did she fit into all of this?

Surprisingly, Blue softly smiled at him and said, “It’s alright. Maybe it’s time I talk about it.” 

Frankie felt uneasy, but backed off anyway. She was a big girl, she could make her own choices. 

She seemed unable to look at them as she spoke. Instead, she stared at a stain on the rug and told them about the normalcy, about how it happened so fast. He could remember the few details she spared on that first day in her living room. He didn’t know about how she almost didn’t make it. 

He could not bear to think about what it was like to witness that. The trauma. 

“I knew them, and I could hear them.” Her hands trembled in her lap. Her voice sounded wet with swallowed tears. “Then - there was nothing. Nothing at all. All of it was gone. Just like that.” 

None of them knew what to say. In the long pause, Piper’s expression morphed into regret. “I’m sorry Blue. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay.” She squeezed Piper’s hand. “Like I said, it was probably time anyway.” 

—-

It was your fifteenth and final, full day in Diamond City. Or at least, that was the plan. At 3:30, you would visit Doctor Sun one last time to get up to date on vaccinations. As long as there were no side effects, you’d be heading to Sanctuary first thing tomorrow morning. 

You were going to miss it here. You were going to miss Piper and Power Noodles Pad Thai , and the halfway normalcy in your everyday life. While this might’ve been a city inside a baseball stadium after an apocalypse, it was still the closest you’d felt to normal in weeks. 

Initially, you’d been dreading training with Frankie. But in the hours spent together in the basement, you’d formed an incipient friendship. Or at least, something akin to it. A part of you was going to miss your sessions with him. Even though today was not going well. 

The targets whirled around the arena. Ping. Ping. Ping. Every shot missed their mark. Ping. Ping. Ping. The bullets pelted the back wall and it was really starting to piss you off.

Once the bell rang out and the targets retreated back into the ceiling, you slammed your gun onto the counter and your palms curled into the cold, steel edges. Your chest heaved with frustration. The sweat dripping down your back felt like hot coals digging into your skin.

Frankie had kept pushing and pushing - go quicker. Faster. 

God - you wanted to sock him in the face: Quick enough for you?

You needed to get a hold of yourself. But the deep breath you took to calm down felt like barbed wire in your chest. 

Frankie started to walk towards you, the sound of his feet against the concrete pounded against the walls. Your finger shot up, and wiggled back and forth. Don’t. 

Immediately, he came to a stop. He must’ve sensed one wrong move and you’d go berserk. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain some mental control. It didn’t work. You felt so stupid and small and like a big fucking failure. These stupid targets couldn’t even shoot back. It shouldn’t be this hard. You were so frustrated that you might cry. 

You thought about Alice, if she saw you on the verge of tears at a shooting range - what would she say? 

Pathetic. 

She’d call you a pathetic cry baby, just like she did when your pet fish died. Bubbles. She didn’t shed a tear for the five-year-old beta. 

In fact, you never saw her cry, at all. 

She was always tougher than you - always smarter and stronger and better at everything that actually mattered in this world. 

Alice was made - trained for hard and dangerous situations. Growing up, she’d decided to learn how to defend herself with taekwondo while you took dance lessons instead. Pointe shoes and pirouettes hardly seemed like an accomplishment compared to a roundhouse or a scissor kick or her 8th degree black belt. 

She had actually killed before - animals, but it was bigger than a beetle. She’d gone hunting with your dad. Now, you really wished that you would’ve too. 

You often wondered why it couldn’t be Alice that got out instead. Why, out of everyone in the vault, why did it have to be you? 

If it was Alice, she would’ve probably known what the fuck was going on. If not, she would’ve figured it out. She sure as hell wouldn’t be in Fenway Park with four men who she barely knew. About to fuck off to their settlement in less than 24 hours. 

The back of your eyes started to burn and sting like epsom salt. You hated to think about how ashamed your family would be of you. 

You’d always felt like a disappointment, the lead balloon in their bed of roses. Not so much your dad, you supposed. At least, he loved you. He’d probably blame himself for not being there to protect you from this big bad world. 

I told you, peanut. This world would crush you.

But your mom - oh, you could only imagine her face. Her indignation, her distaste, though not surprised. Never surprised. That same sour expression she gave when you denied the job at Vault-Tec. 

I knew you weren’t built for it. 

“Blue.” 

Frankie’s voice was low and almost soft and startled you from that bleak line of thinking. You tensed and could not bear to glance at him, or anywhere near his vicinity. You didn’t want him to see you like this - a weak, weepy mess. 

“Hey,” he whispered, walking towards you. His pace was slow, careful and he didn’t stop until he was right behind you. “Hey.” 

“Look, I already know, okay,” you spat - defensive. “I’m not fast enough. My GTL is a quarter inch off. You really don’t have to tell me, alright?” 

“That’s-” Frankie paused, exhaled. “That’s not what I was gonna say.” 

Your grip uncurled from the counter. “No?”

Slowly, you turned around, lifting your head to peer up at him. He didn’t appear annoyed or pissed or even judgmental. 

Instead, his umber eyes were soft as velvet.

He sighed. “You’re thinking too much.” 

Bastard. “No shit! I think that’s pretty obvious.” 

His tongue peeked out from his pink lips, telling you he wasn’t finished, yet. Reluctantly, you shut up.

He scratched at the bald patch in his beard before crossing his arms, his t-shirt stretched across the broad expanse of his chest. “Remember when you shot that bloatfly.” 

You clicked your tongue, then responded, “Yes.”

“How many shots did it take?” 

Hands on hips, you asked, “What’re you trying to get at here?” His brow hitched up, and you huffed. Fine. “Two.” 

He hummed, his head dipping into a single, firm nod. 

“I know people who’ve trained for years and take double - hell triple that. But it took two - on your first try. And you know why?” 

You shook your head. 

“Cause you didn’t have time to think.” He reached behind you to grab the gun, his knuckles brushing the denim on your hip. You watched him unclip the empty magazine and it looked so small in his palm. His fingers were thick – his hands so strong and rough and large. You licked your lips as he said, “You’re not a bad shot. You just don’t trust yourself.” 

It took a moment for his words to register. Frankie never complimented you, at least not outright. And he never said anything he didn’t actually mean. You’re not a bad shot. It sat fuzzy and warm and sweet in the pit of your belly. 

You met his gaze – realization. “Did you just-” 

“Don’t push it,” he warned you with a teensy, little smirk. 

You decided to listen and leave it.

“Try again.” He reloaded the gun before handing it to you. “And this time, don’t think so much.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Just go back to your corner.” 

He didn’t go back to his corner, though. After hitting the start button, he came just a few feet behind you. You assumed he wanted to watch from a different angle. 

The targets moved around the arena. You started off strong, like always, but started to slip once it kicked up speed. Your shoulders inched closer to your ears with each missed shot. 

Suddenly, you could hear Frankie moving closer – you could smell his soap. Fresh cut pine. Sage. Something masculine and very much him. 

“Relax.” His warm breath tickled the back of your neck. It was hard to straight think with him so close. 

His large hands engulfed your shoulders. He pressed down to release the tension and you sucked in a breath. 

Oh God – you hoped he didn’t hear that. 

Two targets zipped by that you didn’t even try to shoot. You tried to shake out of this weird daze, and aimed at the third. 

Miss. 

“Don’t think.” His voice was low and thick and rumbling over the shell of your ear. It was overwhelming. It was embarrassing. Get a grip. Your body was reacting like some touch starved virgin. 

When you took another shot, somehow it hit the target. Dumb luck. 

“That’s it.” His fingertips ghosted across the straps of your tank top, lightly brushing your shoulder blade. 

He ripped away his hand and practically scrambled backwards. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans as if you were made entirely from mud. Asshole. So maybe you were a little sweaty. Big deal. 

You swallowed a scoff and shoved the memory of his soft touch into the back of your mind. You blamed the lapse on the stuffy room, the asbestos and dust motes in the air. 

The two of you barely spoke more than a few words during the last two rounds. After leaving Arturo’s, you found Benny outside – waiting. 

“The mayor asked to see us.” Benny didn’t explain further, but Frankie seemed to understand what that meant. Will and Santi were out today with a patrol unit, helping to make sure that sinkhole you encountered on the way into the city was clear. 

“We’ll drop you off at Piper’s on the way,” Frankie said – dismissively. His gaze remained firmly glued above your head. 

“No, I think I’ll join you, but thanks.”  

He unclipped the aviators from his t-shirt and slid them on before looking at you. The muscle in his jaw tightened, flexing at your obstinance. Benny uncomfortably glanced between you. There were too many people around for him to put his foot down completely. 

This time, you weren’t being difficult for the sake of irking him. Genuinely, you wanted to see the old Vault-Tec luxury box with so many happy memories from your childhood. You didn’t want to be pissy, so you reasoned with him. 

“Listen, I just wanna see the view from up there. I promise, I’ll stay out of the way.” 

He scowled, but didn’t say no. Instead, he notched his head in the direction of the mayor’s office and you followed. 

—-

Benny watched Blue lean over the upper deck balcony as she scanned the landscape. This box easily had the best view. Benny could see all of Diamond City, the skyline was just far enough away to blur some of the destruction. Before joining her by the railing, Benny checked that the glass door was soundly shut. 

Inside, Frankie was talking with the mayor, who likely wanted an update on the vaults. He glanced behind his shoulder and caught Frankie staring at her. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw tense. He appeared conflicted. 

Benny wondered what the fuck was going on inside Frankie’s head. It had become abundantly clear to all of them that Frankie gave a shit about her. He’d gone all ape-shit, burn this place to the ground when she almost died. He had snapped at Piper for butting into her business. Even though they fought and bickered and still jabbed at each other like an old married couple, Benny wanted to call them friends. He could tell they enjoyed it – they liked it – they seemed to find it stimulating to push each other’s buttons. 

There was always this tension between them. It used to be tar-black, heavy and thick with animosity as it pulsed in the air, but recently it had morphed – it had shifted into something lighter, soft as sun-warm bronze. 

Benny looked over at her. She’d been quiet since coming out here, but not the kind of silence that worried him. She seemed almost serene, peaceful, strands of her hair swept across her face in the soft breeze. 

She caught him staring, a mischievous grin lit up her lips. “Wanna know something crazy?” 

Eagerly, he nodded. She crooked her finger – he slid closer. 

“This is where I used to sit when I came to games.” 

Benny’s stomach sank to his feet. This was Vault-Tec’s box. Despite Vault-Tec’s efforts to erase their existence, they could only do so much. During remodeling, the crew had found underneath the rubble of broken stadium seats – a small hatch. Down a ladder, through a dark, narrow hallway was a single, impermeable door, which bore an insignia: VT. 

Benny forced a smile on his face – a facade. “No shit. Really. This exact one?” 

“Well, this wasn’t like my assigned seat,” she said. “My parents worked for the same company, and this was their box.” 

The last flicker of his hope died. He could practically feel the air leave his lungs. Parents? 

She was a fucking Vault-Tec prodigy. 

A month ago, he would’ve rejoiced at the news. Now, he just felt stupid. He’d actually let himself think that she could be just some nobody. Just some rich kid with parents in tech or security or some other shit. It might’ve been wishful thinking, but goddamnit – it would’ve made things easier. 

For everybody. 

He was dreading telling her. But first, he’d have to tell the guys. Thinking about the look on Frankie's face when he found out the truth made him feel sick.

It was not gonna be good. 

[whoacanada]

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight. 

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 1

Maul x Sith!Reader 

A/N: Au where Mother Talzin gives Maul his legs back instead of cybernetics cause why not she's a God damn necromancer witch queen. Takes place after Savage and Maul are united but Maul trains Savage for a while instead of going all out right away like Canon dictates in the show.

Summary: Maul senses the presence of a force user who is strong with the dark side. Desperate for any alliance he can gain to destroy both the Sith and the Jedi he sets out to gain a second apprentice with his brother at his side.

Word Count: 3868

WARNINGS: depictions of slavery, abuse, reader is bound, violence. I’m gonna wreck canon in this series.

NEXT         MASTERLIST

      A crimson Zabrak male stood before an expansive viewport on the separatist space station he and his brother had infiltrated and overpowered. Savage, the much larger of the two brothers, grunted happily at the abundance of wealth he had found locked in a safe. Maul's stoic form didn't waver at this realization. Instead, he closed his eyes, something gnawed at him.

"Brother, what is it?"

"Can't you feel it... the anger, unaccompanied by fear. Pure, seething, white anger." His eyes opened glowing. Savage reached out into the force feeling now what his brother had referred to. "Who is that?" He questioned. Pacing back to his brother's side, examining the mountain of credits Maul hummed.

"I'm not sure but I get the feeling this will be useful to us and that we will need these credits to find out."

    Collecting their wealth, they commandeered one of the docked transports and made their way to the planet the unfamiliar force signature pulled them to. They found themselves in an independent system in the outer rim. Approaching the slaving empire on the planet of Zygerria.

"It's stronger now." Savage growled.

"That it is... I don't recognize it. It's definetly not my former master or his new apprentice."

"It’s not the nightsister who betrayed me either."

"Perhaps a new ally..?" Maul wondered. "We will need an army to accomplish our goals and with the growing number of dark force wielders it's better to have them on our side rather than against us."

Answering only with a grunt Savage watched with his brother as they drew nearer to the planet.

    They landed on a docking platform as close to the source of this reverberation as possible. The surroundings were dry; dusty tan and muted burnt red adobe structures surrounded them. The open market place was bustling with sellers and buyers of various goods from art to food, animals and of course to slaves. Maul seemed unphased buy it all but Savage looked around him in a mild bewilderment, never having seen anything like this before in his life.

    Off in the distance Maul could sense what they were searching for. He instructed his brother to inquire at a nearby weapons dealer about any newfound lightsabers and to meet him back here when he finished. Giving him a hefty handful of credits and sending him on his way after Savage nodded in understanding.

    Maul approached a slave dealer, taking in his 'inventory' until his sight fell upon a woman. She was bound with more precaution than anyone else by far. On her knees with her ankles shackled tightly to the ground. Her wrists bound behind her back, tethering her to another point of security, keeping her in the position. Rope wrapped around her form to keep her completely immobilized. She was gagged, blindfolded and had thick coverings over her ears to ensure almost complete sensory deprivation. The only things that flowed freely were her locks and her rage through the force. She ever so slightly twitched her chin up to Maul's direction.

"What are you in the market for today my friend?" The Zyggerian slaver asked with a smile, draping his arm around the Zabrack's shoulders. "I've got all around servants, navigators, mechanics, laborers and of course we have an array of exotic beauties." The man had gestured to everyone he held but the woman Maul sought.

Maul never took his eyes off of her. "I wish to see this one's eyes." His voice was calm and velvety.

"I'm sorry sir that one's not for sale. She's proving difficult to break, very feisty this one. She's only out here so I can keep an eye on her."

"If credits are your concern, understand they do not concern me. If she proves to be what I seek I will take her off your hands leaving you with one less problem and very full pockets." The Zygerrian smiled a wide devil's grin. "Well alright then."

    He readied his whip and removed her blindfold, gag and muffs. The woman squinted and silently hissed at the bright, unforgiving sun. Hardly glancing at Maul, she turned her attention towards her capture. "I'd eat you alive starting at your feet if you didn't smell like bantha shit," she spat. Scowling, he readied his whip and struck her twice sending her body into a convulsing fit from the electric shock.

    Still twitching the slaver grabbed her face and turned it towards Maul. He took a step closer and dropped onto one knee so he was eyelevel with her. Her eyes were a bright E/C but a deep gold peeked out behind her pupils like the eclipse of the sun behind a moon. They stared into each other for a full minute only blinking with the occasional spasm from the aftershocks of the whipping. Chest heaving, panting heavily. He could feel the darkness permeating from her soul with a violent intensity.

"I'll take her."

"Are you sure?" The man asked cautiously.

"What’s your price."

    After negotiating the slaver reapplied her blindfold and gag, leaving her ears uncovered. Accepting the small fortune, he unchained her and handed over her leash to her new master. Keeping an almost kind hand on her shoulder Maul guided her to the crossroads where Savage waited, eating some kind of exotic meat. The woman's head turned towards the smell, stomach growling but maintaining composure.

"Were you successful in the task I gave you Savage?"

"Yes brother, he had one and it is colored like ours. I can only imagine it belongs to her."

"Good. Let's get out of this place and get... better acquainted."

    The woman almost tripped over her chains a few times always being steadied surprisingly gently by one brother or another until the three of them boarded their ship.

    Once safely boarded and on their way back out to space Savage was the one to remove her blindfold and gag. She looked almost taken aback by the sheer size of the man in front of her. He raised his hands showing he was unarmed and turned behind him to offer her some of the food he ended up saving.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you don't try to hurt me."

    He and his brother watched as she extended her hands, still bound in front of her she took it slowly, sniffed it, sat on the floor and tore into it hungrily. Maul cut the chains from her legs with a quick swing of his saber before he crouched down to her.

"What is your name girl." That sultry voice almost soothed her. "And how did you come to be captured?"

You spoke your reply softly, your eyes met his as you licked the juices from your fingers. Seeming less feral now you continued. "I had a vision of you coming for me in the market. So, I allowed them to take me. Months I've waited for you to come for me..." you moved to your knees and bowed your head still bound at the wrists. "Master, I wish to serve and to be trained by you."

    Savage looked kind of surprised but Maul, eyes lit, looked more curious. "Who was your master before?"

"I've never had one." You answered looking back up at him. "Consider me... self-taught. When I was a child, a jedi came to my village and decided they wouldn't take me because they feared I would fall to the dark side,” smiling at the obvious irony.

"How did you come by a saber then?" He inquired further.

"A being, mostly Droid but still organic leaves his dwelling unoccupied quite frequently. He collects them so it wasn't hard to take. However, it was blue when I first obtained it."

    Maul thought for a few minutes while Savage cut the bindings around your wrists. You nodded your head in thanks.

"Why do you want me as your master?" Contemplating for a moment before you answered him.

"I can sense your power, your talent and knowledge I can also sense that you will do great things. Alter the fate of planets and great clans, that you will rain hell down on the Jedi. I wish to be a part of that. I believe I've learned all I can on my own, without a hand to guide me I have no purpose. I'm ready for one."

"Do you believe you're worthy of being my apprentice?" He paced around studying you. Covered in grime and dust, hair matted in neglect from your previous ungracious host. You chose your next words very carefully. Although truthful you could tell this was a test.

"I believe the force is strong within my spirit but I have much to learn both with my connection to it and especially with my lightsaber forms. I believe I would be incredibly lucky to call you my Master." Maul chuckled darkly and leaned down to you, teeth bared and growling.

"I will accept you as my apprentice alongside Savage. I am convinced for now that you wouldn't be foolish enough to lie to me. But if it comes to light that your intentions are different than that of which you have just confessed..." he sparked your lightsaber, red glowing on both your faces, growling "I will not hesitate to cut you down."

    You bowed your head again. "Thank you Master." Maul handed you your weapon. "Savage, set a course for Dathomir, the wilds of it, so we may assess this new apprentice." Maul strode to the back of the ship beckoning you with two fingers to follow him.

"These shall serve as your quarters for now. Be sure to scrub that filth off of you and get rid of those rags. They don't suit you. I will not have an apprentice that looks like she rolled in a gutter.”

"Yes, thank you Master." He left you to it with one last cautious glance.

      You stood in your room and took it all in. You were out of that hell hole and embarking on a new adventure. You allowed a smile to grace your face. Finally, you thought to yourself, I'm not alone anymore. Looking around your room you saw there were two bunks, the bottom being unmade and messy, assessing you will be sharing it with the larger of the two. The other apprentice. Perhaps he will be someone you could relax around. A refresher was connected to your room. Stripping out of your torn scraps, you practically moaned in relief at the hot water that rained down on your body. A knock on your door startled you. Your fellow apprentice called out to you. Noticing the glass was much too fogged for him to see anything you opened the door from where you stood with a flick of your wrist. You could just barely see the outline of his massive form carrying something black.

"Hey so we don't have any women's clothes right now but... this should work for you in the mean-time." Sensing a tone of embarrassment, you called in a soothing voice. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I'll be out soon. I look forward to training by your side." You couldn't see but he smiled when he left the room. He had his brother but it had been a long time since he had a friend.

    You lightly hopped out of the shower and dried yourself. Examining the new scars you got during your time on Zygerria. Sighing you picked up the black tunic that Savage had left for you. You looked yourself up and down in the mirror. It was awfully low-cut, reaching almost your navel but not quite. Its end reached your mid-thigh and you managed to fasten it with the belt tightly enough so your womanly features were covered well. It smelled nice.. in a musty masculine way.. You opted to let your hair fall freely without much else option.

    Hanging your saber from your belt silently swearing to never part with it again, you made your way back to the common area where you found your new Master and Savage sitting at a small table eating something that looked meaty and smelled spicy. Your mouth watered again waiting in the doorway. "Come join us apprentice, there's no need to hover." Maul called out without looking up at you. Savage flashed you a warm and toothy grin obviously excited to have a new presence.

    The only free seat was between the two, forming a triangle, around the small round table. A full plate already served for you and waiting. You didn't hesitate a second more and quickly took it. Whatever the dish was tasted incredible. Your eyes rolled as it passed your tongue.

    Maul eyed you and looked down at his own dress before shooting his brother a death glare. Realizing you were in fact wearing your master's shirt a blush dusted the tops of your ears but you stayed stoic knowing it was better than what you came in and much better than being nude.

    Savage chuckled amused "Sorry brother but we don't have anything for her and my clothes are way too big."

You interjected readying for a verbal assault at least. "I'm sure I could sew something of Savage's to fit if it would please you.." Maul raised a hand to silence you shaking his head. Once he swallowed what was in his mouth, he turned to you. "Don't waste your time, it's fine. Just caught me by surprise is all. It'll do until we can get you something of your own." He refocused on his dinner. Savage smirked just barley noticeably.

"...Thank you Master."

    After dinner Maul suggested that everyone got some rest while they could, they would arrive at Dathomir in 7 standard hours. You and Savage walked back to your shared room where he took is normal bottom bunk and you leapt up to the top. Covering yourself in the blankets an anxiety rose in your chest. After sitting in the dark in an eerie silence Savage sensed your distress.

"Are you alright? You smell... anxious."

"I expected Maul to be... harsher, cruel towards me. But he caught me from falling in the market when I was bound and blinded. He gives me a warm bed; I'm wearing his clothes for fuck’s sake. It's not what I prepared for so now I have no idea what to expect." He thought about what you said for a while.

"My brother was... well... Historically Sith have always been cruel to their apprentices but they also nurtured them and groomed them to take over Lordship when they died. His master was... not like that. I imagine his whole life was like what you dealt with on Zygerria, maybe worse. Then he was discarded and forgotten after a nearly fatal injury. I don't think he wants to be like that."

   You stayed mute while you contemplated what your fellow apprentice had told you. "I mean it's kind of unconventional taking a second student anyway, I suggest not forming any expectations so you won't be caught off guard." He paused. "Listen I uh... I'm glad you're here."

    You poked your head over the side of your bunk to look at him. Sporting a slight smile, "I'm glad I'm here too. Thank you Savage I do feel better... Goodnight."

~~~~

    Maul stared at the ceiling, laying on his back allowing his mind to wander. Hours had passed since he sent his two apprentices to bed. The thought of you wrapped in his tunic, asleep above his brother gave him a wanting feeling. Almost jealous of Savage in a confusing way. Then he thought about how you looked completely and utterly bound out in the hot sun where he had found you. Something stirred in his groin.

Stop. Control yourself. He thought.

    The thought of teaching a woman was slightly daunting to him. Although he had interacted with women in the past, he had never just had one around. Despite having an unrelenting connection to the dark side, you were uncharacteristically timid the whole evening. Much different than the one who told her slaver 'I'd eat you alive starting with your feet if you didn't smell like bantha shit' he smiled to himself.

    Savage seemed to like her. He doesn't like anyone. His brother was the one he had worried about when he discovered his to be apprentice was a female. His species didn't exactly have a 'good relationship' with their women and his brother had specifically been hurt and betrayed multiple times by them. But so far he seems to like her. Not too much, I hope. The thought of them together made him angry all of a sudden. Standing he stalked to the room you shared with the golden Zabrak. Opening the door discreetly he peered inside.

    First, he saw his brother as usual sleeping on his stomach face down snoring softly. Looking up he saw you and his breath caught in his throat. Your hair was a mess but a beautiful one. Strands draped every which way. You also slept on your stomach but faced the door Maul stood in. One leg extended the other, closer to him, hitched with your knee pulled up high. You cradled the pillow close to you. Eyebrows twitching and brow creased. She must be dreaming he thought. She really is lovely.... he frowned and shook his head. He was not going to think like that.

    Just as he was about to turn away the nav computer started beeping signaling that they were coming out of hyperspace. She was the first to stir at the sound. Slowly sitting up and rubbing her eyes she asked dreamily "Master are we here?"

"Yes, we will be landing soon. Wake Savage on your way out." He turned and made his way to the cockpit. Hearts pounding at almost being caught gazing at her.

~~~~~

    You watched in amazement out of the viewport as your master landed the ship in a small clearing in the middle of a dense forest on this strange world. You were so focused on the red sky you barely noticed Maul assuring Savage that they wouldn't be going anywhere near the nightsisters. You'd ask him who they were later. For now, you were eager to explore this peculiar land.

    Double checking that your lightsaber hung from your hip you ran out as soon as the ship settled. Fascinated with the twisted trees, dangerous looking foliage and thick humidity. The dark side of the force seemed to resonate from this planet’s very core. You could hear Maul and Savage exiting the ship and you turned your head, the gold around your pupils glowing, flashing them an almost damning smile.

"Master, what is this place?"

"Our home world of Dathomir." He answered simply.

"Your first test apprentice, is to bring me a sample of a fairly common species that dwells in these forests. Bring me a Rancor." He pulled your saber with the force from your belt and caught it in his hand. "Without this." He instructed. "You did say you've had much more practice using the force than you have had with a weapon, I wish for you to demonstrate your power. We will work with this later. When you have what I want, you must sense us to find your way back."

You bowed your head, fear clawing at your throat for the first time in a long time.

"As you wish Master. It will be done." You took off running into the woods, not wanting to waste any time. You knew what these foul beasts were, you had seen a few on Zygerria in large cases up for auction but you were confident in your abilities. You had to prove that you deserved to be his student. You had to. You'd rather die than be sent away yet again.

~~~~~

    Maul sat in a meditative state reaching out into the force to make sure his new apprentice was still alive. Savage on the other hand paced around uncomfortable both by the planet and by his brother's request.

"You didn't make me do anything like this."

Eyes still closed. "That is because you are my brother Savage and you had already proven yourself when you retrieved me from Lotho Minor. This needs to be done."

    Hours passed and though they had arrived in the morning, the sun was starting to set when giant footsteps shook the ground. A growing shadow came forward through the trees until an almost unbelievable sight was to be held. She rode atop one beast's head while another followed. One of her hands extended out to the following while the other hovered above the one she rode.

    Maul stood in shock as he watched the woman. Meeting her glowing gaze something told him she wasn't finished with her demonstration. Lowering her hands, she knelt and slapped a kiss on her steed's head. Sliding off and landing gracefully she turned to the Rancor that she had follow. Extending her arms once again she closed her eyes and started growling with effort. Blue lightning shot from her fingers with her battle cry, frying the beast until it was dead and smoking. Astonished, Maul watched her stumble back.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted it dead or alive so... I brought you both..." she fainted from the output of energy. Maul had dashed and just barely caught her before she collided with the ground. Looking up at the Rancor that still breathed he found that she had permanently tamed it as it just stood there watching them.

"Astonishing," he whispered.

Savage stared at your sleeping form in his brother's arms. "She's much more powerful than I imagined,” he whispered.

"She's the one..." Maul stated. "She will supersede us after we die and carry on the legacy, recreating and restructuring the Sith. Something new will be born from her. I can feel it." He whispered. "We must tread carefully in our teachings. She can never be cast out."

    "M...Master..." she groaned. "I'm sorry I wasn't...strong enough." Her eyelids fluttered.

"Apprentice, my first lesson to you is that you must know your limits.. What you did was incredibly advanced but has left you depleted. If this happened on a battlefield you would be dead and we can't have that now. Can we?" He ran a finger over her forehead to move the hair out of face. She nodded her head.

"I understand, thank you Master."

[peachbear88]

A Whole New World (Pt 4)

A/N: Part 4! Hopefully I can cram the rest of the series into 5 parts. So hopefully, the next one will be the last one. Hopefully.

Spoiler alert: Pietro is gay here. :) IT'S AN AU PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!

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

Genie encircles you, examining you with almost judging eyes.

"Skinny figure, barely any muscle." He prods you and you recoil.

"Hey!"

"We can make it work." He shrugs, pulling up what looks to be a flimsy notebook of materials. "I'm feeling a... Periwinkle!" You attempt to peer over his shoulder.

"What's periwinkle?" You ask, concerned as a pair of glasses and measuring tape appear.

"No! Chautrese!" He exclaims, swirling around you fast, whipping up a small cloud of dust. You cough as the dust dissipates noticing the immediate change of clothes. "No Genie! You're slipping!" He says, slapping his forehead. You do a little twirl in the sparkling blue puffy dress, gesturing to the massive black hat on your head.

"This is a big hat."

"No it's not a big hat." He snaps. "We gotta go bold n' gold!" A massive roll of golden fabric appears as he tears massive pieces of it off of the roll before wrapping you up in it. When you emerge, you find yourself wearing a thick golden suit, a cape draping off your shoulders. "Ah man! No! It clashes with your eyes! No!" He flips through his notebook again.

"This is kinda heavy..." You mutter and the genie's eyes light up.

"Yes! I've got it!" He takes a massive breath, fussing over you once again until you emerge. This time you come out wearing a sleek black suit, white dress shirt and a small golden watch. The carpet claps enthusiastically while the monkey wanders off. "And the crowd goes wild! The genie's on fire! The genie's on fire!" He exclaims into a megaphone before dropping it and zipping around the area, bright fire trailing after him everywhere he goes. "Somebody put me out! I'm too much!" He screams and a giant rain cloud appears above him, drenching him and effectively putting out the massive fire. He snaps his fingers and a tall mirror appears in front of you. "What'd you think kid?" You pose, smiling confidently.

"I like it. I think it's really me." The genie tuts as you continue staring at your reflection in the mirror.

"Well technically it's me but yeah, I get you." He scratches his neck as you tear your gaze from the mirror.

"Who am I again?" The genie avoids your gaze, still scratching the back of his neck.

"Uh Y/N Stark? Duh. The youngest of Stark Enterprises." You turn to face him, skepticism clear on your face.

"Is that a real company?" He nods vigorously.

"Oh yeah. A New York company. They've got a website and everything." You arch an eyebrow but he doesn't expand. "All right let's get you to your girl!" He exclaims, clapping his hands.

-----------

You fidget nervously at the entrance hall of the Maximoff's living quarters.

"What's taking them so long?" You mutter. Genie elbows you, making you wince.

"Relax kid, you'll do fine." The giant door swings open and your head snaps up to see Oleg, the CEO of M Towers, Loki, the COO, Pietro, the apparent heir of the business and of course, Wanda. Your jaw drops a little at the sight of her, looking flawless as ever. Genie leans over and nudges you. "Might wanna close your mouth kid." Your jaw immediately flies up so hard that you bite your upper lip. You inhale sharply as a little blood trickles down into your mouth. Ignoring the strange look from Wanda, you greet Oleg with a nervous smile.

"Welcome Ms. Stark! It is our honor to welcome you our humble abode." Oleg greets you and you do a little bow only to hear the genie snicker beside you.

"Why are you bowing?"

"I dunno, it just felt right!" You exclaim quietly, standing back up awkwardly. "Yes, it is just as great an honor to uh- Meet you eh- brilliant sir." You choke out and your face heats up at the strange glances you recieve.

"So, it is apparent you are here for one of my children's hand in marriage? Pietro perhaps?" Oleg offers and you politely decline.

"No, thank you sir. I'm actually uh- I'm actually requesting for Wanda's hand in marriage." Loki stares at you while Oleg arches an eyebrow at you. You tug nervously at your shirt collar, positively bursting from embarrassment.

"Mention the gifts." Genie whispers and you sigh in relief.

"Right! We have gifts!" After a moment of silence, you lean over to genie. "We do have gifts right?" The genie sighs before clapping loudly, startling both you and the Maximoff twins.

The glass door behind you swings open as servants march through the doorway, large platters of artifacts and more balanced on their shoulders.

"We have artifacts, money, spoons, tiny spoons! How do they make them that tiny?" You exclaim.

"Tiny spoons!" Pietro repeats, flashing you a reassuring smile which you gratefully reciprocate.

"We have jams." You point at a crate of jams in the corner.

"Jams?" Loki asks disbelievingly.

"Yes jams." You bite back snarkily. The man did push you off a cliff, it's normal to hold grudges. "Yam jams, fig jams, date jams. Seedless, exotic jams." Genie sighs.

"Step. Away. From. The. Jams." He gets out through gritted teeth.

"Jewels! We have them!" You say nervously, your hands shaking so badly you decide to hide them behind your back. "And that! Hidden for suspense!" You point at an item covered by a golden cloth. Genie lets out a sharp exhale of air. The servants pull the cloth off, revealing a golden spinning wheel.

"Is... Is that a wheel?" You hear Wanda mutter to her brother.

"It's very expensive." You reply, flashing what you hope is a suave smile at her.

"Right. And what do you hope to buy with this... expensive item?" She asks coolly, unfazed.

"You."

Pietro's head snaps up to look at you as audible gasps go around. Oleg's eyebrows furrow while Wanda just stares at you.

"Wow." Genie whispers as you slowly comprehend your mistake.

"No! No, no, no, no. A moment with you. A moment. Yeah. No. That's not what I..." You trail off, your ears turning bright red with embarrassment as the genie mimes a little explosion.

"Are you perhaps suggesting I am for sale?" Wanda quips and you melt, her pure green eyes staring right back into your e/c ones.

"Of course..." You reply, entranced by her beauty. Pietro gives you a pointed look while you correct yourself. "Not! No, of course not!" Wanda looks down at her feet while Pietro purses his lips.

"You know, it's cold and it's dark in that lamp. Honestly, I prefer it to this." Genie whispers, patting your shoulder.

"Please excuse me." Wanda says after a bit, gathering her wits. "I need to go and find some bread." Pietro cringes.

"For the jams. You did great." He flashes you a sympathetic smile before following his sister out of the room.

"You will get the chance to speak again. We hope you can join us tonight Ms. Stark, for the New Year's celebration in the gardens." Oleg sighs, exiting the room with Loki right on his tail. The moment they are gone, the genie turns to you.

"In 10,000 years, never have I ever, been this embarrassed."

-----------

The two of you make your way to the Maximoff Gardens, you tugging at the hem of your black suit jacket.

"So what do I do?" You ask as the genie dusts of his top hat and rearranges his tie.

"Just do whatever you normally do at a party." You shuffle your feet around a little.

"I, uh... I've never been to a party." He stops walking to stare at you.

"Oh no. Then you gotta go back to the room 'cause you ain't messin up this night for me." He instructs but is interrupted by a tall figure, stepping out of the shadows.

"Ms. Stark. May I have a word?" Loki asks as he eyes Genie. "Without your servant." You pause for a moment before locking eyes with Genie, who understands.

"Right. I'll just be over there, minding my business." Genie says, awkwardly pointing to a well lit corner, far away from Loki and you. Loki's eyes watch the genie thoughtfully before you clear your throat and he returns his attention to you.

"So... What do you need?" You ask cautiously, testing the waters.

"I know who you are." Loki interrupts, his cold eyes boring right through your facade. You gulp, waiting for him to continue. "You're a person of great ambition like me." He finishes, flashing you a tight-lipped smile. You almost sigh in relief, returning a polite smile.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced." You stick your hand out and he grabs it with two fingers, a look of disgust apparent on his face. "Y/N Stark of Stark Industries." His forced smile grows wider.

"Loki, COO of M Towers." He leans uncomfortably close and you take a step back. "I could be a valuable ally to get you what you want." He drawls and you gulp, remembering how the last deal you had with him went.

"That is a very generous offer but uh-" You scan the crowd. "Oh is that Ms Maximoff over there? I better not keep her waitin-" You scramble for an excuse by he grabs your arm, whirling you around, his golden scepter dangerously close to your face.

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear." The scepter gets closer and closer to your face before another pair of arms wrap around you and pulls you away. You turn to see the smiling face of the genie.

"Ms Stark? Your presence is requested." He gestures vaguely to the crowds of people, dragging you away from Loki. "So I'm guessing that's the guy?"

You nod.

"That's the guy."

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

"Alright, there's your girl. You just have to walk over there and ask to dance. Oh and it looks like her insanely attractive brother is going to get some punch! Feelin' a lil' thirsty myself." Genie whispered in your ear, readjusting his hat as you approached the center of the garden. Fear wrapped its icy hands around your heart and you froze.

"I can't do this." Genie groans and pulls your hands away from your face.

"Hey, no. Kid, this is a party." He emphasizes, gesturing to the masses of people and buffet tables. "I live in a lamp. Do not mess this up for me." He makes a threatening chopping gesture with his hands. You raise your own appendages in mock surrender.

"Alright!" Genie claps as you roll your eyes and make your way over to Wanda. You gain confidence with every step and you open your mouth to greet her but another man rushes forward, a blond one with an obnoxious smile.

"Ms Maximoff!" He says, raising his hands as if he were about to get on his knees and bow down to her. She arches an eyebrow as Pietro sighs.

"You! You're... still here." She gets out through a tight lipped smile. The blond man stands regally in a black suit with golden linings, his laugh joyful and careless. You instantly turn around, opting to sit on the side of the fountain instead of asking Wanda to dance.

"What are you doing?" Genie whispers harshly and you jump, turning around.

"I'm uh... making sure the water is a good temperature... Yeah, that's what I'm doing." You reply and he sighs, sitting down beside you. One glare is all that it takes to melt your lie. "I just... How can I compare with him?" You gesture to the blond man who's still completely oblivious to the eye-daggers he's receiving from Pietro. "He's so confident and rich and powerful an-" Genie cuts you off.

"Listen kid. You have to be more confident about what you have to offer." You scoff, watching as the blond man reluctantly leaves Wanda.

"What do I have to offer? I'm nothing but a poor kid from the streets. Now Y/N Stark, Stark has money, jewels, jams..." You trail off, looking at your hands.

"It's not about the money. You have to be yourself. That's the only way it'll work. You said you already had a connection right? So use it. Y/N Stark might've gotten you to the door but Y/N Y/L/N has to open it." He finishes, looking at you expectantly. You open your mouth to respond but your attention is caught by Oleg, who raises a toast glass your way. Smiling, you stand up, raising your own glass.

"Ah, see, Oleg does like me!" You murmur and Genie raises his glass next to you.

"Great, well maybe he'll let you be his wife."

-----------

Wanda scoffs watching you and Genie toast to her father.

"Another person more interested in Papa." Pietro leans towards her.

"Someone jealous?" He smirks as she flushes, pushing him playfully. "Ooh and she comes with an incredibly attractive friend. Please make it work." Pietro begs, his eyes trailing after Genie. Wanda stifles a laugh, watching her brother's beady eyes.

"And what about Y/N?" He sighs, placing his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently.

"Oh look at her. She's trying so hard."

"That's the problem."

-----------

You pace around the garden, avoiding Wanda at all costs with Genie trailing right behind you.

"Ooo! Show time!" Genie whispers and you shake your head, smiling.

"No, I'm waiting for the right moment." Genie smiles right back at you, wiggling his fingers.

"No, we're done waiting." You feel an invisible force tug at you and you look down to see your feet being forcibly dragged towards Wanda.

"Genie. Genie!" You whisper forcefully but he just keeps smiling until you reach Wanda. Pietro immediately notices your presence and whispers to Wanda.

"He's here! Act natural- Hahahahaha, hi!" His sentence fades off into forced laughter and an even odder greeting. You give him an odd look before clearing your throat to gain Wanda's attention.

"I'm sorry. Uh- about the jams and uh- the jewels and the uhm. The buying you." You stutter, feeling the tips of your ears heat up. A slow tune fills the garden and you tug at your shirt collar. "Would you like to-" Wanda cuts you off.

"Dance? I'd love to." You gulp as she walks off.

"Yes?" You say meekly and Pietro slaps your shoulder.

"Go get her tiger." He mimics a tiger growl and you smile queasily before taking your spot next to Wanda.

"Dance?" You mouth to Genie and he smiles reassuringly, miming a little dance with his fingers.

"Just dance." He mouths back and you give him an exasperated look. The band strikes up the music, raising it even louder and Wanda wraps her arms around your neck making you flush bright red. As if possessed, your arms fling themselves around Wanda's waist, a little forcefully. Wanda flinches and you apologize. Genie cringes, making his little finger movements a little more subtle. The two of you glide gracefully across the room with the other couples and you smile to yourself. But then the beat speeds up and you find yourself tripping over Wanda's feet a few times, muttering rushed apologies every time she winces. You find yourself gliding away from Wanda, your movements becoming more erratic as your dance moves take a more eccentric, more hip hop style. People watch you in awe, giving you wide berth as you start break dancing. Pulling yourself up, you jump onto the stone fountain, eliciting sounds of surprise from your audience. You twist around, winking at Wanda who scrunches her nose up. Twisting back around, you take a deep breath before pushing backwards into an elegant backflip. The crowd you've amassed cheers and you turn around just in time to see Wanda slipping away through the crowds of people. The smile slips off your face and you gesture exasperatedly at Genie who doesn't seem to get the message.

"Strange. Very strange." Loki mutter before turning to his loyal guard. "Keep an eye on Y/N Stark..."

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

You flop down on the soft guest bed provided to you and Genie.

"I don't get it. What did I do wrong?" You mutter as Genie lifts a massive dumbbell, his blue muscles straining.

"I mean, if I can't impress her, I wonder who can." Genie responds and you give him an annoyed look.

"Really? You know what, you actually kind of have a point." You make your way to the balcony where you can see Wanda's room lit up. "If I only I just had a few more minutes with her..." You trail off, an idea popping into your head. "You need to get me over there." The dumbbell disappears with a poof.

"Is that an official wish?" You scratch your head sheepishly.

"No. More like... a favor. For a friend." Genie tuts, turning to face the massive mirror in the room.

"Genies don't have friends." You sputter in protest.

"B-but I thought you said you never had a friend like me." He whirls around, his face becoming comically large.

"No. I said you, never had a friend like me." He returns his attention to the mirror.

"You're right. You're right. It would've involved distracting a certain charming sibling of Wanda but it's oka-" Genie zips in front of your face, a smile on his face.

"Ah! I see what you did there! You hooked me. See you there!"

----------

A soft knock comes from outside Wanda's massive bedroom. Wanda watches as Pietro opens the door, surprise clear on his face.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" He says, leaning against the doorway in an attempt to look casual. Genie clears his throat awkwardly.

"I uh... was noticing how pleasant the evening was. And I also noticed you, noticing how pleasant I am." He stutters and Pietro arches an eyebrow. Genie mentally slaps himself as he hands a bouquet of flowers to Pietro.

"Awww... They're beautiful!" Genie's face lights up. "Wanda will hate them. Tell Y/N the way to her heart is through her mind." Pietro finishes, handing the flowers back to Genie.

"Uh... These are actually to you. From me." Genie clarifies and Pietro turns bright red, snatching the flowers back.

"Sorry, give me a second." He slams the door shut in Genie's face and Genie recoils, mentally berating himself.

"'How pleasant I am?' God that kid is contagious!" Genie exclaims quietly. Inside the chamber, Pietro tosses the flower bouquet to Wanda, who catches it swiftly and gestures for him to go. He smooths his hair suavely before opening the door again.

"Continue please." Genie's face brightens.

"A stroll. Would you like to take a night stroll?" Pietro's eyes widen and Genie frantically begins to ramble. "I mean, only if you want to of course. You definitely don't have to." Pietro cuts him off by grabbing his hand.

"I'd love to." Wanda does a silent little fist pump inside her room. Pietro pokes his head back in, winking at her before Genie pulls him down the corridor. She smiles to herself before returning to her laptop.

"Wanda." She whirls around at the foreign voice to find you, standing on her balcony. A strange wave of deja vu hits her but she shakes it off, raising a throwing knife. You raise your hands, slowly walking towards her. She throws it at you and you dodge easily.

"Don't make another move. How did you get there?"

"Magic carpet?"

You continue your slow path towards her and when she finally lowers her knives, you let yourself have a small, mental celebration.

"I just came to check on you because you left so early." You mutter. "Did I go too far with the backflip?" She smirks.

"Maybe a little." You smile and she smiles back before turning back to her laptop, her friendly demeanor replaced with a colder one. "Actually, I'm glad you're here." You gulp.

"You are?"

"I can't seem to find Stark Towers. Care to show me?" Your eyes widen.

"Right! Yes." You make your way over to her desk. "Genie I need to find Stark Towers." You mutter under your breath as you pick up her laptop, swiftly turning it away from her. She raises her eyebrows skeptically but makes no move to stop you. You clear your throat. "Stark Towers!" A little genie appears on the Google Maps website, waving at you. You mouth 'Stark Towers', hoping that this little genie clone knows how to read lips. It quickly begins to paint until a small building labelled 'Fantasy Land' appears. You groan, shaking the laptop violently. A small hand places itself on the laptop, gently setting it back down on the desk.

"Have you lost your company?" You sputter under her expectant gaze before jabbing at a random spot on the screen, squeezing your eyes shut as you prepare for the worst.

"There it is." She snorts.

"I don't think that's possible. I've looked everywhere..." She falters as she examines the screen more closely.

"There it is." You repeat more confidently as she squints at the screen.

"How did I miss that..." She mutters as you gently close the laptop.

"Who needs Internet anyways? It's nothing compared to the real world." She stares at you coldly.

"Internet is how I see the world." You gawk at her sudden confession.

"Forgive me but... I thought a rich person like you could go anywhere they wanted." She smiles sadly at your naivitivity.

"Not this rich person." She turns away, staring at the elegant walls of her bedroom. An idea forms into your head and you take her hand gently, so as not to alarm her. She considers pulling away but she decides against it. You pull her towards the balcony.

"Come on, I'll show you what you're missing out on." You clamber over the glass railing and she surges forward.

"What are you doing?" You flash her a genuine smile.

"Sometimes, Wanda. Sometimes you just gotta take a risk." You hop off the balcony and she gasps, clutching her chest.

"What just happened..." She rubs her eyes as you float back up on the magic carpet. "A magic carpet?" You flash her a look that clearly reads I told you so, before offering her your hand.

"Do you trust me?" She stares at you.

"What did you say?"

"Do you trust me?" You repeat and she tentatively takes your hand.

"Yes." The two of you soar off on the carpet, zooming above the dark city Sokovia, her hand still entwined with yours.

"I can show you the world,"

"Shining, shimmering, splendid."

"Tell me, Wanda,"

"Now, when did you last let your heart decide?"

You tug at the carpet's tassels and it ascends up into the clouds.

"I can open your eyes,"

"Take you wonder by wonder,"

"Over, sideways and under,"

"On a magic carpet ride."

You fall back under the clouds and dip down, skimming the sea lightly.

"A whole new world."

"A new fantastic point of view."

"No one to tell us, "No","

"Or where to go,"

"Or say we're only dreaming."

Wanda's voice joins you in harmony. Her singing is the most beautiful thing you've ever heard, breezy and alluring. You clutch onto the carpet in fear of falling off in awe.

"A whole new world!"

"A dazzling place I never knew."

"But when I'm way up here,"

"It's crystal clear,"

"That now I'm in a whole new world with you."

She smiles at you as you squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"Unbelievable sights,"

"Indescribable feeling."

"Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling,"

"Through an endless diamond sky."

"A whole new world."

The two of you hurtle over a waterfall, the water sparkling below you like a million diamonds as she clutches your arm tightly, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Don't you dare close your eyes."

You chide and she smiles at you, her eyes twinkling.

"A hundred thousand things to see."

"I'm like a shooting star,"

"I've come so far,"

"I can't go back to where I used to be."

You soar back up into the clouds, basking in the moonlight.

"A whole new world."

"With new horizons to pursue."

"I'll chase them anywhere,"

"There's time to spare."

"Let me share this whole new world with you."

The carpet slows down, bringing you to a stop at the edge of Sokovia.

"A whole new world."

"A whole new world."

"That's where we'll be."

"That's where we'll be."

"A thrilling chase."

"A wondrous place."

"For you and me."

You stare at her, pure, unfiltered adoration clear in your eyes. In the distance, a small bit of smoke makes it's presence known as carpet glides over to it. You take off your jacket, hanging it on Wanda's shoulders, who smiles gratefully at you, leaning into your shoulder. Below you, a family lies peacefully on the grass, huddled around a modest campfire.

"They're beautiful." Wanda whispers, breaking the comfortable silence. You stare at her before she elaborates. "The people. Don't you think?" You smile, tucking a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Does it matter what I think?" Her breath hitches as she pulls away slightly. You return your attention to the people below as the gears whirr in her head.

"The view is quite beautiful here but definitely not as beautiful as your humble abode." You chuckle at her observation.

"Good one. You flatter me..." Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what you just disclosed. She turns on her spot to face you.

"So how many names do you have Ms. Y/L/N?" You sputter as she continues her verbal barrage. "Who's Ms. Stark then?"

"I am." You signal for her to calm down but she continues.

"But how would you know the city so well? And have a place in the city too?"

"I came to Sokovia early." You exclaim in the spur of the moment. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. "Because to know a people you have to see them for yourself. But you already know that. When we first met, you were disguised. In your own city!" She blushes and you gain confidence as your lie grows. "We arrived with jams, jewels and a magic carpet. Do you think a thief would have all that?" She stares at the sky thoughtfully.

"But how could I not recognize you?"

"People don't see the real you when you're royalty." You shrug, lying smoothly.

"I'm sorry. I'm embarrassed. I mean, you've seen more of Sokovia in days then I have in an entire lifetime." She takes your hand gently and you crumple.

"We should..." She looks at you expectantly. "We should probably head back."

"Already?" She regards you with sad eyes.

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

She shrugs off your jacket, handing it back to you as you help her off the carpet and back onto the balcony.

"Until tomorrow Ms. Maximoff." You whisper as the carpet lowers you to her eye level. With a jolt, the carpet pushes you off and you deftly catch the railing your nose only an inch from hers. She grabs you shirt collar, pulling you into a gentle kiss. You sigh and she smiles, pulling back.

"Good night Y/N." She whispers before gently pushing you off the balcony. You fall, landing on the carpet, who swoops you away back to your room.

"Yes."

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

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[skythealmighty]

i wanna to share my inner demons headcanons so bad but i don't know anyone who doesn't aphmau is cringe, is into mid, or is into mcyt.

p a i n .

so just give me some of your hcs if you have any pls sadfasfd.

APHMAU I HEAR?? I actually really like Aph

But let's see I'm not brring for headcanons right now BUT I am brring for Radio Souls

If you want to know, RS is an AU where four people, all from different time periods, get stuck in radios. A shadow of their former selves, they can no longer age, see, or touch. All they can do is touch and listen.

The first one is Tommy Innit, a sixteen-year-old from the 30s. He's been around the longest, simultaneously the oldest and the youngest. It's a miracle he hasn't gone insane by the time the Minecraft family find him and take him in. His radio is an old, wood-carved one, with gray faded accents. The dust hasn't all been brushed out yet, and it's clear that it's an antique.

The second to get stuck is Karl Jacobs, an eccentric man from the 50s. He had a purple suit, one-of-a-kind, and wore a monocle, making him easy to spot. He's wallowing in his sorrows when Punz and Quackity find him, fascinated by the voice in the radio. It isn't long before they get attached and become friends. His radio is a sleek black with gold accents, intricate designs littering the box.

The third is a prankster from the 70s, who wore orange to make himself stand out, named Sapnap. He loved the Beatles, and it was his only comfort until George and Dream found his radio at a garage sale, taking it home with him and quickly adjusting to the new roommate as they caught Drista talking with him. His radio is a blaring, bright orange, a simple plastic box with a black outline.

Last but not least is Connor, a simple teenager from the 90s. A jogger who loved to make jokes, the class clown, his affinity for making others laugh is probably what leads Hbomb to fish his radio out of the junkyard, calling Charlie and Drista to meet up with him, the four of them becoming quick friends. His radio is a washed-out dark blue with red lining, older than he is and likely rare.

I love this AU too much

[ellgrimm]

Sweets (OHSHC bakery AU)

He lightly dusted the rectangle of dough with fine, white flour and ran it through the sheeter one last time. Mori peeled the slightly bouncy dough off the machine bed and placed it on a tray lined with a piece of plastic film. Wrapping the film snuggly around the croissant dough, he smoothed out the indents impressed by his fingertips. He scooped the tray off the maple wood table and spun around gracefully, with habitual movement, to slip it into the fridge along with the other identical trays of dough.

With that done, he slid out of the floury work apron and traded it for a fresh one he kept tidy for sales at the front register. He washed his hands and checked for any errant streaks of flour on his face. Satisfied, Mori walked out from the fairly austere kitchen and into the world of rich woods and shining glass cases that was the customer-service side of the French patisserie shop and cafe.

Haruhi was in the middle of preparing a cup of drip coffee for a patron. Another customer just arrived at the pastry counter and stood politely, waiting to place his order. “Why don’t you see to our guest, Mori?” she asked cheerfully, as she held a gooseneck kettle and slowly circled hot water over the fresh coffee grounds, keeping an eye on the weight of water being poured. A rich, gold-black coffee dripped out the bottom of the cone filter into a ribbed glass pitcher.

Mori turned to face the pastry case and reflexively picked up a set of tongs. He performed a test click: *click*. Then he looked out over the top of the case and said in a deep and calm voice a phrase he had said at least 500 times before: “Good afternoon, what would you like today?”

But there wasn’t anyone there?

He scanned left and right.

Then he directed his gaze down and his heart skipped. A pair of enormous, caramel eyes were looking up at him from underneath a glorious mop of flaxen hair. The boy spoke, blushing a bit, in a voice that rang out clear and light, “Good afternoon! I would like one tartelettes aux fraises, please.” His French was pretty good, or at least it sounded good, Mori thought. “For here,” the boy added.

“Of course,” Mori replied, as he carefully lifted the mini tart off the ceramic tray. A glazed strawberry, sliced and fanned out over piped pastry cream, sat like a glistening red jewel. He placed it on a round plate and brought it over to the register counter. “Anything else today?” Mori asked.

“Can I… get a caffe mocha?” the charming and petite lad said reluctantly after reading through the coffee menu.

Mori caught the hesitation. “Yes, sir. How many shots of espresso?” he asked attentively.

The caramel eyes wibbled a little, damply, and he burst out suddenly “um? No shots? Please?”

Mori was relieved. Now he understood what the problem was: the menu did not list “hot chocolate.” He made a mental note that he should suggest a menu update to the manager. Making cute boys cry was already not his preference; and this boy in particular deserved the world, he immediately and definitively decided.

Mori nodded and completed the cash part of the transaction. “I will bring your strawberry mini tart and no-shots ‘caffe mocha’ to you in a minute, sir. There is a table with a nice view by that window, if you like.” He gestured to a small, round table that offered a glimpse across the street of a park with a duck pond. A coveted sight in urban Tokyo.

The boy smiled and practically floated over to the promised seat. He caught sight of a mama with her raft of ducklings zooming past and gasped with delight. Mori had to work incredibly hard to suppress a grin. It was everything he had hoped for.

Haruhi noticed. She noticed a lot of things, to be clear. Here, she was shocked and intrigued that Mori had said the longest continuous string of words than she had heard at any point over the past two years since he had started working here.

To be honest, she had been surprised when Kyoya had hired him on, considering how much talking is often involved in customer service. Kyoya, in an uncommonly forthcoming reveal into the inner workings of his mind, succinctly told Haruhi once that “diversity is a strength.”And that meant, in stark contrast to longtime coworker Tamaki’s effervescent and somewhat scattered personality, a staunchly grounded giant who is almost religious in keeping up on the daily labors of a bakery is certainly an asset.

Haruhi grabbed a silver dessert spoon and placed it and a napkin on the wooden serving tray, next to the strawberry mini tart. She winked at Mori as he finished making what was honestly a hot chocolate. He grunted softly, as if to say “hush, you.”

---

He came in every day that week. And every day he tried a different sweet pastry. As far as Mori could tell, he loved them all equally.

And Kyoya saw no objection to adding Hot Chocolate to the official cafe menu. “It’s not seasonally appropriate, but there has been an anti-caffiene health trend picking up lately,” he said decisively.

On the last day of his work week, Mori once again watched the boy leave the shop for the day. This time, the boy, busy looking at his phone, bumped into a trio of well-built, strong young men. He started to apologize for running into them, and Mori panicked a little, instinctively leaping over the counter and dashing past the other customers sitting at their tables. A blur of hyperactivity in an otherwise amazingly calm and inviting space.

And then Mori stopped, his heart beating hard.

“Haninozuka-sensei! We are so very sorry for getting in your way!” the trio barked, stiffly and respectfully bowing. Honey smiled kindly and waved them off.

“Oh, no, it was my fault entirely! I must have been busy with my own thoughts,” Haninozuka offered brightly. And after a quick exchange of pleasantries, he turned and walked up the street.

The trio lingered and talked amongst themselves. Mori tried not to listen, sort of. But he desperately needed to know more about this Haninozuka person. Their… sensei?

“Sensei was so...” Said the first one.

“I know! He’s been such a goddamn hardass at the dojo lately. I wasn’t expecting it.” The second offered.

“I was ready for him to beat us up right here on the sidewalk.” The third expressed, now relieved.

Mori was dumbfounded. This bubbly slip of a lad who giggled at baby ducks and was afraid to ask for a coffee without coffee... was apparently also a brutal martial arts teacher? He couldn’t possibly... and the name was familiar, but he couldn’t finish the thought.

Mori swam in his thoughts for a minute, completely adrift in the dissonance, before Tamaki finally caught his attention and brought him back to earth. “Mori-senpai!” he practically sang, “you left this winsome young lady before giving back her change~”

Mori’s eyes flashed and he looked back, embarrassed. “Very sorry, miss.”

“Um, well, I don’t mind!” she chirped. And she honestly hadn’t minded. He had been athletic and lithe --like an action hero-- when he vaulted himself over the counter, and it had made her think spicy thoughts she would never say aloud. Not something she had expected to experience during her trip to the nicest pastry shop in the ward, but it was a surprise she would treasure for years.

---

It was an agonizing week before Haninozuka came back into the patisserie.

Mori spent every shift that week dutifully doing his work, to the best of his ability. But his ability had degraded because a solid half of his brain was fixated on this mystery. Cute? Cruel? Sweets? Sensei? It consumed him, and he was beginning to hate himself for it. It had been much easier to do this job before he had someone he so looked forward to being around.

Then Mori caught himself. Sure, the work was easier before, when he had been habitually focused entirely on the tasks. Separating eggs. Measuring flour. Shaping butter into thick slabs. Pouring coffee and picking croissants out of the case. Even washing dishes. It had become a somewhat mindless rhythm.

But Haninozuka had made him want to come to work. It made the work feel more purposeful, somehow. It was like Mori had a specific audience in mind when he wiped tables. An audience he wanted to feel safe and comfortable and happy in his domain.

But what if Haninozuka was a bad person? Those three guys had been so sure that this was an unusual side to him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for their comments to color his idea of this boy. But he also was afraid it would be foolish to not heed their words. Surely they knew their sensei better than Mori could possibly have gotten to in a handful of hours over a few days?

But eventually, he did come back.

This time, he was escorted by the trio from before, as well as a new face. The fourth person, who had similar facial features to Haninozuka, but was a bit taller than him, also had a permanent scowl topped with a grown out bowl cut and glasses, and he was nervously eyeing Haninozuka, watching to see what he would order.

Mori was ready to push the register icon for in the hot chocolate part of the order, and jumped ahead to asking “What pastry would you like today, sir?”

Haninozuka, looking resolute, jaw clenched and without the usual gleam in his warm eyes, stated plainly “I’ll take a plain croissant and black coffee today. Thank you.” The bowl cut kid visibly relaxed a little.

Mori felt the pain in his unusually flat voice, but only nodded. “Excellent choice. Is this together or separate?”

Once he finished taking the group order, they paid and left to go sit down at a pair of tables outside on the sidewalk, well away from the previously frequented pond-viewing seat.

Mori turned to the task at hand. He brought out a set of wooden half-trays, one for each order, and selected pastries for each guest while Haruhi got to work on the drinks. Mori used the tongs to pick up the plain croissant and paused. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt so wrong.

He put it back and selected a hazelnut and chocolate ganache filled croissant instead. It looked nearly identical on the outside, especially if you weren’t paying close attention. Only a small seam with chocolate peeking through could be noticed, and even then, that was on the bottom side of the pastry.

He then turned to Haruhi and said, without room for question, “make the black coffee a hot chocolate. And put all the drinks in to-go cups.”

Haruhi smiled, and used a marker to write “black” on the paper cup that would be destined to not, in fact, have any coffee in it whatsoever. She was already thinking similarly, but had been waiting for Mori to declare it officially.

Haruhi helped Mori carry the trays of drinks and pastries out to the sidewalk tables. He carefully placed the correct one in front of Haninozuka and gave a half smile. Haninozuka barely noticed, staring dead ahead, bracing himself for what would be an absolute trial of bitter drink and plain food. She distributed napkins and utensils appropriately. They both chimed “Thank you, please enjoy,” and turned to head back inside.

“Why don’t you wipe down table 3?” prompted Haruhi, who magically produced a clean damp rag and offered it to Mori. Table 3 was inside the shop, but aside from the large pane of clear glass, was right next to the sidewalk tables. The audio was barely muffled. Mori took the cloth and singlemindedly started wiping at a table that was cerftifiably already clean.

Haninozuka tremulously started with the pastry. He nibbled cautiously at one corner. He sighed.

Mori cursed silently. “You have to take a bigger bite to get to the filling!” he thought.

Haninozuka couldn’t bring himself to try a sip of black coffee yet. He went back to the croissant. This time a luscious double whammy of chocolate and hazelnut hit his tongue. His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

Haninozuka Yasuchika, his brother, was taking a bite of his own pastry and found the kouign-amann satisfactorily salty as well as only lightly sweet. He grabbed his latte and brought it to his lips, then paused. He couldn’t help himself. Squinting suspiciously through his glasses, which light glinted off of even though they were all fully sitting in the shade, he prodded verbally “what about your black coffee, Mitsukuni-san?”

Mori kept pushing the cleaning rag over a now polished strip of an already spotless table and watched intently. “Mitsukuni” he thought to himself. “A nice name. And… I feel like I know it?”

Mitsukuni tried to not lament the inevitable ruination of his surprisingly edible, nay delicious, croissant. He reached for his cup and brought it closer. Holding his breath, so as not to overpower his sense of taste, he sipped delicately. Yasuchika grinned.

“Why it is perfectly tasty, brother! As usual, I mean.” Mitsukuni smiled, practically florid.

Yasuchika was caught between doubt and relief. His alien brother had so obviously hated giving up sweet things this past month. How could anyone go from entire cakes to once piece of (albeit very nice) plain bread? And from the most syrupy, whipped cream-bedecked drinks to black coffee? It was an unprecendented transformation. But on the other hand, Yasuchika felt accomplished. He had singlehandedly pressured his older brother to reform his ways. It was for the best, obviously. What sort of dojo is led by someone who would do anything for a chocolate bar? The lack of self control was shameful.

The other three guys were completely oblivious to the intimate details of sugary drama. They had simply thought it would be a good idea to bring their sensei to the only place they had seen him happy in recent memory, as part of a quiet campaign to improve the captain’s mood. Practice had gotten shockingly intense this past week, and, if they were to survive next week they needed their sensei to ease off a touch. Not that they could EVER say so to his face.

Mori checked that Mitsukuni was happily enjoying his hot chocolate and pastry, and that Yasuchika remained none the wiser. Satisfied, he decided the table’s newly worn hole was deep enough and turned back to his work behind the service counter. Haruhi winked and said nothing.

---

It was almost another week before Mitsukuni came back to the patisserie. Mori had been more patient this time. He felt firmly confident that Mitsukuni would find his way back when he was ready.

And his patience was rewarded, in a way.

Mitsukuni staggered in, after dark and only twenty minutes before closing. His eyes were bleary and his countenance groggy and listless. Mitsukuni, usually so sprightly and upright, dragged his bookbag on the ground and pulled up to the duck-watching table. Mori wasn’t sure what to do. Hand the man a hot chocolate as usual? Or… ask how he was doing???

Mori decided to walk over and offer some direct, compassionate human interaction. “Good evening,” he said, simply.

Mitsukuni looked up, with dark circles under his eyes.

He slammed his hand on the table, which startled Mori for but a moment, and said “I wanna shot!”

“...” said Mori.

“Of chocolate syrup, I mean. Like, a couple pumps in an espresso glass.”

Mori left and came back in an inhumanly fast turnaround with exactly that, and offered the teeny glass full of viscous sugary syrup to Mitsukuni, who promptly sucked it down and smacked the glass upside down on the table. “Another!” he garbled.

Mori didn’t remember grabbing the entire syrup bottle, but it was in his hand already. He decided not to think too hard about that and just left the entire thing on the table and walked away, back to cleaning up behind the counter for the night.

Well after the shop closed, with most of the lights off, save for the one over the register, Mori was done closing with one exception. Mitsukuni was finishing the last of the chocolate syrup. He had perked up considerably, and was now waving his arms animatedly, talking fast about his troubles.

“And Chika-chan comes up to me, and says, you know what he says?” Mori did not know. “He says that real men don’t like sweet things! He tells me I won’t be able to get any respect from my men if I keep eating midnight cakes and carrying candies in my pockets!”

Mori assumed Chika-chan must be the grumpy boy in glasses from the other day. He couldn’t say he liked him, particularly. Or, to be more precise, he didn’t like anyone who dared tell Mitsukuni that his respectability was dependent on having “appropriate” and “masculine” interests.

Mitsukuni blurted out a final exclamation of “Chika doesn’t have the balls to talk shit about Usa-chan, though!” and he… passed out.

Mori didn’t know who this Usa-chan was, but he did know that the shop was closed and that Mitsukuni needed to go home. But where was home?

He decided to try something. He looked up the name “Mitsukuni” along with the words “Bunkyo ward” and “dojo.” The search results were conveniently helpful, offering a website that encouraged serious karate students to sign up under the tutelage of Haninozuka Mitskuni.

“Oh. He is really that Haninozuka,” Mori thought to himself. Ages ago, there had been a falling out between their families. Once a close bond through fealty and eventually marriage and bloodline between the Haninozuka and the Morinozuka families, had been broken a couple generations back. The stories we still told, the wounds still fresh. Mori hadn’t even thought about them as “real” since they had become more of a background radiation to his life than a pressing influence. Until today, that is.

He grabbed the leather book bag and slung it over his shoulder, and then picked Mitsukuni up gingerly. Mitsukuni remained unconscious, a few smears of chocolate around his mouth. A legendary sugar crash.

Mori locked up the shop, without even having to put the boy down. He walked towards the Haninozuka family dojo, which was close by.

The lights were on. It was fairly quiet on the grounds. Only once voice was shouting from inside the dojo training hall as they practiced the forms.

Mori called out. “Excuse me. I have your sensei.”

A surprised face poked out. It was Yasuchika. “My… sensei? Oh, you mean my brother, Mitsukuni.” He looked suspiciously at Mori. “Who are you? What did you do to him?”

“I work at the French pastry shop up the street. I didn’t do anything, he was just very very tired.”

Mori purposefully “forgot” to mention his name. And he didn’t want to stick around to find out what Yasuchika really thought of him, especially with their families at odds.

Instead, he gently deposited Mitsukuni’s slumbering form on a training mat and put the book bag down next to him. Mori looked into his calm, round face and committed it to memory. Then he issued a quick departing bow and turned away, leaving the compound. He didn’t look back with his eyes, but a small part of him looked forward with his heart, in a complicated way.

He couldn’t shake that, despite it all, he still wanted to see this Haninozuka back at his patisserie and cafe. He walked home, tired.

[canonicallysoulmates]

🎃Halloween themed wincest fic rec🎃

This fic rec is, primarily, Halloween themed but you’ll also find some horror as well as just in general autumn themed fics all to, hopefully, get y’all in the spirit of the spooky season!

There’s all sorts of ratings, some weecest, a non-related Hocus Pocus AU, hopefully you’ll find something to your liking among all of these fics.

As always please head all warnings and tags as some of these fics do contain graphic and heavy topics. 

Happy reading, and Happy Halloween my fellow wincest shippers! 🎃

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween 

Eight-Legged Freaks. by anniespinkhouse

Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.

The Rocky Horror Sam Show by RockSaltandCherryPie *

Sam goes to a Halloween party and dresses up like Frank N. Furter but ends up looking more like a girl than anything else.

the one that lives behind his heart by Addie_D_123 *

Dean is the spark, Sam is the fire.

The Witch's Dance by brimstonegold and virtualpersonal *

It's either coincidence, or irony, but Sam and Dean find themselves hunting for a witch at The Witch's Dance, a party being given at the local haunted mansion on Halloween. What they find is not the kind of dance they expected.

hell is empty; all the little brothers are here by bellaaanovak

Dean just wants to make the rundown house they’re squatting in look cool for Halloween, but Sam isn’t so excited about strangers in corny costumes knocking on the door for candy. Not when there’s a gang of ghouls wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, anyways.

Greaspaint and Fairy Dust by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)

It’s Halloween. Sam’s least favorite holiday, and what should be the investigation of a simple salt and burn goes awry when Dean gets caught with his hand in the candy cauldron.

Here is where you’ll stay by belyste

Sam, Dean, and haunted hayride. Halloween!fic. 

A Winchester Halloween by ello_kitty *

 A short story about how the brothers spend the holiday.

Triple XY Or The Hunter, His Bitch And Their Offspring by mpregloveranon

This is the answer to this Halloween!Prompt over at the spnkink_meme. Without reveal to much already I’ll just keep the summary really short. After being cursed Sam is knocked up by his brother. On Halloween he is heavily pregnant with triplets and completely miserable. Dean feels sorry for his baby brother, especially because he pissed the witch off who cursed Sam, and takes good care of him.   Throw in raging hormones, some schmoop, some angst and cute little kids and you’ll get the idea what this fic is about. ;)

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by Ignited *

It’s Halloween, and the locals aren’t clued in to the fact that those things going bump in the night are much more than fabric and latex. Sam and Dean learn this fact the hard way as the clock winds down and a town’s about to be overrun by monsters.

The Witches of Salem by Revenant 

There's a legend in Salem, of three sisters accused and hung for the crime of witchcraft, but not before they had killed several of the local children and placed another under a terrible curse. It is said that on Hallowe'en night, when the moon is full, the witches will rise again when a virgin lights the Black Flame Candle.

A little over three hundred years later, Sam Winchester is passing through town trying out his newly awarded independence on what he suspects will be a simple salt-and-burn; why can’t things ever go like he plans?

Why not stay and be caught? by deirdre_c *

Sam wishes to go to The Palace.

Pretty Princess by orphan_account *

Sam is excited to go to a Halloween Party… And then his first heat hits.

Take a Good Look by BewareTheIdes15 *

Sam, Dean, and a haunted house with a mirror maze - sounds like pwp to me!

Kids These Days by Magz (sparklepocalypse) *

Halloween parties are never simple when there are Winchesters involved.

Thy Back to the Forest (and Thy Front to Us) by PetraPan *

For the last three years in Stillwater, Oklahoma, children have disappeared—always five young girls, always on consecutive days, and always during the week of Halloween. By the day the Winchester's pull into town, Sam is enrolled for school, he’s stuck once more on research duty, and Dean already has a date. Sam juggles his new schoolwork, the case, and the ever-growing bitterness at the desire he feels for Dean as best as he can, but at some point he can no longer manage all three. With their father constantly absent and a nasty time constraint, Sam and Dean struggle to figure out who—or what—is taking young girls, just as they struggle to find the balance between brothers and something more.

Sugar Sweet by fallingintodivinity

“What’s all this stuff?” Sam asks warily. He gingerly picks up a bottle of red fluid and squints at it.

“Fake blood!” Dean says cheerfully. “It’s cherry-flavored,” he adds helpfully.

“But why,” Sam says, bewildered.

“Dunno,” Dean says. “It was on sale. Tastes pretty good, actually. Here, lemme show you.”

Halloween by EasyTiga *

Sam and Dean go to a Halloween party for a case and at least one of them can't keep their mind on the mission because of the outfit choice.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey *

Together with his friends, Sam visits a haunted house. It's Halloween. (Sam is 16, Dean is 20.)

Halloween and High Schoolers by onesillygoose *

I'm realizing how bad my summaries are. Anyway... Sam gets invited to a Halloween party. Dean tags along. Things never go as they should for the Winchesters.

Pumpkin Patch by KissingWinchesters

It's Halloween and Dean decides to steal a giant pumpkin.

VII - One candy left by KissingWinchesters

There’s a piece of melting, sticky caramel pressed into the centre of Sam’s back.

Candy, Pumpkin Spice, And Orgasms by KissingWinchesters

Dean takes Sam to a quaint town on Halloween. Their relationship develops.

He Never Saw the Look by orphan_account

Sam's got a secret. He's in love with his big brother. Little does he know, Dean shares the same dirty little secret.

Pretty Little Thing by Miss_Lv *

Teenager Dean goes to a Halloween party for some fun, he spots a pretty little thing and chases her all evening, flirting, and eventually cornering her. Once his got his hands on her though he realizes she is actually a he, but he's fine with that. Sam snuck out after Dean just because he could, he picked a costume he knew Dean would never recognize him in. After spending the evening being chased by his brother Sam ends up in a semi public place with Dean all over him. Sam's stupid crush on his own brother is not helping matters either.

this way comes by estrella30 *

Written for spn_halloween based on prompt #127: Sam goes to a Halloween party his first year at Stanford and gets dragged off by a guy in a mask who makes out with him. He discovers it's Dean, and the making-out continues with a vengeance.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Horror

Diamond Dogs by kassidy *

Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, werewolfism - one turns and takes the other down (interpret as you will) for dark_fest LJ comm

A Silent, Creeping Killer by lily rose (annabeth) *

Not long after Dean picks Sam up from Stanford, Sam and Dean go undercover as an engaged couple to investigate the murder of a lesbian hockey player in small-town Connecticut. Along the way, they meet dedicated lovers, frightening ghosts, and the possibility that their ruse might be becoming all too real. How will they handle their changing feelings for each other? Who will protect the lovers and tenants of the Windsor boarding house? And what does all this have to do with the play 'Arsenic and Old Lace'?

darling by allwellandgood 

Dean is dead. Sam has a theory that nothing will ever hurt again.

I Wonder as I Wander by dollylux

Bobby sends Sam and Dean to investigate a strange town.

Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account *

Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Fall/Autumn themed

Death of the Petals by doctor__idiot

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic.

Where You Are [Is Where I Belong] by non_tiembo_mala

Sam is stuck in class on a beautiful fall day. His mind wanders and it always ends up on Dean.

Hazy Hunter's Moon by GhostlyVoid *

Sam saves a hunter who got attacked by a werewolf, knowing exactly what trouble he's inviting into his home. The hunter, Dean, is predictably less than thrilled owing his life to a witch.

Delicious Autumn by sammichgirl

Dean just wants to give Sam a great day full of some favorite things.

Autumn Leaves by dragonspell *

In the weak light of early morning, the autumn leaves are starting to paint the woods in reds and golds and a burning orange. On some level or another, Dean knows that it’s beautiful; he does. He's just got to find Sam first.

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; fourth part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham​ @shadoukiti @sunbyun21 @mangobaek @suhotly @pororodks @bbhbae @blahblahblah-boo @leewalberg @byunsbobobu @endzii23 @taeilpathic @jennie7​ @ainedreams​ @lylthy​

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

“Leave me alone.”

Cora opened her eyes just enough to glance at the clock and see that it was five in the morning. She wasn't going to argue, much less lose hours of sleep, so she snuggled against the upholstery of the truck –which she had entered half-asleep a few minutes earlier– and closed her eyes again. He slid his eyes down her body and snorted in resignation.

“Are you sure you don't want it?” He said as he shook and offered her the last berry flavored yogurt – despite it being his favorite. He had retrieved it from the refrigerator when he saw that she hadn’t had breakfast since they were about to embark on their next trip.

She snatched it from him and placed it in the compartment at her side. She was quick to return mulling over the events of the three previous night. Cora scanned Baekhyun's face for any trace of resentment but couldn't find it. She was too tired and sad to argue again but if she didn't reply, it would seem that she had given up and was doing what he wanted.

Cora’s days in Fraga consisted of rising early, cleaning the caravan, shopping at the market, cooking for the both of them, covering Gael's stall, attending performance, cleaning up and sleeping. Regarding Baekhyun, she had decided to speak up if she required it and to stay close when she needed help and Talia couldn't help. Although it was hard for her.

With Talia she formed a close friendship, making her the only person with whom she had opened up to most until now. She had learned that the girl came from Goa –a place in India colonized by Portuguese years ago– and that they were practically the same age. Her family had always been part of the circus, not necessarily working under  the same banner but they hailed the lifestyle as tradition. She was a hard-working girl, attentive, funny and above all, very sweet and that moved Cora to the bone.

“It's going to be tough staying here if you don't respond when spoken to, dulzura.”

“What happened three nights ago, I didn't deserve it.” 

He said nothing, and if it hadn't been for the way his lips pursed, Cora would have thought he hadn't heard her.

They continued to travel in absolute silence until, finally, Cora fell asleep. 

Lost in her dreams, she found a more comfortable position and ended up leaning on Baekhyun's shoulder. A lock of her hair fluttered in the breeze and caressed his lips. He let it play there for a while, brushing his mouth and jaw. She smelled of sweet , expensive perfume, like the scent of wildflowers in a jewelry store. 

Cora was right about what had transpired. He had been a fool but only because he was going against his current. He had never met a woman with so many contradictions. She had said he was cynical but she was wrong. Of course he had feelings but they weren't the ones she wanted. Life had taught Baekhyun that he was incapable of having them.

He told himself that he had to pay attention to the road, but he couldn't resist looking down at the warm, lean body that nestled against him. With her legs tucked up on the seat, Cora had finally lost the battle against her fussy dress and now it was raised to show the smooth curve of her inner thigh. Baekhyun's eyes fell on her thighs but he looked away, angry at himself for undergoing such torture. In his eyes, she was beautiful. He had to admit that she was not the young woman he had initially thought her to be. She possessed an unexpected and disturbing sweetness that made her seem more vulnerable than he wanted.

In the afternoon, Cora was exhausted. Only by trying her best had she been able to finish cleaning the trailer, showering, preparing something to eat, and getting to the red wagon in time to service the ticket office. It would have taken a lot longer if Baekhyun hadn't given her a hand by placing the utensils used during lunch, a surprise since he was always running back to his activities.

It was Saturday and she accidentally overheard the brief conversations of workers who came to collect their pay envelopes. Baekhyun had told her that some of the workers who set up tents and moved equipment were troublesome but low wages and poor conditions did not attract more stable employees. Some had been working in the circus for years just because they had nowhere else to go. Others were adventurers drawn to the allure of the circus world but generally no one lasted long there – perhaps even her?.

Baekhyun looked up from his desk when Cora entered the trailer. She was beginning to think a perpetual frown had been drawn onto his face.

“Today Argelia returns. I'll tell her to find you a malliot for the show. When she can help you, I'll send someone to take care of the locker.”

“Remember that I’m not an artist.”

“This is the circus, dulzura. Everyone is an artist.”

Her curiosity about the mysterious Argelia made her ignore his grin. 

“Fionn told me she was a famous aerialist.”

“She’s the last of her generation. Her family is par excellence the owner of trapeze and aerobatics. Stay as far out of her way as possible.” He paused as he got up. “Remember what I told you about the money box. Don't lose sight of it.”

“Okay.” With a sharp nod, Baekhyun disappeared. 

Cora handled the ticket sales without a hitch. The flow of people stopped as soon as the performance began, and she sat on the stairs of the trailer to enjoy the night breeze. She looked at the lights and flags that decorated the small play area of the kermesse that always accompanied the circus which, in addition to attracting children, was another way for the circus to make money. At that moment, an antique Cadillac entered the compound accompanied by a trail of dust. An exotic-looking woman with bright reddish hair stepped out in a tight top, tight rubber leggings revealing her long legs and beaded sandals. Large gold earrings gleamed in the dim light through her tousled hair and a matching pair of bangles adorned her slender wrists. As the woman made her way to the circus entrance, Cora caught a glimpse of her face: pale skin, well-defined features, and a voluptuous mouth emphasized with crimson lipstick. 

This woman was so self-assured that it was impossible for it to be a visitor. Cora knew it could only be Argelia.

Cora chatted with a customer queuing to buy tickets for the second show for a few minutes and by the time he left, Argelia had disappeared. As soon as she had dispatched everyone who came to the box office, Cora began to peruse the contents of an envelope filled with clippings from old local newspapers. Baekhyun's number with the whip was mentioned in several articles dated two years earlier and was not mentioned again until a month ago. She knew that circuses changed performances and performers moved from place to place, which made her wonder where he would have performed in the days he wasn’t traveling with today's circus.

When the first show finished, a tall young man appeared, the same one who had danced with Talia, she still didn't know his name but she knew that he was in charge of organizing the smaller tents and lighting the place.

“I’m Adal. Baekhyun sent me to take care of the box office. You have to go back to the caravan to try on a maillot.”

Thanking the messenger, she headed for the trailer. When she entered, she was surprised to see Argelia, folding the clothes she had left hanging on a makeshift clothesline. Cora felt doubly insulted: first for seeing someone with their hands on her clothes and then for being late. She wouldn’t add to those sins being rude.

“Would you like a cup of tea, maybe a soda?”

“No. I'm Argelia LeBlanc but I guess you already knew that.” Upon closer inspection, Cora noticed the circus owner was wearing more striking makeup than she would have chosen, not that it didn't suit her but combined with the clothes, somewhat provocative, and those extravagant accessories, it was clear her aesthetic had been influenced by life in the circus.

“Baekhyun likes order and he’s known to eat well. You hardly have anything in the fridge.” A deep emotion crossed Argelia's face, revulsion combined with almost palpable hostility. Instantly, Cora realized that Argelia LeBlanc would never be her friend.

“I know, I plan to do it soon. Thank you for telling me.” Argelia looked ready to pounce but Cora knew who would lose, so she pointed to the two sequin maillots on the back of the chair.

“Are those the maillots I have to try on?” The woman nodded with her head. Cora picked up the one on top and realized that it was nothing more than a sequined piece of cloth.

“I have a feeling it will cover me very little.”

“That's the idea. This is the circus. The public expects to see a good portion of skin.”

“And does it have to be mine?” Argelia watched her critically, evidently expecting her to straighten her back. But after beginning to understand how they behaved in the circus, Cora knew when not to clash in arguments. Sincerity was the only defense against experts in malice. 

She went into the bathroom and removed all of her clothes except the panties but when she put on the tiny garment she realized that the cut on her leg was so high they could be seen. She undressed again and started again. When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt like naked. Two vertical strips with blue sequins covered her breasts, and a wider horizontal strip crossed them. The body of the maillot was nothing more than a fine veil of golden net.

“I don't think I can go out with this.” She exclaimed through the door.

“Let's see…”

“It's too re–” Her words were interrupted when she saw Baekhyun leaning on the sink semi-dressed for the performance. She wanted to run back to the bathroom, and if Argelia hadn't been there, she would have. Why did he have to show up when she was dressed like that?

“Come closer so we can see you.” he said.

Cora stepped forward reluctantly. They were both silent and she had the feeling of being an intruder. Baekhyun didn't say anything, but scrutinized her in such a way that she felt naked.

“Turn around.” Argelia ordered. Cora blushing turned around again.

“It's a show for families, I don't want her to show up like this.” Baekhyun said, closing his eyes with the idea of recording the image just seen in his head, but also seeking control over himself.

“You're right. She doesn't have enough attributes to fill it out properly. Let's see if the other one suits you better.” The woman opened her leotard without warning and pulled it down, leaving Cora naked to the waist. With a gasp, she grabbed the pool of sequins and the net that had slid down her belly, but her fingers were clumsy and it was like trying to catch air. She looked at Baekhyun, who was standing with his ankles crossed and his hands resting on the counter behind her.

“God, you blush like a virgin. Haven’t you ever gotten naked in front of a man?” Argelia's lips curved into a smile.

“Enough, Argelia. Leave her alone.” Baekhyun stepped between the two women, almost as if he wanted to hide Cora's nudity, which was ridiculous, as it was from him that she wanted to hide.

“Give it to me. This one is best.” The loose sleeves of the white shirt flapped as he ripped the red sequin jersey from Argelia's hands. He looked at it and handed it to Cora with some tenderness. She grabbed her jersey and ran into the bathroom. 

When the door was closed, she leaned against it and tried to breathe normally, but her heart was pounding and her skin was burning. Finally she put onthe maillot, and was relieved to see that something more than the other covered her. The sequins of all reddish to orange, in the shape of a tongue of fire, climbed from the crotch to the bodice, where they stuck to her breasts in an irregular and jagged way. The leg openings reached almost to the waist, showing a good portion of skin. She opened the door and reluctantly left the bathroom, at least it covered her waist.

“Where is Argelia?” There was only Baekhyun, leaning on the edge of the table with his hip. Cora gulped and chewed on her lower lip.

“She had to speak to another of the employees. Turn around.”

“You were lovers, right? Was she married to the owner of the circus when you were with her?”

“Not now. Now stop gossiping and let me see you from behind.”

“Wanting to know more about you is not gossiping. I've been looking at some old newspaper clippings and I noticed that you didn't do the circus tour last year. Why?”

“So… What difference does it make? That's none of your business.” Baekhyun was the most reserved person Cora had ever met in her life and she knew she wouldn't get anything else out of him.

“I don't like this jersey. I don't like either of them.”

“You look like an artist.” Since she didn't turn around like he asked, Baekhyun got behind her. The young woman hated being exposed like that and pulled away when she felt him touch her shoulder.

“Stay still. It couldn’t be criticized even by the most conservative.” He grabbed her waist with his other hand.

Baekhyun had gotten so close that her breasts brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt when she turned to him. She shuddered. He lowered the hand he had placed on the girl's waist, sliding it along the bottom edge of the leotard and placing it on the girl's lower back, millimeters from where her buttocks began. Fiery flames shot through Cora from head to toe. She pulled back a little, not because she wanted to sneak away, but because she wanted too much to stay where she was.

“Remember what you told me.” Without taking his hand away from where it was, Baekhyun tilted his head and nuzzled her neck, warming her skin with his breath on her ear. He leaned back and she could see the amber specks gleaming in his eyes.

“Maybe I don't care too much anymore.” Cora's heart raced and she knew she couldn't have escaped even if she wanted to. He looked up and felt as if everything had vanished and there was nothing but the two of them.

Baekhyun's mouth seemed strangely tender to her despite her harsh gesture. He parted his lips and covered her gently, while at the same time, he held her even more against his body. His chest felt broad and heavy against her. When Baekhyun molded his mouth to hers, she experienced a moment of astonishment. His lips were tender and soft in contrast to the rest of her person. 

Cora offered herself to him since she couldn't do otherwise. He stroked her lower lip and brushed the tip of her tongue with his. The sensation made her feel slightly dizzy and she wrapped her arms around Baekhyun's waist, feeling the silky fabric of his shirt under her fingers, then she slid her palms down his biceps. He moaned against her mouth, then his tongue plummeted down on hers. The kiss went wild. 

Baekhyun lifted her against him and pushed her back, pulling her up onto the counter. Cora clung to his back to keep her balance. He stepped between her legs and the decorative chains on his hips dug into Cora's inner thighs. The soft feminine moan resounded like an echo in the warm masculine mouth as he felt Baekhyun's hands on the back of her neck.

“You're beautiful,” he gasped, looking at her. He began to kiss her again while his fingers tangled with the hair on the nape of her neck, making gentle strokes that didn’t stop drawing her towards him. It was too much for her. The brush of the belt jewels on her thighs, the soft caress of his hands.

“Five minutes to the show! Baekhyun!” Someone banged hard on the caravan door. 

Cora jumped off the counter like a guilty teenager and, turning her back to him, nervously adjusted her hair. She felt hot, agitated, and terribly irritated. How could she be so eager to give herself to a man who hardly ever said a kind word to her? She shot into the bathroom but stopped when she heard Baekhyun's soft, husky voice.

“We will continue later, dulzura.”

While Argelia was checking the box office and flipping through a pile of old magazines in the office, Cora sold the tickets for the second show. She did it in a mechanical way, smiling at the customers automatically. Even though she spoke non-stop, she could only think of the passionate kiss she had shared with Baekhyun and barely paid attention to what people were saying. 

She melted at the memory, but at the same time she felt ashamed. She shouldn't have given herself to him with such abandon when he had made it clear to her that she shouldn't romanticize about them. 

As soon as the music for the show's presentation stopped, Argelia left the red car without saying a word, closing the box office behind her. Cora knew that although Argelia would be indifferent, something was bothering her and she couldn't help but believe it was related to her caravan partner, much less stop thinking about what had happened between them.

As she was about to leave the locker, the phone rang and she turned to answer it.

“Circo Gran Fele, how can I help you?” Said Cora, somewhat hesitant, it was the first time anyone had called.

“With Byun Baekhyun, please” said a male voice.

“Sorry, he's not here right now.”

“Could you tell him that I called you? You already have my number. Tell him that Dr. Kim's studio is trying to contact him.”

“I'll give him the message.” She hung up and wondered who the person was as she jotted down the message for Baekhyun. There were too many things about him that Cora didn't know and to tell the truth, he didn't seem like he was going to tell her.

She heard the music that announced the start of the show, the voices of the workers moving from one side of the room to the other, and the usual sounds as they prepared to enter the dance floor. On her way to the caravan, she heard two voices arguing.

Cora noted the tone of Baekhyun’s voice, he was furious. He looked at Argelia and then at the whip that he had curled around his fist –although the woman did not seem as scared as she was– Saturday night was payday for employees and some were already drunk, so he had the whip as a deterrent. However, it was not the workers bothering him. 

The promise that Baekhyun had made to Mael LeBlanc on his deathbed caused him to have constant confrontations with his widow. Argelia LeBlanc was his employer and she was determined to put pressure on him as much as possible. But he was determined to respect Mael's wishes. It was a compromise that didn’t satisfy either of them and it was inevitable that an open war would break out between them.

The two shared a long complicated story that stretched back to the summer when Baekhyun had convinced his parents to attend a function. But everything began to get complicated when he turned fifteen and spent the holidays traveling with the Gran Fele circus. 

The aerialists Paris, like every year, were also on tour that summer and Baekhyun fell madly in love with the queen of center court, who was twenty-one at the time. He spent nights dreaming of her elegance, her beauty, her boldness. The girls he had known so far seemed like little girls compared to the delicious and unattainable Argelia Paris. In addition to feeling a certain affinity for her because they both sought perfection in their work and a will similar to hers, Argelia also possessed an egocentric streak that her father had nurtured and that Baekhyun had never had. 

Basil Paris had made Argelia believe that she was better than the others, however, the trapeze artist also had a softer and more motherly side and, although she was very young at that time, she acted as the first consolation for the other members of the group company, scolded them when they misbehaved and advised them in love affairs.

But Basil Paris had something else in mind, although Baekhyun's circus skill wasn’t as impressive as theirs he had improved over the eight years of seasons, but in Basil's eyes it wasn’t acceptable enough to become the progenitor of the next generation of aerialists Paris and Argelia had pleased her father by falling in love with another man. 

Jealousy had eaten away at Baekhyun and he had vowed to improve in all aspects of his life from then on.

Summer came to an end, and Baekhyun was preparing to go back to school. The same day that Argelia unexpectedly entered her fiancé's caravan and found him stripping one of the tightrope walkers.

He would never forget that night, when the show ended he found the girl waiting for him.

“Come with me.” It didn’t occur to him to disobey her. Argelia led him to the edge of the compound, where they ducked into a small dark space between two caravans. Baekhyun's heart began to pound at her dark, clandestine purpose as he lost himself in the musky scent of her perfume.

The trapeze artist had looked deeply into his eyes. Without saying a single word, she opened her blouse and let it fall from her arms. He had imagined something like that hundreds of times, but fantasies hadn't prepared him to touch such a body, ever.

“Kiss me.” He had shuddered with satisfaction and humiliation. Argelia had then pressed her lips against his, offering him a long, deep kiss. Then she stepped away and turned between the caravans. It was then that he realized that her fiancé had been there the entire time, watching them. The hard, triumphant gleam in her eyes told Baekhyun that she had known it at all times and the feeling caused by that betrayal was so devastating that he couldn't breathe. She didn't care about him. She had only used him for revenge.

Argelia turned again and sealed Baekhyun's lips with a kiss. He understood that cruel display of self-love, like her, he would never let someone or something threaten what he was, no matter the price he had to pay. Despite hating her for using him as a pawn, he couldn't help but respect her for it.

Argelia spent the next few years as a leading artist in the world's great circuses and didn’t tour with the Gran Fele circus until her career began to decline. By then her father had already died and she, single and childless, had become the last Paris.

Mael welcomed her back to the Gran Fele circus and set the show around her. Furthermore, in his infrequent phone conversations with Baekhyun –who had stayed by his side– he revealed enough of him, for him to deduce that Mael had a crush on her.

Baekhyun and Argelia had reunited two summers ago, and it immediately became apparent that there had been a shift in the balance of power between them. In his early twenties, he was in the prime of his manhood and had nothing left to prove, while Argelia's best years as an artist had passed.

The fire of passion crackled between them, but this time she was the one looking for him. 

Baekhyun didn't want to hurt Mael and, at first, he ignored her insinuations. However, it soon became apparent that the circus owner was resigned to the two getting involved and, with his peculiar idiosyncrasy, was offended when Baekhyun continued to snub the woman he valued above all else. Finally, Baekhyun let her into his day to day and although he appreciated her, he didn’t love her. Not anymore.

“Why haven't you gotten married?” Baekhyun asked her one night sitting at the table in the luxurious caravan, where they were preparing to enjoy the second meal of the day.

She put a plate of food in front of him and went back to the kitchen to get hers. But she didn’t return to the table. She stood still staring at the food she had prepared.

“I guess I was much too ambitious. You already know that there are things that cannot be had. I will not marry just anyone, much less without stability. Stability and lineage. It's a good combination.” She took a bite of food and put her fork back on her plate. Then she looked closely at Baekhyun, with a provocative glint in her eyes.

“You know Mael told me years ago that I shouldn't have let you get away. I’m the last of my generation and you… can start one.”

“I have no intention of starting it. I'm sorry but you'll have to look for circus lineage elsewhere.” 

He had suspected at first that such kindness had a reason but he refused to believe that he could be used as a pawn for the second time in his life.

Their fiery relationship carried on, so lustful and peaceful that he paid no attention to the increasingly possessive way she treated him or how, little by little, she began to consider him her equal. Despite the subtle changes in Argelia's behavior, he wasn’t prepared for what happened that summer afternoon in the compound, that day she confessed to him and when she did, he realized that she wasn’t speaking genuinely. 

She was determined to change his mind with the same determination she had once used to achieve the triple jump, and it was only when he was packing to leave after his last performance at the circus that she realized that he wasn’t joking. He had never lied to her. He didn’t love her and he wasn't interested in marrying her. 

When she finally took in that sharp rejection, everything Argelia believed about herself was shattered and she went mad. It was at that moment that she did the inconceivable, which she would never forgive. It was when she begged him not to leave her. She had bowed down her pride, the thing that made her who she was.

At that moment Baekhyun could see how the supposed love that she felt for him turned into hatred. A week later, Argelia married Mael, a man almost twice her age who bore no children, and he was the only one who knew why. His rejection had hurt her to the core of her being and she could only rise from her ashes by joining someone powerful to put her on a pedestal again.

↬ author’s note: Today's chapter explains a lot why Baekhyun is so reluctant to relationships, but can Cora change his mind? tell me what you think! hope you enjoy it! as you know, any feedback is welcome ♡  (as always) thank you for your help and i love you Oliv.

[thetorchwoodarchive]

do you guys have any recs with lisa?

Statement #0041708 - Future Sight by Jackdaw816 (Gen | complete | 1690 | T)

Statement of Lisa Hallett regarding a peculiar mirror found at a car boot sale

Rabbit Hole AU by NancyBrown (JackIantoLisa | series | 136, 840 | Multiple Ratings)

A loose set of fics with a central theme. After COE, one small change leads Jack into a permanent relationship with Ianto and Lisa. They raise kids, and save the world, and have a lot of sex. It's called "The Rabbit Hole" because I duck down here and play and ignore canon. Also, it's fluffy as hell.

One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night by NancyBrown (LisaIanto, LisaJack | complete | 3503 | M)

Lisa comes to Torchwood Three to find a cure for her half-Cyberconverted boyfriend.

Parallel Equilibrium by violetmessages (JackIanto, LisaIanto | complete | 11549 | T)

Torchwood Three finds itself in the possession of a box. A box that looks eerily familiar to Ianto Jones. Too bad he can't remember where he's seen it before.

Cursed Heart by FredandGeorgeLover (JackIanto, LisaIanto, EstelleJack, JackOther, OwenTosh, GwenRhys | complete | 37655 | M)

"Don't worry, I've chosen the least evil curse for you." He kept his jaws firmly closed but one wave of her wand made them stand wide open. He watched as she brought the cup to his lips and feared the worst.

Gold Dust Universe by Amand_R (JackLisaIanto | complete | 96485 | Not Rated)

You don't pick your family. They pick you.

Anywhere and Anywhen by DinoDina (LisaIanto | complete | 2768 | G)

In which a Time Lord acquires a companion and Ianto Jones acquires a girlfriend.

Return by DinoDina (JackLisaIanto | complete | 1178 | G)

Three moments of departure and three moments of return that change everything.

Starting Point by DinoDina (JackLisaIanto | complete | 3649 | T)

Now that Ianto's girlfriend has been fixed, things have changed. Jack doesn't mind - he doesn't! He's happy for Ianto and Lisa, no matter how his own pining is causing him pain.

Halfway Dead by DinoDina (LisaIanto | complete | 2838 | G)

The worst thing about being a ghost, Lisa thought, was that she couldn't do anything to keep Ianto safe. And in this apocalyptic world, that would kill him.Or: Ianto and Lisa, and The Year That Never Was.

Triptych by engagemythrusters (JackLisaIanto | Series | 18595 | T)

Pain was never negotiable. But it could be navigable, provided you had the right tools.

tarnished (but so grand) by elusive_eventuality (LisaIanto | complete | 729 | G)

The supplies at his feet seemed like meagre substitutes for Lisa's old makeup; a palm-sized eyeshadow palette (”Neutrals,” the shop assistant had said, her own eyes painted a startling shade of blue. “Always a safe bet.”), a lipstick in a reddish-brown kind of colour, and a concealer he hoped was in her shade.

Or

An explanation as to why Lisa wears makeup in Cyberwoman

The Conspirator by UltimateGryffindork (Gen | complete | 3310 | G)

Sam Hallett is determined to find out how his sister, Lisa, died while working for Torchwood.

A backstory for Sam in the Big Finish episode 'The Conspiracy', because I noticed that he and Lisa had the same surname and I couldn't help myself.

Surviving the Cut by snowdarkred (JackIantoLisa | complete | 9858 | T)

Lisa Hallett survives the Battle of Canary Wharf with her humanity intact, Ianto Jones is scarred forever, and Captain Jack Harkness is a little too fascinated by the two people sent to take over Torchwood Three.

Trade the Stars for a Single Touch by PrincessOfTheWorlds (JackIantoLisa | complete | 3644 | E)

Lisa Hallett loves her boys. Loves to spoil them, too.

[phantasyy]

Korra x Mako Aladdin AU

Mako rushed out of his house, Slamming the old wood door behind him as the dust left behind by his quick feet grazed it. He felt the weight of the gold coins in his hand. The young boy was on his way to a higher end market. See, Mako has high hopes to see the princess Korra. Korra is a skilled waterbender and he is searching to improve his bending. Mako Heard she occasionally stopped by said market, Thus him needing better clothes fit to meet her.

He sighed with relief, He’d gotten to the stand in time to purchase the clothes just in time. He picked up his pace back home so he could quickly change his clothes and move his stand to a higher end of the market. He heavily made his way into the door and headed to a private room to change.

Korra sighed. She’d been waiting for hours to leave. However she had to hop on Nagga and move quickly when no servants were around to have a watchful eye on her. The only reason this was possible was because of that insufferable Blue man, she grunted she had put on commoner attire and was ready to leave. When finally she found the right moment…

Korra eagerly looked around the bustling marketplace. She heard laughing, crying, and she had caught side-eyes of sketchy merchants.”Wow Nagga look”! She pointed at the beautiful sky with the largest grin ever. “Let’s see if we can find some jewelry or something alright”? The large mammal didn’t reply, yet the princess continued.

Korra had stopped in front of a handmade jewelers shop. Beautiful turquoise earrings were on sale! She dug through the small brown pouch she had brought and frowned as she felt the energy drop upon realizing she didn’t have money on her to purchase it

Mako had noticed the the stressed look on Korras complexion had quickly come up to relieve s stress by offering to purchase it for her“Uh excuse me! I noticed you were having issues paying so I can pay for it”! He said followed by a crooked smile. Korra let out a quick phrase “Thanks”. Mako stumbled. obviously flustered he quickly let out a breathy “yea“

Mako followed the brunette and tried to crack a few jokes with her, Korra was amused with his antics not because she found them funny. But because he was trying. He had questioned Nagga and made lots of Conversation with the young girl. Of course this led To Korra growing fond of him over the night, However it was getting dark and she hade to go home. Before she left the desperate brunette asked one last question “w-wait can I see you again”? She slighty closed her eyes and laughed “perhaps”

Sorry if it’s bad lol its my first request and I’m about to fall asleep I dont remember the plot of Aladdin exa but Naggas magical now lol this is a Drabble btw

[kookiebunnii]

duty to the kingdom || choi youngjae

→ summary: one of the things you hated the most was being looked down upon. unfortunately, as a princess, there were plenty of times where one of the royals would treat you as if you hadn’t a thought in that pretty head of yours. you absolutely despised it. imagine your outrage then, when the king picks your betrothed for you one fateful day. even if you rarely defy the king’s orders, this felt like a personal challenge to your independence and free choice. as you fight against your arranged marriage to prince youngjae, you eventually begin to wonder if your hardheadedness and anger are misplaced.  

→ pairing: prince!youngjae x princess!reader

→ genre: arranged marriage au, lots of self-reflection and fluff

→ word count: 5.4k

→ warnings: n/a

→ a/n: proud to make my 100th post about youngjae. slightly late birthday fic, but i hope y’all will continue to give him the love he deserves!

✧✧✧✧✧

The royal court is nothing if not prone to gossip. Every day, you’re forced to be in attendance despite every fiber of your being aching to be in bed instead with a good book. Not only would it be far more interesting, but you also wouldn’t have to worry so much about sitting prim and proper in front of the kingdom’s gaggle of royals.

Appearances were everything here.

Sitting beside the king, you chance a glance at him as you give up on following the topic of the current conversation. It feels like it is only yesterday that your father had laughed and played with you in the castle’s rose garden, your mother smiling through the windows as she watched the two of you. But now, his hair is streaked with grey and his face aged with wrinkles. You couldn’t remember the last time you heard his booming laugh; a rarity ever since the queen passed.

“Y/N, there is an important matter I must speak to you about.”

Not expecting him to address you like this, you hurriedly bow your head in acceptance. A soft ‘yes father’ escapes your parted lips, hoping that it does not catch the attention of any court ladies in the vicinity. They were like a fish to water with rumors, so you learned your lesson at an early age not to ever trust them with important issues.

The remainder of the discussion ends on a rather promising note, as the king gathers a lot of promising intel on his supporters’ current situations and his neighboring kingdom’s allegiances. Enduring the mindless chatter of the royal court was most definitely a chore, but it is also essential in maintaining power. The one with the most knowledge will always be one step ahead.

You rise alongside your father, watching as the owners of estates across your kingdom bow in reverence. Even if they were doing this out of fear for your father, and not you, the action motivates you to wield the same authority someday. When you are this kingdom’s ruler, you will not tolerate anything less that what your father achieves.

Following the king out of the throne room, you dismiss a servant as she rushes to follow after you. As she leaves after giving you a deep bow, you begin to feel the tingle of anticipation against your spine. You rarely held private conversations with your father, given how busy he has been managing his duties. The crops did not grow as well as anticipated this year and there have been plenty of potential threats against the kingdom, so to say he had his plate full would be an understatement.

He leads you into his study, and you take some time to briefly examine the bookshelves surrounding the room. Each row is neatly organized based on subject matter, from battle tactics to formal letter writing. There used to be an entire bookcase dedicated to children’s stories when you were young, since you loved hearing your father read to you before bed. You wonder momentarily where those books are now.

Breaking out of your stupor, you notice the king standing with his back facing to you as he observes the palace grounds from the large windows behind his desk. Closing the door behind you with a soft locking sound, you walk forward to stand beside him. The soldiers are making their rounds, following neatly divided paths leading to various areas of the palace. Their march is methodical and focused, and the rhythm is hypnotizing.

“How have you been faring?” the king finally asks, regarding you with his usual gaze.

“Well enough. The tutor has been doing great. He says I am improving very fast,” you note, pulling your eyes away from the window to meet your father’s.

“That is good to hear,” he says before adding, “You will make a great queen.”

The king’s praise is hard to come by, especially as he has grown more demanding of you as time passes. With each year, he expects you to become more informed about your role as a member of the royal family and more mature about your decision-making for the kingdom’s future. You do your best to hide your satisfaction, but it is difficult.

“Thank you, father.”

He makes a noise of affirmation before looking out the window again. You cannot pinpoint exactly what he is observing, so perhaps he is simply seeing something in his mind’s eye. The sigh that follows worries you, wondering if the news he wanted to speak to you about was actually a bad one.

“With every great ruler, is a great partner,” he states simply, and from his melancholy tone you sensed his continued sadness regarding your mother’s early death.

Your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach, you fold your hands and nod.

“I’m sure you are aware of our talks with the closest kingdom to our North. Alongside our treaty agreements to share grain stores and defend each other in the case of invasion, we have also discussed formally uniting outside of a contract.”

The puzzle pieces were slowly snapping together in your head, and the dismay traps itself within your vocal cords. You are afraid to speak, afraid that if you voiced your concerns, it meant that your father had truly used you as a bargaining chip.

“Prince Youngjae will make a good king. I’m sure the two of you will bring about a second Golden Age for our people.”

When you finally say something, the deathly monotonous sound of your words sounds like that of a stranger’s. Amid your disappointment in your father, you have become a stranger to yourself.

“No. I object to this union,” you grit, nails biting into your palm as you struggle to maintain the little power you thought you had. Yelling and crying would just expose your weakness and lose what credibility you had.

“It is not a suggestion, Y/N,” if it were possible for the king to look even more weary than he did earlier, than it surely accurately describes his current state.

“Father you cannot seriously hand me over to a complete stranger. A man I do not know, do not love.”

His silence just angers you further, as you begin to feel increasingly alone. Not only will you never be able to confide in your mother again, but now you have lost your worth to your remaining parent. If he truly wanted what’s best for you, he would not have added you to a bargain like a prized cattle for sale.

“I have done nothing but obey you, your majesty. Do not confine me to a future of unhappiness,” you warn, hoping that your anger masks the fear and hurt you feel at this development.

Instead, the man you once affectionately called father simply barks, “It is a command. The marriage will be held a month from now. I suggest you correct your attitude before then.”

You allow yourself to let the first tear fall when he finally leaves the room, leaving nothing but a swish of his robes and the loud slam of large oak doors.

✧✧✧✧✧

“You’ll sooner see me die than marry that man.”

To your servant’s credit, she does not acknowledge your angry words. Instead, she continues to help you get dressed for the day. While you continue to criticize the king for doing this to you, yourself for being too weak to defend your autonomy, and eventually your betrothed for even daring to be involved, she finally speaks.

“Your highness, you do not know if Prince Youngjae deserves the way you speak of him.”

You hesitate, acknowledging that she did bring up a good point. Arranged marriages in and of themselves are horrendous affairs in your mind, the lack of free will causing you to complete turn your nose up on the idea. The prince could be a decent individual, but he could also be a gruff man with zero awareness of your feelings. If he is anything like the dukes your father entertains daily, you would sooner escape for a life of exile than stay as a sitting duck.

“Perhaps not. But Luce, I’m being commanded to marry a man I’ve never met. Is that not, in and of itself, an injustice?” you inquire, watching as she gets on her knees to smooth out the remaining wrinkles at the hem of your dress.

When she finally stands, dusting off her apron as she does so, she gives you a small curtsy before replying, “Pardon me for my honesty, but there are far worse things in life. Perhaps for a royal, the loss of the ability to choose and make decisions for oneself is a terrible punishment. However, I advise you give the boy a chance. It is in your best interest to make this work.”

“Luce, we’ve grown up together. You’ve been my personal servant since we were both 13. You know that I cannot allow decisions affecting my future to be made for me. I have spent hours studying, confined to books when others play outside on sunny days. Am I not allowed to think for myself for a change, instead of the kingdom?” you want your closest friend to agree with you, if only to reassure you that you had a right to be outraged.

“Born to two of the king’s servants, my purpose is to serve the royal family until I die. Born to Utopia’s king and queen, your purpose is to serve Utopia’s people until your last breath,” Luce finally gives you a small smile as she pins the last gold leaf into your hair, “You will do the right thing. I know it.”

Brushing the wetness appearing in your eyes, she chastises you softly for ruining the makeup she used to try and get rid of the puffiness from yesterday’s bout of crying. You swallow thickly, thanking her for preparing you for the morning before getting ready to meet the king’s entourage for breakfast. When the door to your room opens, Luce returns to her demure position a few feet away from you, looking everything like the perfectly submissive servant castle etiquette instructs her to be.

Breakfast is a sordid ordeal. Stirring your porridge with distaste, you nibble on the freshly baked bread from the kitchens and think about your meeting with Prince Youngjae in a few hours. You originally considered openly refusing to go or disappearing conveniently as soon as you spot his carriage entering the castle walls, but after Luce’s words this morning, you’re forced to reconsider.

Picking apart the remainder of your honey bun, you realize that, regardless of whether this man assigned to you turns out to be decent person or not, you harbored no romantic feelings for him. Marrying him would then become nothing but an obligation, and you would be nothing but a task he completes for the sake of his kingdom. You did not want to share your bed with a stranger for the rest of your years, nor bear his children for the sake of duty. When would your royal duty end and your free will begin? It all seemed terrible.

When breakfast is finally removed and you have no choice but to meet the royals of the neighboring kingdom your father discussed yesterday, you regret eating that pastry. Even though you’d only had a few bites, the anxiety was causing you to grow nauseous.

Maybe if you threw up on the prince’s shoes, he’d cancel the engagement.

Hiding your smile behind a gloved hand, you do your best to keep up with the strong amble of the king before you. Servants bow at the two of you as you pass through the corridor, only continuing their work when they are out of your sight. These people depended on you completely for shelter, safety, and purpose. Luce’s earlier warning rings through your ears, and the heaviness of the responsibility of your birthright feels more stifling today than any other day.

When you enter the throne room, you notice that it looks shinier than it had yesterday. Perhaps for the sake of good first impressions, it was subjected to a thorough cleaning the night before. Your father returns to his seat on the throne, and you allow yourself to imagine yourself on that seat in a few years’ time. Would the throne feel heady with limitless power or cold with loneliness?

The seat you typically had next to the throne has been removed today, so you simply stand next to your father with your hands crossed over your abdomen. As soon as you’ve adjusted your skirts, the guards open the doors and you do your best to maintain the neutral expression on your features—regardless of who steps in through the entrance.

As the trio approaches the throne, they incline their heads in greeting to the king. Acknowledging Elysia’s king and queen, you return their gaze with a deep bow of your own. Pausing for a few long seconds, you finally straighten to immediately regard their son who was standing only a few paces away.

The first thing you notice, albeit with some shame, is that he is very good-looking. His locks are slightly tousled in a stylish way, and are as dark as his eyes that are openly observing you as well. A small smile graces his lips, a lightly pink contrast to the fairness of his skin. Briefly wondering how a man could look so calmly attractive, you only break your unabashed stare when your king speaks.

“Welcome to Utopia. The princess and I hope the travel was without issue,” your father says, giving your future in-laws their due respect.

“Elysia and Utopia have always been close neighbors. Visiting is no trouble to us,” Elysia’s king replies, and even through your first impressions, he seemed to be a kind yet commanding individual.

“We are honored to finally meet Princess Y/N, she is as lovely as they say,” the queen adds, and the way she openly beams reminds you too much of your own mother.

Heart stinging, you whisper, “You are too kind, your highness.”

The remainder of the discussion revolves mainly around the adults in the room, as you begin to feel like a toddler waiting for your parents to stop talking to the other adults. Doing everything you could to avoid looking at Prince Youngjae again, you could feel him taking short peeks at you, and it makes you oddly nervous. You wonder what his first impression of you could be.

As if that mattered. Your ultimate goal was to prevent yourself from being saddled to him.

When the conversation finally ends, you only let the sigh of relief escape when the royal family exits to have a tour of the palace grounds. Your father chuckles at your response, standing to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Was that really so frightening?”

“My duty is cementing our treaty with Elysia. I still do not consent to marriage,” you reply, looking your father in his eyes in direct challenge.

Instead of striking fear into the old man, he simply gives you an amused smile before exiting. You are left standing alone, left behind to consider your next step.

✧✧✧✧✧

Turns out, Prince Youngjae would be staying for the next month within the castle. You wondered whether Elysia was foolishly trusting or rightfully confident in simply leaving their heir in the hands of another kingdom’s rulers. As you head to your room to retire for the night, you hesitate in front of one of the best guestrooms you had to offer. The man you were to wed was inside, miles away from the home he grew up in. You wonder if he is afraid.

Settling in your favorite chair by the fire, the pages of your newest novel feeling crisp against your fingertips, you fail to notice how quickly the night moves. You reckon it is fairly late when you finally finish, setting the book on your table. You used to play chess with your mother on this table. It is well worn with age, but you couldn’t throw anything away that held essences of your time with her.

If she were here, she’d never let this happen.

Stretching out your limbs, you rub your weary eyes and wonder if the kitchen would have leftover slices of the pumpkin pie from dinner earlier. It was extremely well-made tonight, perhaps due to the need to impress, but you only confined yourself to a single slice.

Slipping on a warm shawl, you open your bedroom door slightly to examine the hallway. Empty except for the pale moonlight slipping in from the giant windows, you tiptoe against the marble floors. Even in the middle of the night, you need not see clearly to find your way. You grew up within these walls, each nook and cranny familiar in a way that you knew them like the back of your hand.

You are only a few steps from your heavenly dessert, the creaminess of this year’s pumpkin crop on the tip of your tongue, when someone’s voice stops you in your tracks. Ducking your head around the corner, you notice an unfamiliar figure sitting within a small alcove, looking up at the stars outside the vaulted glass windows.

Draped in shadows and moonlight, he sings a bittersweet song. Even though you didn’t recognize the words, you are transfixed on the intricate melodies that are holding you in place. The singer is talented for sure, given the ease of each delivered note and the sugar hanging on his clear tone. It is like nothing you have ever experienced.

When the tune ends, you’re left with a sense of unexplainable emptiness. You have half the mind to demand an encore when the figure turns his head to acknowledge you for the first time.

“Princess, what are you doing up so late?” Youngjae asks, surprise shining in his eyes as he scrambles to his feet and gives you a bow. His slightly clumsy movements are a bit endearing, as you press your shawl to your mouth to cover the smile underneath.

“Ah, you know…just having a walk,” you grimace, wondering if he’ll judge you if you were telling him you were trying to have a second helping of dessert.

“Interesting choice,” he grins.

You wave him off, hoping he understood that he didn’t need to be so formal with you. He seems to understand your insinuation immediately, because he returns to his spot in the alcove before waving you over. You hesitate, wondering if you wanted to be caught in such a compromising way.

Screw it, you needed to figure out where he learned to sing so damned well.

Tucking your skirts underneath you, you take a look at the beautifully round full moon hanging in the sky before regarding Elysia’s prince for the second time today. If it were possible for someone to look better up close, this man would be the prime candidate. His eyes are shining with stars and kindness, and in his casually neat shirt, he is the epitome of a princely figure.

“What were you singing earlier?” you ask, fiddling with a stray thread on your shawl.

He pauses for a moment, as if wondering whether he should tell you, before he answers, “An Elysian lullaby. My mother used to sing to me as a child. This one was my favorite.”

“It’s beautiful. I don’t speak Elysian but, you sing really well—better than any performer I’ve ever heard,” you admit, hoping you weren’t putting a dent in your plans by complimenting the prince.

His singing ability had to be acknowledged, so you’ll give yourself a pass for now.

He blushes, and the way he shyly laughs is adorable. Your next breath lodges in your lungs as you try your best to stop the sudden increase in heart rate you experience. Maybe you should’ve just gotten your pie and returned to your room.

“Thank you, princess. That’ll be a source of great encouragement for me,” he says, giving you another interesting look before he returns his gaze to the night outside. You wonder if he’s homesick, and you figure that he probably is. As much as you hated having to spend the next month surrounded by the reminder of your impending marriage to a stranger, he probably had his own share of trouble. He was trapped within a foreign land, with no allies to his name. Completely and utterly alone, perhaps the least you could do was make him comfortable. Even if you didn’t love him, that didn’t mean you couldn’t at least treat him respectfully.

“Have you ever performed?” you inquire suddenly, and the suggestion seems to catch him off guard.

“No, it’s unheard of for a royal to perform. That is usually reserved for the court jesters.”

You laugh, imaging the prince in a jester’s costume and telling jokes in front of the royal crowd. It was certainly a funny thought, but you were also slightly disappointed that Prince Youngjae’s singing might never be shared beyond his intimate family. It truly is a tragedy for the world, not to hear such talent.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen? In case you haven’t had enough at dinner, I’m sure there’s plenty of leftovers,” you hint, hoping that he agrees so you can have your planned pastry.

“I’m quite alright princess, thank you.”

You try not to let the disappointment appear on your face, and even though you’re typically very good at hiding your emotions, Youngjae seems to catch on immediately. When he hums in acknowledgement, you hide your face when he asks, “Did you want something princess?”

You shake your head adamantly, “I’m quite alright as well, prince.”

A grin quickly appears on his face, as he teases you further, “Are you sure? I do remember someone finishing their slice of pumpkin pie in less than 10 seconds. Perhaps we should call one of the scribes to commemorate such a prestigious record.”

“Maybe we should call the scribe to commemorate the nosiest royal to be alive this century!” you quip, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how disrespectfully you’ve spoken to Prince Youngjae. As you wonder how quickly the man would squeal to his parents, and realizing you could’ve completely ruined Utopia-Elysia relations, the sound of loud hearty laughter saves you from your thoughts.

You had thought someone had caught the two of you, but you quickly realize that the laughter is coming from the prince himself. He holds his stomach in laughter, mouth wide open as his eyes momentarily disappear with each laugh. You watch, completely mesmerized, as pure amusement pours from the boy. He suddenly seemed so much younger, laughing like this.

Beginning to giggle yourself, you quickly pressed your hands to his mouth when you see candlelight flickering in the hallway. Pulling him upright, you dash off to the bedrooms as quickly as you could without making too much noise. You hated to find what rumors would develop if the two of you were found together this late in the evening. To his credit, the prince mirrors your speed and silence all the way to the guest bedroom.

Checking to ensure you weren’t followed, you whip your head back towards him. He’s still hiding his grin behind his hand, and doing a poor job at it, when you glare at him.

“Did you really need to laugh that loudly?” you hiss, but the boy simply looks like he’s about to start laughing again.

You sigh, unable to hide how funny the situation is to you, so you just giggle and dart off with a wave. Pumpkin pie forgotten, when you finally return to the safety of your room, you stay up to stare at your ceiling. Turning over in your sheets, you wonder-- when was the last time you felt that much excitement?

✧✧✧✧✧

The next time you see him, Prince Youngjae is taking a stroll through the palace gardens. Even though the blooms aren’t as spectacular as they are in spring, your mother had chosen equally beautiful flowers that blossomed during the winter. You catch him admiring the cheerful winter jasmines lining each row, framed by snowdrop flowers. Considering whether approaching him would be the right move, you once again throw caution to the wind when Youngjae catches you staring and gives you a small wave.

“Do you have a favorite?” you ask once you’ve walked close enough for him to hear you.

“Not really,” he replies, letting go of the fallen petal in his hand, “It’s enough for me to admire the beauty each one offers.”

“Well said,” you say with a grin.

“We didn’t get your dessert that night. My apologies, princess,” he jokes, and it strikes you then that the prince is a cute but mischievous sort. He appeared to love riling you up, but only as far as you would allow him.

“Not a great first impression,” you admit, letting yourself fully appreciate his laughter now that the two of you were in a more proper environment.

Finding a place to sit and talk further, you allow yourself to acknowledge the truth that you really did enjoy this man’s presence. Even though you were holding onto the notion that you needed to prove that you weren’t just an airheaded princess waiting to be married off, perhaps under different circumstances, Youngjae could’ve been your friend. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you met a royal who wasn’t stuck-up or entitled. It seemed that this prince genuinely appreciates everything life has to offer, and he isn’t afraid of having fun with what he finds.

“Call me Y/N. I think after the trouble we went through, it seems fitting enough,” you say, once the conversation takes a short lull.

“You’ll have to call me Youngjae then,” he adds, and you show your agreement by repeating the new title he offers you. He seems to like the way it sounds on your tongue, because his eyes are aglow with delight.

“Do you miss home?” you ask afterwards, curious to see how your new friend is faring.

“Definitely. No matter how many times I’ve left Elysia, I always miss it with the same fervor,” he admits, and you appreciate the way he opens up to you. It was almost as if he were unafraid of appearances in front of you, and his abrupt honesty was completely foreign to you.

“You leave often then?”

“A few instances. I’ve had to be involved in some skirmishes at our borders recently,” he sighs, and it appears that Youngjae is also not a big fan of warfare. You note that as well, realizing how much you were growing to admire each of the characteristics of this new prince.

“I suppose that’s why all of this is happening…making alliances to appear strong,” you briefly relent, acknowledging that as much as this union would hurt your pride, it had its use. It was not a frivolous decision for either part, which only made your choice that much more difficult to execute.

“If it’s to protect my people, it’s a sacrifice to make,” he agrees, “I apologize that you will not be marrying for love, Y/N, but I promise I’ll do my best to not make it torturous.”

He tacks on a joke at the end to ease the tension, but it doesn’t hide the fact that his words make your heart waver. Youngjae recognizes what you were giving up and he sympathizes with you. Unlike you, however, he was accepting his fate. Even though he doesn’t mention it, you know that he is giving up his free will as well by agreeing to marry you. He would also be closing the door of “what if?” because he cared for the citizens under his protection.

You think back to the servants who never fail to curtsy in your presence, the cooks who always let you have a taste of whatever’s cooking because they didn’t stand a chance to your puppy-dog eyes, and your closest friend Luce who always takes care of you without a complaint. You remember how her worn hands glide across your skin with the finest skincare in the land, just to ensure that your skin stays youthful at the expense of hers. Your heart pounds with pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, as you struggle not to cry in front of Youngjae.

He grasps your wrist in confusion, worried eyes seeking yours when he says, “Did I say something wrong?”

You pat the back of his hand and try to smile amidst your guilt. Nodding slowly, you say, “I thought that I deserved to fight against this marriage because without my autonomy, I’d be nothing. But your words, you made me realize that perhaps there are greater things.”

He looks at you with the utmost care and sympathy when he replies, “Agreeing to this doesn’t make you weak, Y/N. You will be the strongest queen Utopia has known because you sacrifice for your people.”

When he hugs you in a much-needed, warm embrace, you don’t stop him.

✧✧✧✧✧

The month passes by in the blink of an eye, and before long, you’ve let Youngjae into your life more than you’d like to admit. The boy made you much more playful, as you began skipping some of your studying to join him in playing outside. He seemed like an energetic individual, always wearing a smile and excited to see you. You did your best to keep your distance, but ever since he opened up to you it almost felt natural to do the same.

The day of the wedding rolls around, and even as Luce and a few other servants help you get dressed for the special occasion; you can’t help but doubt whether you were making the right decision. Of course, there would be worse men to be in an arranged marriage with, but ultimately this was a choice that would stick by your side for the rest of your reign. You shouldn’t tread lightly.

“Luce…” you mumble as soon as the other girls leave to let her braid your hair in an elegant bun in peace.

“Today is a special day in your life your highness…your life and Prince Youngjae’s,” Luce begins, giving you her reassuring smile as she braids silver flowers into your braid.

“I know that, I know this is important for our kingdoms, and yet I feel afraid.”

“Fear is understandable. It’s important to fear because it will push you to act. You are not just making a decision for yourself, but for thousands of people,” she finishes with your locks before finally giving your shaking hands a squeeze, “You have never let us down.”

You give Luce a grateful hug, thankful for her comforting words. When you stand, admiring the long train behind you, the reality of everything begins hitting you all at once. You were marrying Youngjae, the man that recently makes your stomach burst with butterflies and your palms sweaty just from looking at him. You were crazy enough to think that you could eventually love him, and you hoped to the heavens that he considered you in the same way.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I wouldn’t worry,” Luce muses before opening the door as your entourage stands at the ready outside. You would fire back at her to say that you weren’t worried at all, but the sight of the dozen knights standing in full armor to escort you to the grand ballroom is enough to dry your mouth completely.

You knew that the ballroom would be transformed for the wedding, but you didn’t expect the beauty dazzling from the high ceilings. Each corner had a fresh bouquet, the beautiful pastel roses making your eyes widen with wonder. The guests consisted of the royals whom previously paid you no heed, but now are openly observing you with interest. You knew that they now respect your new position, and you would soon have to play palace politics. The dread paled in comparison to the surprise that catches in your throat when you see the groom standing at the altar.

Youngjae is dressed in a standard princely attire, but the sparkling crown atop his head and the big grin on his face make all the difference. Seeing him standing ahead of you, waiting for you to be by his side, force you to reconcile with your feelings once again. You were falling for him, from the moment he sang you his favorite song and laughed without a care in the world, you were smitten. He not only acknowledged your fears but reassured you through them, and for that, he was more than deserving to rule alongside you.

“Ready?” he whispers after receiving your hand from your father.

With one look at his deep brown eyes swirling with affection, you announce proudly, “I’m ready.”

✧

[mochikeiji]

Just Say Yes

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji

↠ Warning: Royal AU! Slight nsfw mentioned, angst to fluff, mention of death, Songfic! Love Story by: Taylor Swift

↬ Word Count: 2,235

Summary: In between saving your own kingdom and throwing away your freedom, wouldn't you rather run away and be free like all the birds you see fly from your window up in a palace? Would you dare take another's hand as they lead you to another chapter of your life? Or would you stay forever held against your will as young prince Akaashi Keiji?

⇢ Day 9: Royal AU @bokuakaweek2020

✎﹏

Being the only son meant a lot of responsibilities. Whether you grew up from the villages or up in the palace, it was always like that for the eldest and only child.

"You are to be married next week, Akaashi. Your bride is a true gem and will serve as our palace and cities security."

What more can be shouldered in the stoic males shoulder than being his own father's pawn to his own game.

Nothing truly mattered to the king other than his own entitlement and grounds. Having to force his own son take on more and more duties and him to sit down and watch as things unfolf according to his desire.

"I refuse, father. I do not want to single handedly marry someone whom I have never encountered nor have developed such feelings with. It is unfair."

If only his mother were here, she would've said the same thing to her husband. But upon the death of the kingdom's queen casted a dark void to their king. Leaving the poor prince to be his only way of letting all emotions out on such reckless demands.

"You will do as you are told. This is for the good of our people and our kingdom standing. Do you want to see all this fall out of your own selfish desire?"

Had his father have the nerve to talk about such topic.

A true hypocrite.

"No father."

"Then you are dismissed."

Despite the sadness now slowly forming into a dam that is yet to crack, Akaashi held his head high as he passes by the royal guards, bowing before him as he made his way up to his room, walking a bit faster as to know he was a ticking bomb.

When he shuts the wooden door behind him, he slouches down against it, unable to bottle up all the pent emotions years had held.

How he truly wishes he could trade anything to have his mother here holding him in her arms again. But he knows that not even the amount of golds and diamonds are enough to bring the dead back.

He lets his tear fall from the silver object that was wrapped around his finger. A cheap knock off ring that was on sale from the village not too long ago.

Recalling the time he had snuck out that night of an event held inside the palace. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed from the surrounding of those who wished to have their boots kissed and princesses swarming around him just for his hand in marriage, he went out in full cloack and straight to the festival that was held in the village.

He could never understand why his father didn't want to invite these people inside their humongous ball room. They seemed more fun and outgoing than the ones in full boast of their attire. The chuldren held some kind of stick that was lit with fire sparkling from the tip, people dancing in some kind of folklore but jolly tune, and there were so many stalls of food he wasn't allowed to try!

But what really made that night more surreal was when he had stumbled upon a small bar. Deciding to take a break from all of his wonderings, he was lost in the sight of so many unfamiliar dish being told to him.

"You're not from here, are you?"

He can remember his face getting pale. It was risky to have the prince spotted outside the palace. His father's rules including, "If thy prince is to be found wondering out of the palace, return thee at once and you shall be given an award for escorting him safely."

That person grabbed his wrist and ran out of that bar. He thought he was done for but quickly surged into panic when they both ran into another direction that led underneath the bridge. Was he going to eat the dust now?

"Here, you should be safe here, your highness."

The man had sat down on the grass, placing the sack he had been carrying when they ran out beside him, opening it gingerly to reveal the amount of food he had brought.

"I don't mind sharing but," Akaashi flinches when his golden eyes were more prompt from the moonlight, giving him that kind of dangerous look in them, "I know for one thing the palace doesn't allow you to eat this. It might be rubbish for you, but dig in to whatever suits your likings!" grinning, Akaashi was baffled by his kindess. His father would tell him stories about the villagers and them being nothing but cruel and savages to one another. But he was different. Come to think of it, everyone he had his eyes on the village seemed too different from the stories.

"Um." he watches as he scarfs down a loaf of bread, dipping it into some kind of white substance thag had green litterings on them.

"Hm? Oh, you wanna try the bread? Its good when you dip it in sour cream." ripping half of his bread, he hands one gently on Akaashi's palm, sliding in the dipping he was talking about. He knelts on the ground in wary, before he gives his bread a little dip in the cream and nibbles on it.

Eyes sparkling a bit at the foreign taste, he dips it once more and this time takes a bigger bite. At this moment, he didn't realized he was already starving so much.

"Good right? You should try it with the potato, it's amazing."

He gulps on his meal, giving the kind man a smile, "Thank you, for being so kind to me, um.." he trails off bashfully when he was given another one of his captivating grin.

"Bokuto, Bokuto Koutarou at your service."

And from that day he had his first meal outside the palace. His first time to ever talk to someone outside the palace and spent the entire evening with.

The day he found love.

Since then, they both made a tradition. Once a week Bokuto would help him sneak out of the palace and out to the outskirts of town where they can enjoy some time alone and explore places Akaashi wishes he could see. And most of the time, Bokuto would make his way up from the tallest tree to meet up with him from the castles balcony below his room.

It was terrifying to get caught, but what made it worthwhile was Akaashi's happiness and both of their romance blooming to one another.

He smiles sadly as he raises his finger to his eye level. The ring he was given by Bokuto, the symbol of his undying love for him, next week to be replaced by some golden band and to be owned by someone whom he will never let in his already taken heart.

"Hey, Akaashi. Gimme your hand for a second."

Both males sat on their usual spot underneath the bridge outside of town. It had been their go to since no one comes out of night.

"Are you going to place your chin again, Bokuto?"

The last time he asked for this was when he wanted to tease the prince by placing his chin on his palm and whisper an I love you to him just to see his face bloom into a pretty shade of red.

"Nooo, this is something else, trust me. You'll like it!"

Sighing but smiles at him, he obliged to his request and places his hand onto his callused palm, awaiting for his next move.

"Atleast, I hope you'll like it."

He looks up to his golden eyes, taken back a little when he sees how flustered Bokuto has gotten before feeling a cold metalic like band slid on his finger.

"Is this?"

"It's plastic, I know." he scratches the back of his head as Akaashi stares in awe at the ring, "It's not really something that should be given to someone who's from the royal palace, but I promise you this will change into a gold one soon one day."

Akaashi's cheeks flushed. Was this a pre proposal?

"Here," Bokuto shows him his hand, "I have the same one as you. This'll be our promise ring together."

The amount of love Akaashi can feel in his chest was starting to swell it made his eyes a bit teary. Yet for some reason he couldn't help but smile widely at the thought of getting away from his palace and start a new life with someone who he truly loves.

"I'll be the one who'll marry you. That's a promise."

(Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone)

He sobs at the last line he has stuck to his head, "I'm so sorry, Bokuto." afraid of what his father might have done if he was to find out he already has someone. Let alone the opposite gender, he knows behind bars wasn't going to be Bokuto's consequence.

He fears that if he were to tell his father he loves a man. A man outside the palace he would meet with the same faith as those who defiled the king. Losing another person he has loved and clung on will be the last thing to snap Akaashi from his own sanity.

And for one moment, he actually thought of marrying the woman he was told to if it meant Bokuto would stay alive until the very end.

(I keep waiting for you, but you never come)

"Akaashi?"

His body jolts from the sound coming from his balcony windows he has forgotten to close a while back. Eyes focused on the silhouette that was squated down outside, looking warily for any guards that were on patrol for the night.

Just as all hope was lost, he had forgotten that it was that time of the night Bokuto would sneak in his room like he always does to check on him and spend a little time before he leaves at dawn.

(Is this in my head? I don't know what to think)

Bokuto sprints inside his room quietly, quickly kneeling beside the sobbing prince and places his hands on his cheeks.

"Y-you,"

"I know," softly stroking his cheeks, he swipes away the sad tears, "I heard. That's why I came."

The dam finally broken, Akaashi breaks into another wave of sobs, wrecking his body as Bokuto shields him away from everything the world can offer, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he weaves his fingers in his tossled hair.

Knowing his story, his past, Bokuto vowed he would take him away from all of this misery that has chained him up from his freedom from the world. That he will be the one to take care of him and tend to him unlike now where he was being left in the shadows as a worn out doll.

"Let's run away."

(He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, )

Akaashi's eyes widened at his words. The fear striking back at him stronger.

"R-run? Run where?" his voice strained, looking like a frightful deer to Bokuto, who held a stern expression and his grip on his shoulders tighten.

"Run far away from here, anywhere. I'm not letting you marry someone you don't love and have your freedom taken away."

Bokuto's breathing was calm compared to Akaashi's ragged ones. He was quivering in so much fear he almost let's a yell out, instead it was a cracked voice that held a small plea into them.

"But you'll get killed! Bokuto...I can't have that.."

Burying his face on this broaded chest, his cries muffled as he clutches on his cloak, afraid to let go and meet with his faith.

"I don't want this.."

Bokuto forces his face up gently to look into his eyes, nothing but love and determination in them. He wonders, why isn't he afraid to lose his own life? Did he want to die so easily?

His lips suddenly captured by his, letting him melt into his hold and peck even for a second as he feels the swarm of emotion rising from within Bokuto to him before he pulls away and spoke,

"Marry me, Akaashi.

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know."

He listens to him, taking in every word and body language he could see from Bokuto.

"That's all I care about and should matter. Everything will follow if we take a step away from all of this."

"But my father—

"Let go of your dad, and go pack up your stuff."

For a second, he thought he saw his mother right before his eyes. Telling him exactly to follow Bokuto with a small smile, wanting her son to be freed from the greed and power she has known from her husband ever since she too, was forced to marry him out of demand.

There were too many things happening in one night. Yesterday they were happy, spent an entire evening exploring ones body and littering kisses all over, spilling out each other's love speeches and now,

Now marks the day Akaashi leaves his hell hole alone and live the life his mother would've wanted for him and her.

"It's a love our story, please, just say, "Yes"

And he did, for he knows he wants to keep this story going until their last breath.