#but long story short he asked me to speak polish to him so he can improve it and now he’s even starting to write decently😭

[mackenskibc]

wait I have a silly little cute story for the fam: every time yevhen and i had some small talks or sth even before I met him we did that in english right, like my brain is just programmed for english right away (unless im standing face to face with andi then my brain is just not programmed at all and i don’t know what words are anymore) and then he was also always speaking english to me and then one time dude randomly tells me his english isn’t actually that good (which is bullshit) and asked me to speak Polish to him and I was like ….wait a damn minute, you’re telling me you speak Polish? like literally all this time I was talking in English for no reason like an idiot?😭 and all I got back was voice notes of him speaking actually amazing polish, when I’m telling y’all I was mind blown…

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[geeneelee]

Judit’s Backstory, or: Why She Supports Harry

This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for a while, especially since it’s apparently not common knowledge in the fandom, but Judit has a developed backstory with Harry that can only be put together through reading one of the case files (so perhaps it’s not that surprising that people don’t know).

We start with Joseph Mills: an idiot and a terrible person.

No, he was awful. Awful sense of humour too. The worst jokes you've ever heard. Really rapey.

Harry can find out about him from reading MURDER IN THE HOOKAH PARLOR from his case files. Long story short, Mills mistook an accidental death for a murder and wasted months on it, only for Harry to identify it as a dumb accident in less than a minute.

What’s more relevant to the present-day is this:

Beaten to death by a throng of Villalobos gang-members when him and his partner J. M. (only initials mentioned) answered a call one night. It's a sad story and it isn't really represented in *your* case files. Stop stalling and get to the MURDER AT THE HOOKAH PARLOUR.

Judit’s partner was beaten to death by gangsters, presumably while she watched. Technically, J.M. could be anyone, but basic narrative rules + a few other hints make me certain that it’s Judit. Most importantly, what she says about Harry after his disastrous call to the Precinct.

"We must help him." Minot looks down at her neatly polished black shoes. There is a quiet firmness to her voice when she speaks. 

"I just know we can't give up on him when he's at his weakest. He wouldn't..." The crowd in the room has started fidgeting uncomfortably. Someone's trying to slip out unnoticed.

I’m presuming here that what she’s going to say is “He wouldn’t give up on one of us”. (Side note: judging by the reactions of everyone else, they agree. Pre-canon Harry had his good moments and his bad with the squad).

Judit might be speaking from experience - we know that she’s only been with C-Wing for two months, but why did she transfer? Given how C-wing has been hemorrhaging members, it seems odd. If she was speaking from experience, then the most likely answer is that Harry helped her out after Mills’ death (first on the scene? Provided support? who knows) and Judit, who was now without a partner, decided to follow him to C-wing.

Between her gratitude to Harry and (probably) low standards for coworkers, she’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt more than anyone else who knows him, although depending on your actions you can burn through the good will - calling her the Horse-Faced Woman and asking if you’ve had sex will make her cold towards you.

She’s also aware of Harry’s drinking problem, but has more hope than Jean does - Jean will shoot down any hint that Harry’s changed, but if he’s stayed sober, Judit will hold onto hope that it’ll stick this time

You haven't been drinking, she thinks. So maybe this time...

(Perhaps it’s just because she’s known him for the least amount of time, but it’s still more hope than anyone else in his unit has for Harry).

It’s easy to miss Judit’s implied past with Harry, and assume her patience is naivety or because she’s a mom (which might be the case in a story written by lesser writers) but it’s something more complex than that, and a tiny hint at the better side of pre-canon Harry.

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Hello there!! So a few months ago probably at this point?? I sent you an ask that i Was reading your fic 1968 and just couldn't put it down, and how much i love it. I promised to let you know what i think of it when i finished it, and i am maybe ever so slightly late, but here I am.

Shortly after I sent that ask my personal life got really messy and long story short I was just not in the headspace to consume anything heavier than, idk, New Girl. It was a rough time.

I finally picked it up again yesterday and I was so so excited to read it. I feel like the fic was haunting me, i swear. I study education, and i was really really struggling with a big exam, and if i didn't love teaching as much as I do i might have just dropped out, honestly. Then, my friend recommended and lend me a book(i have yet to read it) that she had recently read in her book club: american wife, a book about a woman's life whose husband is running for president in the US (i in turn told her about this fic and sent her the link lol). And then i ahd to write a research paper about, broadly speaking, greek mythology in modern writing. A lovely haunting in time for spooky season lmao

Anyway, i picked it up, didn't put it down except to sleep or to eat and also to regularly scream about it into the void and cry, and finished it. Now I am writing this.

As i said, that exam was really difficult, and i was sat there considering alternative career paths because I felt so close to giving up. When i got to the part in the fic where Aegon and Io were discussing what they would like to do, how they both want to teach again, on the roof??? I'm telling you I started bawling. I shed a tear here and there already very regularly throughout the fic, but that part got to me in a way i can't fully articulate. But here i am the same age as Io hut i am in university studying education and i do get to be a teacher and yeah it's difficult sometimes but

Teaching is just so great man🥺🥺

Truly, your writing is incredible. It is so so good, so touching, so real. I cry easily when reading, but the way that got me is a testament to your skills as an author.

Now onto the actual plot!! I am writing a novel here i swear i am so sorry (but not really, its praise after all😂) this is gonna be jumbled and whatever i can think of in the moment and for that i AM sorry

I was feeling more invested in the elections in your Story than the actual current ones in the US (tho to be fair i'm not american). I was feeling so constantly torn between yeah i want Aemond to win, because politically, the other options are really bad, and wanting him to finally get assassinated because OH MY GODDDDDDD. THAT MANNNN.

Everytime i thought yeah it can't get worse it did!! I cant hate him any more, in fact I can!!! How did you manage to make him THAT dislikable???? Several times throughout the fic i had to just put it away for a moment becauss of how angry i got and also because i couldn't fully believe i was about to read what i was about to read.

On the other side of course we have Aegon and the helplessness that followed his and Io's relationshop tore at my heartstrings and my heart broke about a million times again and again and again.

Io's relationship with Cosmo😭😭😭😭 he is such a precious child and oh my godddd.

Now the Gang that is Mimi, Fosco and Ludowika. Three incredible Icons. I was aftually so shocked when mimi died. Like whatttt do you meannnn??? It makes sense, i guess, but i was still so surprised lol. Fosco and Ludowika are both great. Captains of the ship they were, especially Fosco, and i love them for it. Ludowika my eastern bloc representation <3 i hope she enjoys her gucci and gets to eat some polish food

Some random things: rhaenyra and aemma mention??? Viserys has to be a bad husband and father to the greens in every universe. Alicent and criston relationship???? Ohhhhh my god yes. Nate and rachel i really loved you for your brief appearances and i do feel sorry for you.

I think once the whole Story kinda... settles, i will think of so many more things to say, but for now i'm just gonna talk about the ending.

I didn't really know what to expect from it, but i was certainly very nervous and getting more and more nervous while i watched the Page count. But you managed to wrap the story up in such a satisfying way, that felt genuienly earned and real and it was a happy ending but it wasn't unrealistic or perfect, but that made it just all the better. I would have wished that aegon and Io would have gotten a happier end, obviously, and didn't have to suffer the way they did, but you didn't comrpomise the story for the happy end. It sucks, but it's real, and that made it all the better when they finally finally reunited. I did in fact cry again when Io got to put on heavy makeup and they both got to teach and cosmo greeted her in the school and i just🥺🥺🥺🥺

And on the other side we have Aemond and you managed to have him suffer at the end (as!he!should!!) and fall off his throne on olympus finally finally finally in such a satisfying way, without having the story end unhappily with him loosing the elections because despite all i wanted him to win the elections, kinda!

OH ALSO!! DAERON OH MY GOD??? For a moment i thought that was it for daeron like oh my goddddddd. Incredible. And then he went to aegon and tessarion is his rat and he kept her and oh my godddd.

Anyway. How long is too long for a Single ask? I dont want to know the word count of this. I could have left a comment this long under every single chapter probably but i was far too invested in the story to take a break.

I'm gonna take a break now and then go on your ao3 Profile and read my way through everything. Maybe look for something where aemond is a little less shitty lol, poor boy should redeem himself. I love your writing. It's well written, but it's also just so creative and something new and it's so cool. I also would love to be added to your taglist which my phone changed to Tagliatelle three times now. Than you for writing❤️❤️❤️ (And i am sorry for how long this got lol)

Firstly, I'm so sorry to hear you've been going through a tough time and I hope you're doing a lot better now, Collie my beloved!!! I've been a public school teacher for 5 years and so I definitely understand how stressful that profession can be, but also awesome at times! The way 1968 was haunting you during your hiatus is wild 😅😅

Secondly, I am so happy you enjoyed the series!!! Your message was not too long at all, it was WONDERFUL and I read it twice during my lunch break 😍 1968 was soooooo painful at times but I really appreciate you embracing the bittersweetness. The good news is that basically any fic is going to feature a nicer version of Aemond 😂 I would especially recommend Now I'm Covered In You.

Lastly, bestie I would love to add you to my tagliatelle! 🥰🍝

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Into The Deep

(Story Post)

Dusty had spent most of his time that night in temporary custody, which really meant he was held up at the gates of the elven city by two handsome guards. As proud Dark elves, they were very resistant to his advances at first, but eventually they warmed up to him. By the time Korsy came to pick him up, he had lengthened his hair to match the elves and the guards were taking turns plaiting his locks. “Looks like you're fitting right in,” Korsy commented amused. “Oh yes, Bjarne and Marbjörn were about to show me a tour of the island,” Dusty said. “You'll have to do that later, boys,” Korsy said to a pair of grumbles. “I need Dusty in the Deep with me.” “Okay, Adele. Let's go!” Dusty said, taking Korsy's arm. “So, they're not worried about my poofing around?” “Well, they're pretty confident, if you poof, they'll eliminate you.” “Ah.” “Demons are my specialty, personally,” Korsy teased. “Don't remind me.”

They had a twenty-minute limit at the lab and that included the long elevator ride down that gave the Deep its name. They were used to this kind of thing at APID, but this seemed even more excessive. “What day is it?” Dusty joked as they emerged from the elevators. The doors opened into a long hall lit with violet flamed torches. The floor was gypsum and the walls and ceiling polished granite. Aesthetically terrible but someone had put a lot of work into it. A guard met them there and they were escorted down to the containment rooms. Each room was visible through glass walls. They were brightly lit, entirely white, with the only furniture being a small bed in a corner. Tand and the kids had all been separated so they went to look at the kids first to make sure they were alright. First was the smallest child whom Asger had nicknamed ‘Bita’. The poor thing usually stayed close to one of their older siblings, so they were hidden, curled up under the bed. They didn't try to lure them out and instead Dusty went over and crouched beside them. “Just find out if they're healthy and we'll move onto the next one,” Korsy said. “And be careful. This one bit Asger.” “Oh, I'm not concerned about that,” Dusty said. “A little bite won’t hurt me.” He laid down on his chest and looked at the little one trying to press themselves against the wall as much as possible. They stared at him with big round eyes. “Hello, little friend,” Dusty said softly. “I know you're scared, but I just want to say ‘hi’.” Their eyes searched his face but they didn't say anything. “Do they speak?” Dusty asked Korsy. “Asger said they picked up Elvish off of him like it was just a game,” Korsy said, staying back near the door. “I imagine if you talk to them enough, they'll get English.” “You can't talk to them in Elvish?” Dusty asked. “I don’t know Elvish. I was never allowed to learn.” “Oh.” Bita still didn't move, but they could hear their short frightened breathing. Dusty tried again. “You're a cute little thing, aren't you?” he mused. “You remind me of my son, Grey. He's likely just a bit older than you. He doesn't talk much either but he's still learning. I heard you're very good at learning.” Bita didn't move but their mouth opened a little like they wanted to say something. “You're the baby of the family, aren't you?” Dusty said gently. “You miss your siblings. We're here to see if we can get you all back together again. You and…what were the names?” “Sten and Soppa. Rock and Soup,” Dusty reminded, a bit mocking of his cousin's poor naming abilities. “Remember, Asger made those up. They don't actually know each other by names.” “Right. Well…” Dusty offered his hand. “Little one, all I ask is your hand for a moment and then we'll let you be. I won't hurt you.” Bita’s breath hitched as the hand came towards them and suddenly they lunged, biting down hard on Dusty’s hand. Expecting it, he grit his teeth through the pain and didn't pull away, just concentrating on forming a connection to the child's physical and emotional state. “You can bite me. I mean it when I say I won't hurt you.” After a moment, the bite weakened and Bita let go, receding deeper under the bed. Dusty took his hand back and shook it out, the bite wound healing quickly. “Alright. I won't trouble you any more. Thank you.” He got up and went back to the hall. “Geez, that was really quite the bite strength. Their teeth are so sharp!” “Are you okay?” Korsy asked. “Yeah. Of course. Surprised me though.” “Okay,” Korsy said satisfied. “So they're healthy?” “Seem to be, though pretty hungry and scared,” Dusty said. “Next kid?” “Yeah. Come on.” Sten reacted mostly the same as Bita, although they didn't bite. They managed to get some words parroted from them, like ‘scared' and ‘tired', but after a quick hand shake, Dusty could deduce these feelings himself. He started to wish he could do more than just sense others emotions and mildly influence them because the child had been too scared to sleep since they arrived. If he could sleep them like angels could, it would be quite useful right now. Soppa was the more interesting case. This one didn't hide so much, and when they saw Korsy, they sat up on the little bed and watched him as the visitors entered. “Asger,” the child said although lacking confidence. Korsy paused, not expecting words so quickly. “Oh. Naw, kid. I'm Korsy. Asger and I are cousins though so we look a little alike.” “Cousin?” Soppa asked. “Yeah. My mother and his father are siblings like you and the other kids. Or at least, I assume you are.” “Siblings…” Soppa considered the word. “Yeah. You're Tand's kids, right? You're siblings,” Korsy explained. “I have a sibling. One of my parents carried her in her stomach and she came out. You're the oldest. Do you remember anything like that? Tand is your parent, right?” Soppa paused and then nodded. “Yes.” “Right. So they're your siblings,” Korsy finished. “Asger and Korsy are cousins,” Soppa said. “Not siblings.” “No. We are the children of siblings, which makes us cousins,” Korsy confirmed. Soppa nodded again. “You're a very bright kid, Soup,” Korsy said, putting his hands akimbo and smiling. “Would you mind letting my friend Dusty here have your hand for a moment?” Soppa looked at Dusty and shook their head. “You cannot have my hand.” “Oh? Why's that?” Korsy asked. “You don't need to be scared.” “I need my hands,” Soppa said. Dusty let out a short snort and looked at Korsy. “They think we want to take it. Literally.” “Oh, shit. Sorry, not what I meant,” Korsy said, waving his hands. “I just meant let Dusty touch your hand. He won't take it from you.” “Oh.” Soppa looked at their hands and then held them both out. “Thank you, dear.” Dusty approached and held Soppa's hands in his. “Ah, you’re very relaxed. I'm surprised. I'd expect a little more fear, but frankly, you're only just cautious.” Soppa furrowed their brow. “Asger said he would help. I trust Asger. You seem like Asger.” “I see. You must've had the most interactions with Asger,” Dusty said. “I can sense that you look up to him.” “My parent…Tand feeds me and my siblings. Asger fed me too,” Soppa stated. “Ah, so that's the key to your heart, huh?” Korsy chuckled. He patted down his suit. “Now I wish I brought some snacks or something…” “Now, you should be careful about that,” Dusty said, taking his hands away. “I've told my son and I'll tell you. Don't just trust any stranger who offers you food.” “Why not?” Soppa asked, confused. “They are feeding me. That is important.” “Right, but some people don't have good intentions for children,” Dusty said. “So…” Soppa was having a hard time. “Should I not trust Asger?” “I mean, you can trust him, I'm pretty sure, but from now on, don't take food from strangers,” Dusty said. “Okay?” Soppa nodded silently. Dusty could still sense some confusion from them though. “Well, you're all healthy, so we only need to worry about getting you out of here and getting some food into you,” Dusty said. “I hear you like soup. Let's get you some soon, how does that sound?” Soppa nodded quickly. “Soup is good!” “Alright. We’ll see you soon.” Dusty smiled and patted their arm before going back to the door with Korsy. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you along,” Korsy said as they backed out of the room. “I have no idea how to talk to kids.” “That can't be true. You have your little sister, don't you?” Dusty reminded. “Yeah, but that's different. She's family,” Korsy dismissed. They were now in front of Tand's room. Through the glass, they saw Tand sitting near the back of the room, leaned up against the wall. Their eyes were dark and heavy and they watched with great caution as the pair approached the door. Korsy led this time. Dusty handled the kids easy, but really this rendez-vous was Korsy's responsibility and it wasn't appropriate for him to potentially put his trainee in danger. “Hi there,” Korsy started as he stepped just inside the room. “I'm Korsy.” Tand slowly got up, still pressed against the wall. They bared their teeth, sharp and intimidating. “Whoa, no need for that,” Korsy said, waving his hands. “I come in peace. I'm Asger's cousin. He sent me to help you.” “He lied!” Tand spat, following it with a long hiss. “I do not trust him!” “No, no, that's fair, really.” Korsy started to lower himself, trying to give off an unthreatening appearance. “I get it. He told me everything. He promised you safety in his world, but instead you were separated from your children and thrown in a cell. Anyone would feel betrayed. Trust me, this kind of thing happens way too often…” Tand continued to bare their teeth and said nothing. Korsy got himself to the floor and crossed his legs. “I want to say sorry on Asger's behalf. He genuinely wanted to help you. He wants to help you. This was just something he should have anticipated. You can't just bring back a family of four from the Dark Realm. It's just not allowed around here.” “Send us back!” Tand snarled. “I hear you. I do. I don't think I have that power, to be honest,” Korsy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven't been allowed near the Rift in many years.” He flipped up his palms in front of him. “But, I might be able to get you out of here. You and the children.” Tand shook their head quickly. “No. I do not trust you either.” “Really, that's fine. I wouldn't trust me in your position. I get that.” Korsy shrugged. “But, I don't really need you to trust me. My concern right now isn't your trust, my concern is getting you out of here. And more specifically, right now it's making sure you’re in good health.” “…Health,” Tand echoed, considering the term. “Yeah. My friend here, Dusty. He just needs a quick look at you to check that you’re in tip top shape then we'll be out of your hair,” Korsy explained. Tand's eyes darted to Dusty who still standing outside the door. They shook their head. “No. Leave.” “Now hold on, hear us out,” Korsy said. “We just spoke to your kids. They're all healthy. A little tired, a little hungry, but otherwise healthy. Dusty checked in on them for you. We just want to check on you too.” Tand wrinkled their nose. “I do not have a choice, do I?” “Of course you have a choice,” Korsy said. “I'm not trying to force you to do anything.” He signalled for Dusty to come in. “Just meet him. See how you feel.” Tand's eyes widened as Dusty stepped inside, and they pressed themselves further against the wall, hissing. “No! Leave!” Korsy held up a hand to stop Dusty from coming any closer. “Relax…” Tand started breathing heavily, their eyes darting about. “I do not trust you!” “Tand, don't panic,” Korsy said. “We'll leave, okay?” He started to stand up. Tand was too wound up though and as soon as Korsy started to rise, they lashed out. Lunging forward, they took a warning swipe at Korsy, but faltered. When their foot came down, their knees went weak and they staggered, starting to fall. Korsy caught them, rather surprised at how limp they went. “Whoa, are they okay?” Dusty asked. “They passed out!” Korsy said, carrying Tand down into a sitting position. “They must be exhausted…” Dusty stepped forward again, his hand out. “Can I?” “Should be safe, yeah.” Dusty carefully approached and placed a hand on the limp person's shoulder. He blinked. “Oh.” “Oh?” Korsy echoed. “They're definitely tired,” Dusty said. “Very hungry too. But…I think they need to see a doctor.” “A doctor?” Korsy asked. Dusty nodded. “Yeah. I… Hold on.” He moved his hand down to Tand's torso then stomach. He paused. “I think they're pregnant.” Korsy's eyes widened. “Pregnant?” Dusty took his hand away and nodded again. “Yeah… But in their current condition, it can't be good for a baby. They need fluids, food and rest. They're very stressed out, I could hardly get a good read.” Korsy nodded back, although he was still surprised by this information with just how rail thin Tand was. He picked up the unconscious Tand and laid them on the bed. “We should go then. Only way we can help is to get them out of here. I gotta make sure my uncle's in a giving mood…” Korsy motioned for a guard to let them out and they exited quickly. Dusty glanced back at Tand, empathetic worry starting to build up in his chest. “I wish Syd was here…” Dusty thought out loud. “They'd be able to help.” “Well, if we get them out, it’ll be into APID custody. A doctor can see them then,” Korsy said. “Are you confident you can get them out of this place?” “Yeah, I think I have an offer my uncle will be happy to accept… I just need to talk to Asger first.”

[thefangirlthatwaited]

At Twilight (Chapter 15)

Link x Original Character

"Oh, that the Goddesses you're awake." The voice sounded muffled at first then clearer as the spoke again. "Don't sit up. You're pretty badly hurt still." "Hurt?" I cough. "It is a long story. One I will explain once you have recovered more. I will return shortly with some food and water. Please do not move." I nod my head as Renado disappears. I take this time to take note of where I was. I was in the home that I had in Kakariko. Why did he take me here and not the inn? Then I see why. My shirt and gloves I were to cover my markings were gone, leaving me completely exposed. If I'd been taken to the inn the children would have likely seen and asked questions. I continue to piece together what got me here as my memory was a bit scattered at the moment. I remember the desert and meeting the Sages but after that things got hazy. My thoughts were interrupted by the return of Renado and some much-needed food. "Smells delicious," "Ilia made it for you. It's a simple soup to start with. Now sit up slowly. I don't want you to aggravate your injuries."

I was still confused about the injuries he spoke of. I don't recall getting hurt to the point of passing out. I did take some scraps and bruises while in the desert but nothing else comes to mind. I begin to eat, slowly as Renado insisted and was thankful for the warning. It was difficult to lift the spoon to my mouth I was so weak. But one spoonful at a time I finished the bowl he brought for me and polished off two glasses of water but I still felt thirsty. "I'll bring you more water in a moment." I nod passing him my tray then I see one of the injuries he spoke of. It was my left hand and arm. Where once it was only my Twili markings that called that its home now was a fairly large burn. My eyes stared at it in horror as memories of Ordon rear their ugly head. The pain I had when my hand only brushed the Master Sword. I haven't come in contact with it since so why is my arm burned in the same manner? I look to Renado for answers and in return, I get a face full of guilt. 

"Renado?" "I'll explain. But you are still severely dehydrated. Let me get you some more water and then we can discuss your injuries further." I nod unable to find words to reply. He leaves again for a short while and returns with another pitcher of water. He watches silently as I polish it off, finally my thirty dying down. I place the cup on my nightstand and wait. I didn't know how to start this conversation so my hope was that Renado would. He takes note of me waiting and grants me the pity to speak first. "I found you lying on the ground outside the inn about a week ago. You were severely dehydrated and malnourished and if I had to guess you had heat stroke. There were also a few cuts and bruises on your arms and legs from an unknown source. The first thing we did was get you inside to further examine you. I sent the youngest of the children away and got my daughter, Luda and Ilia to assist me. I can trust them not to speak of what they saw." "So they saw my markings?" "I'm afraid I had no choice. It was your life I needed to focus on. Not your secrets."

Full Chapter on Ao3

[project1939]

Day 62- Film: The Devil Makes Three 

Release date: September 19th, 1952. 

Studio: MGM 

Genre: Thriller 

Director: Andrew Marton 

Producer: Richard Goldstone 

Actors: Gene Kelly, Pier Angeli, Richard Egan 

Plot Summary: In 1947, an American pilot returns to Munich for Christmas to thank the German family who hid him from the Nazis during the war. He hears that the parents have both been killed, but their daughter is still alive. Now 18, they reconnect, and he falls for her. She asks him to take her to Salzburg, discovering later that she had smuggled goods in the car. As he becomes more involved with her, he learns there is more at stake than a few smuggled camera lenses and needles.  

My Rating (out of five stars): *** 

(Some spoilers) This is another difficult film to rate because it is so mixed. I mostly enjoyed it, and I enjoyed trying to piece together what was really going on. But it’s a movie with a lot of issues and flaws. 

The Good: 

The extensive location shooting in both Germany and Austria. Very few things looked like obvious sets, and the only rear projection was in driving scenes. It was glorious to see all the beautiful location footage, even if a lot of the shots included rubble from the war. It was especially chilling that they filmed at the ruins of Hitler's house before it was totally destroyed.

The plot was genuinely intriguing. It took awhile for everything to start piecing together, and once the pieces started to tell a story, it was still ominously mysterious. How deep did everything go? Just how high level were the figures involved?

The long scenes of the music in nightclubs. It was fun to get a flavor of German and Austrian culture. The comic singer at the main nightclub was especially interesting. 

The way the plot later connected some of the music with some of the main characters in an unexpected way. 

The ultimate bad guy was way creepy. Very effective. 

The Bad: 

Gene Kelly is a likeable competent actor, but he was really miscast in this, I think. I enjoyed him a lot in his non-musical role in Inherit the Wind, so he’s more than capable of being in a non-musical film, but still... something just didn’t fit right here. 

Pier Angeli was miscast as well. Most infuriatingly, she was not German, she was Italian! There was some throw-away line that her mother was Italian, but her character was seemingly a German girl who grew up in Germany. She clearly didn’t speak with a German accent, and when she did speak German in the movie, it was passable, in short phrases or sentences. 

There was no chemistry between the leads. I didn’t get even the slightest bit of chemistry between Kelly and Angeli. Angeli looked so young as well, and Kelly was nearly 40- something about it made me uncomfortable. 

The plot was a little slow at times. It certainly didn’t feel like a “thriller” for the majority of the movie. The big action didn’t really come until the very end. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, think High Noon, for example, but it took a little too long to get going for me. 

MGM was not a studio known for dark and gritty noirs, and you can kind of tell that here. The style was a little too polished for me. I wanted more grit. 

[j-graysonlibrary]

Fort Heaven Chapter 6

Title: Fort Heaven

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 69K

Genres: Suspense, investigative, drama, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Some call it a hoax. Others claim it’s a cult. But, to Evon and his friend Yasmine, two online journalists, Fort Heaven is the subject of their latest story. Along for the assignment is cameraman and not-so-secret crush of Evon’s: Russet. With a drunken, murky night in their recent history, things are especially tense between them but, of course, personal matters take a backseat when the interviews start. The trio speaks to ex-members of Fort Heaven and, while some of the accounts are shocking, the job remains just that: A job. That is until one of the women they interviewed, along with her daughter, goes missing. It soon becomes clear that not only is Fort Heaven a real threat but Evon and his friends are being watched. And what started as a simple cash-grab article is now a matter of life and death.

Full Chapter 6 under the cut

Chapter 6

The keyboard clicked with each tap of Evon’s fingers as he took the notes from the interview and tried to lace them together with continuity and grace. Linda’s story was a short one but it would still be a good insight—especially by the time he was done embellishing it a bit.

In the corner of his computer screen Yasmine sent him a few messages about her notes and a secondary interview.

Evon worked quickly to finish up a paragraph before checking what she had to say. He asked about the next interview and was immediately taken aback.

It would be at least a day’s trip away.

Unwilling to try to articulate his thoughts via text, he picked up his phone to call her. As soon as she picked up, she laughed.

“Why did you call me?”

“It’s easier,” he defended himself but still laughed along with her. “What’s up with the next interview? Did you get a reply back today?”

“Just about an hour ago, actually.” Her voice was distant—she probably had him on speaker. “I already said we’d do it but it might take a couple of days. Didn’t want to spring a huge trip on you out of nowhere.”

“Well I appreciate it,” Evon remarked, “who is it with?”

He could hear some typing over the phone before she answered him. “Bob and Darcy…no last name. I guess last names don’t really matter in this context anyway…” There was a short pause. “Anyway, Bob was in Fort Heaven for—wow—like a decade almost. He left with his wife and they had to move six…wait…SIX times!?”

“Jesus…”

“This is going to be a little intense…” she trailed off, probably reading more of the message. “Sorry, this is a new email from them I just got.”

Evon laughed. “I kind of figured with that reaction.”

“Alright they gave me their number so we can talk,” Yasmine mumbled but he could distinguish her words, “What time frame would work for you best, Evon?”

“Next week? Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday if that’s okay with them.”

The weekend would inevitably be full of polishing the small piece that they had written between the two of them about Linda. As long as it was interesting, well written, and fully engaging their boss then they could get a real time frame for the final project.

It was scary to think that Gavin could take one look at what they had and tell them that they had to either leave or take free-lance positions. Evon wanted to have more material prepared but he hoped that with Linda’s piece and a brief rundown of what they already received from Bob and Marcy that it would be enough.

***

Russet laid halfway down on his bed and watched over the video he had while mentally picturing how he would edit the pieces together. He’d have to get his computer up and running to go through the big camera’s footage but he was feeling just a little too lazy.

The video started from the moment the three had entered the car to the moment they left it with a few breaks throughout. Some of it was just scenery which he would keep but likely put to the side and add in later when needed.

He scratched the side of his chin before speeding forward a few minutes. Only Evon was in the shot and it was in the middle of one of their group sing-a-longs. Toward the end an overly excited Evon tried to hit a high note but his voice completely broke and he started coughing though there was a lot of laughter in there as well.

Yasmine could be heard cackling off camera. “You sounded like a thirteen year old boy going through puberty!”

“My throat is dry,” he retaliated and took his right hand off the wheel to smack at her.

She wasn’t bothered by it at all and continued to laugh.

“You didn’t hit the note either,” Evon said once she’d settled down some.

“I didn’t try.”

“Children,” Russet heard himself on camera, “No fighting.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Yasmine asked and the camera finally moved in her direction. She had her hand stuffed in the side of her jacket only so she could pull it out and reveal her middle finger.

Russet chuckled and threatened, “I’ll turn this car around.”

“I’m driving,” Evon pointed out just before the camera refocused on him.

“I’ll figure something out,” he responded.

“He’s gonna kill us!” Yasmine yelled dramatically, “God no! Is this why you agreed to come?! So you could kill us yourself?!”

“Absolutely,” Russet answered with a straight voice. “I’m filming so I can re-watch it later and re-live the moment forever.”

“Well this got dark really fast,” Evon said and then they all laughed.

Russet paused the video and sighed—mostly in disappointment at himself. He’d been getting steadily worse and the video and his recent actions just reinforced that. He wondered if anyone had actually noticed—Trinity specifically.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled to himself and then laid his head back onto his pillow. His room was small and rather bland in terms of decoration so there wasn’t much to focus on and that let his mind wander.

When he first remembered seeing Evon was when he was still a baby. Trinity, unlike a lot of children, was excited to have a little sibling. Personally, Russet probably would have thrown a fit if he knew he’d have to share attention with some kid he didn’t know. And, in a way, he felt that way toward Evon in terms of sharing Trinity’s affection.

The older Evon got, the more attention he demanded from his sister and there were certain time periods where he simply wouldn’t leave her alone. Russet always felt uncomfortable or irritated by the younger boy and didn’t try much to hide it though Trinity just found it to be funny.

She was beyond entertained when Evon told Russet that he had a crush on him—though at the time, Russet hadn’t exactly realized he was a boy yet and any ideas he had of nonconformity were securely locked away. Trinity thought the pair were cute and was excited at the prospect of having her best friend also be her ‘sister-in-law’.

It was after Russet came out that he realized something was wrong with himself. One of his greatest worries was whether or not Evon would accept it. If he would lash out because of his crush on a perceived girl. Other boys had felt that way at school and most flat out denied that Russet had said anything and continued to use his dead name and call him a girl.

Then there was Evon who was perfectly fine with it—almost too fine. It was if he knew all along but just waited for everyone else to catch up.

It meant far more than Russet was ever willing to admit. And after finding out—through Trinity—that Evon’s crush hadn’t gone away, he made it his mission in life to stay away from the kid if it was possible. The less time they spent together was less time he had to worry about slipping up and destroying a lifelong friendship.

That party was a mistake, choosing to be around Evon while he was drunk was a huge mistake, and agreeing to take on this project with him and Yasmine was easily the dumbest thing he’d ever done. And the video was proof.

Just as he was getting ready to travel down a rabbit hole of self hatred, his phone rang. He dreaded it being Evon and, lucky for him, it wasn’t.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he answered after a few seconds.

“Stuff,” Yasmine answered. They’d exchanged numbers before the trip since it would be best for all of them to be able to contact the other instead of Evon being the go-between. “We’ve got another interview on Tuesday.”

His brow furrowed. “This Tuesday?”

“Yep.” She sounded quite happy about it and, from her perspective he supposed it would be the sooner the better. “Our project has been approved by the boss and we have a month to work on it.”

“A month…isn’t that a bit, I don’t know, short?”

The woman laughed in a way that let him know just how much she and Evon were expected to do in such a short amount of time. Sure, he liked to have things done in a timely fashion but he felt quality was more important.

“It’s generous. Trust me.” She sighed.

“Got it,” Russet responded. “So where is the next destination?”

“…A few states away,” Yasmine spoke in a careful tone as if he’d disband from them.

“Ah, a little country traveling then,” he said with a smirk. His other hand seemed to move by itself and stated to roll the camera back and forth across the bed. “Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

He could hear the sigh of relief. “Good. We’ll have to book a hotel while we’re there so…shit I guess I should get on that.”

Russet chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll do it.”

That seemed to genuinely surprise her. “Oh…thanks, Russet. You don’t have to, you know.”

“I’m aware but…” he spoke and looked down at the camera in his hand. If he didn’t give himself something to do then he knew he would spend all night looking through his footage and over thinking things. “You two do enough already so I’ll pay for the hotels.”

“Okay,” she said, giving up her resistance to the idea rather easily.

“I’ll text you the place when I find it.”

“Send it in a group chat,” Yasmine declared before hanging up. It was almost startling.

Russet took his phone from beside his ear and watched the screen go dark. “Does nobody say goodbye…?”

[thedrifter143]

Between Employees (A Cuphead OC short write)

“Well, hi-de-ho! What brings you to the casino, Miss? I ain't seen your face around here before.” The smaller figure looked at dice in confusion, removing their hood. Despite the several years it had been, now that Dice got a look at them, he indeed did know her. Shards. One of the Devil's enforcers from off Inkwell. A cup lady with a series of golden cracks along her face and handle. “Well well well! The former right-hand lady from the big man himself has finally decided to show her ugly mug in these parts, eh? Now, I ain't one to judge a book by the cover, but I'd like to know whether this book is a horror story - or a comedy... And what brings here to a high-profile establishment such as this? Care to enlighten me? I'd quite fancy a good laugh here, before I go ahead and kick ya back to the streets... for old time's sake - and some payback to boot…”

"I'm here to talk to the Devil." Shards replied, her eye twitching as she removed her coat and hung it up. "He asked to speak to me. You know. That thing he never does to you?" She shot back coldly. These two had had a long term rivalry. One that had always been sparked from both being ambitious and hardheaded, as well as a deal self centered.

“Oooooh, you got some nerve there, missy. You really got some nerve.” The Dicehead seethed softly. “You might be a former employee of mine, former being the word of emphasis here. But don't think that your reputation goes unchecked, I've heard tales from my boss man - and a couple of his high-roller buddies - of a certain 'Cup Lady' with some kind of a twisted grudge against me, who seems to have it out for a certain, oh I dunno... King Dice. And I didn't get to where I am today by being a pushover.”

Shards chuckled derisively and kicked the dirt off her shoes. "No you got here by being a little bitch." She snarked. "But if you wish to defy the Devil's direct orders....your funeral Kingsy."

“Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your former superior?” She rolled her eyes and attempted to elbow past him, only to be stopped by a gloved hand. “As for defiance, I merely have to ask you one thing: Are you absolutely sure The Devil told you that himself, or did some other, uh... source pass that along to you? You know, for all I know, you could just be trying to weasel your way into some kind of revenge on your former employer. And I won't have it.”

"For fuck's sake you over polished piece of cheap acrylic!" She shouted, fishing a piece of familiar paper from her jacket. "I may no longer be a Casino employee, but I am still one of the Devil's enforcers of contracts and debts. I have no interest in you whatsoever. I have a job to do. So move." Shards was not magically inclined like Dice. She relied on force and her personality, so her shouting drew eyes from every corner of the Casino that could be seen.

“Over-polished? Over-polished?!?” The Devil’s right hand man was also shouting now, which drew even more attention as King Dice never raised his voice within the Casino…or ever as far as many were aware. “That's it, Missy!! How dare you go around insulting the King like this!?!? You think I'm gonna tolerate someone calling me things such as over-polished??? I'm not afraid of doing some damage, you know, and I think you're really pushing your luck here... I am King Dice, dammit!!! You do not talk to me this way without any consequences!!!”

That familiar cackle from the cup woman said she wasn't taking Dice seriously whatsoever. "Dice. I have fought bigger and tackier people than you. Move so I can go talk to the boss-" Shards once again attempted to brute force her way past Dice, which while Dice was nowhere near her level physically…he outmatched her in terms of demonic magic. A solid wall of force hit the cup squarely in the nose, sending a resounding pain through her cracked face and handle, which only proceeded to piss her off more as Dice began speaking again.

“Bigger and tackier? Bigger... and tackier?” His eyes flashed the same lavender as his suit, before quickly turning to a more poisonous purple.  “You think I'm some common thug? Some measly goon? I am King Dice, the Devil's Right-Hand Man. I'll show you "bigger and tackier" - you think I'm all guff and no bite? Well I'm the real thing, and more! Now, you've had your chance, it's time for me to show you who's the boss...”

The shorter woman was about to start shouting-when the power cut and the Casino fell into uneasy silence. Shards and Dice both felt the sickening sensation of being teleported via demonic magic...until the movement stopped...and both King Dice and Shards now stood in the Devil's seemingly empty throne room.

"Good job, Dice." Shards said lowly. "Now we're both gonna get it." Anyone who worked for the Devil had a healthy fear of his throne room...Dice and Shards especially did...Shards was a lot less charismatic about her fear, while Dice's face went pale, all of the arrogance that he had been sporting moments earlier completely gone. In a matter of moments, what was going through his head was a combination of panic and dread…

“Which one of you would like to explain why you were fighting in my Casino?" The Devil's voice echoed from somewhere unseen, but both employees tensed noticeably. Shards was the first one to speak.

"Your Lordship, I just want one thing to be clear..." She made eye contact with Dice, before looking away. "It was King Dice's fault!”

“WHAT???” He shouted, grabbing his coworker by the collar. “Listen here you cracked little brat- I am NOT the bad guy here! Last time you stepped foot in this Casino chaos ensued and I was NOT letting that happen again-”

“Wah wah wah.” She mocked, rolling her eyes and giving him a glare as the taller man tightened his grip-the poisonous color returning to his eyes.

“You... you... you little, slimy, lying slug!!! Who do you think you are, you little-! I know your type, lady - I've dealt with people like you my entire career. Arrogant, overconfident, thinks they can get away with anything - they always get their comeuppance in the end.” The sickly purple turned green, and Shards flinched slightly…before he lowered her and dusted his hands on his vest. “I am going to-...No. No... I will not stoop to her level.”

“Pussy.” Shards said bluntly. Aaand that was the lynch pin. Spells came first and then the crack of Shards punching Dice in the chest came next…before a rush of fire had both frozen in place due to the reflexive terror of both employees as the Devil appeared before them. The King of Darkness had seen better days; one of his horns snapped at the base, his arm in a sling and his opposite leg in a cast with a shiny black(er than normal) eye to add insult to injury. Both Dice and Shards felt a white hot pain surge through their muscles and both were forced to drop to their knees due to the pain of the Devil’s own dark powers.

“Enough.” The Devil stated, and the pain subsided, but neither made to stand. Both remained on the floor, facing the tiles so as to not incur their boss’ rage further. “Now. You both making a further mockery of this Casino aside…I have summoned Shards from off island today for a special mission you will be assisting her with Dice.”

This caught them both off guard; exchanging a look between the two before they both faced the Devil. “Both of us sir?” Dice asked, confused. “But-what about the Casino? Who will run that while you recover?”

“I’ll be closing down the Casino in the meanwhile. I can’t keep it up thanks to what that miserable cup did…” He growled, tapping his claws on the arms of his throne. 

“U-understood sir.” Shards spoke up, looking at the Devil. “What is the mission sir?”

“My nephew Darwin.” He said plainly, as a fiery mirror appeared before the two employees. A young devil boy who looked alarmingly similar to the Devil himself appeared, playing with a ball in an empty house. “I was supposed to watch him but in my current state I fear I can’t keep up with the boy’s energy. You two are to watch him.”

“I-Sir, babysitting?” Shards asked incredulously, Dice’s expression sharing the sentiment. “Sir-I am not a people person I enforce rules and debts and your will-unflinching and unhesitating-I don’t do kids sir-”

“Well now you do. Both of you do. Darwin is the heir to my throne as I have no children of my own and do not desire any. You two are going to watch Darwin for me, and make sure he is protected at all costs.” The Devil stated firmly. “And when I check on Darwin, if I that you two have done nothing but bicker and argue the entire time-I will send your souls both to the Fox King-Do you both understand?”

Shards remained silent as the grave, holding her hand over her frantically struggling heart as Dice nodded in confirmation. “Yes sir-of course sir-”

“Excellent,” The Devil said slyly, and that nauseating sense of being pulled elsewhere occurred. “Your things have already been sent Darwin’s way…enjoy your duties you two…or else.” Darwin, The Fox King- @wittycranberry

[koushou]

an archon’s jealousy

pairing : zhongli x f!reader {fluff}

warnings : none! zhongli cuteness overload 

word count : 1.8k

a/n : genshin has taken over my life so enjoy my favorite peepaw 

the geo archon, once feared by all beings in teyvat, was known for his strength and abilities in battle, as well as his logical way of thinking and planning. his weakness? well, he’s definitely not great with emotions. especially jealousy.

“Ah, this painting reminds me of when an old friend and I had been travelling together for the first time, there was-” 

Zhongli turns around, smiling as he reminisces of events from hundreds of years ago, however turning into a frown quickly. 

His golden eyes scan the dining room, sighing as they fail to identify a certain someone. Placing his cup of tea down onto the polished wooden table, he walks out to the private balcony area of Wangmin Restaurant, breathing in the familiar fresh air of the nation he’d known for as long as he existed.

It had been two days.

Two days since he’s spoken to his lover, two days since the small quarrel you both had in the exact restaurant he’s currently standing in.

It had been quite a trivial matter in his opinion, when a young waitress working there had just been a tad kinder to the geo archon, leaving a few light touches here and there. Even “accidentally” spilling tea over herself, putting on a show of cleaning herself. 

Not noticing the dark glare of his lover from across the table, he offers the apologizing waitress a small smile, assuring her it wasn’t a big deal. As she walks away, he finally turns back to the now fuming Y/N who was shoving food down her throat to avoid speaking to him.

He chuckles softly, still unaware of the reason for your anger, “Love, slow down, the food isn’t going anywhere.”

Refusing to acknowledge his presence, you huff and continue chewing your food as if he wasn’t even there. Zhongli looks at you with a confused expression, but just before he had a chance to speak, the waitress returns.

She takes a few of your plates that were finished being used, occasionally sending small looks at your boyfriend, oblivious to the whole situation.

“I love your earring, Mr. Zhongli,” she bats her eyelashes at the man, your man, as she continues cleaning the table at record slow speed. 

“Ah, thank you.” He sends a small nod her way, not noticing the way she might as well be sitting on top of him with the close proximity of their two bodies. 

“Where did you get it from?” You roll your eyes while still focusing on your food, anyone could tell the way she was speaking in a faker, higher tone.

“Actually, they were gifted from an old friend of mine, we would travel together all the time and-” Zhongli goes off on one of his rants again, to the waitress’s pleasant surprise. To your shock, she takes a seat right next to your unsuspecting boyfriend who was still speaking, nodding along with his words. 

The audacity of this bi-

You slam your hands on the table abruptly, stopping Zhongli in his story as he looks up at you.

You shoot the coldest stare at him, one that even the geo archon, who had fought every monster, travelled to every corner of the world, swore sent shivers through his body.

“Love?”

“I’m finished, have fun on your date,” You spat, emphasizing the last word, and you could’ve sworn you saw the waitress roll her eyes.

Leaving Zhongli still in a confused state, you stormed out of the room, not paying mind to the distant protests of your boyfriend.

Zhongli sighs, snapping out of his thoughts, leaning against the railing of the balcony. He had walked out and tried to find you, but failed and you hadn’t appeared since.

After finally consulting Childe, the last person he’d ever want to speak to, about why you had acted like the way you did, he simply laughed at the man, claiming that you had been feeling jealous.

That had left Zhongli even more confused. Jealous? He was simply sharing his tales with a curious person, what was there to be jealous of?

He sighs again, ready to head back into the dining room until he spots a familiar figure below him.

You were standing below the balcony he was on, not seeming to realize he was there. Zhongli breathes a sigh of relief, oh how he missed seeing you. About to go down and surprise you, he stops in his tracks when he sees a young man walk up to you and begin talking.

An unfamiliar feeling seeps through his body when you laugh at something the stranger said, a wonderful sound he thought was reserved for him, and him only. 

You probably knew each other, that’s why you guys looked so close, right? Friends can laugh at each other, of course there was nothing wrong with the scene unfolding before the archon. That’s why the man’s hand had reached towards a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear, right?

Zhongli grits his teeth, and makes his way down the restaurant as fast as his feet could take him.

He could hear you giggling upon walking out the restaurant’s doors, and quickly makes his way to you.

Walking up behind you, he slips an arm around your waist and pulls you softly back against his chest. 

You let out a surprised yelp, ready to attack whoever was touching you, until you turned and saw that it had just been your boyfriend, who seemed to be seething at the moment.

“Zhongli..?” Something about him seemed a little different, maybe it was the way he glared daggers into the other man who had just been talking to you and touching you. 

If looks could kill? Let’s just say The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor has an extra client today. 

“Hey love, I missed you,” Zhongli presses a kiss to your cheek, “Who might this be?” 

A bit flustered from the contact, you looked at the other man who seemed on the verge of peeing himself right there, and had to suppress a laugh.

“Ah, this is just a friend I met a few days ago when I was exploring, he-“

Before you could finish your sentence, the man stutters out an incoherent sentence and almost trips over himself running off in the other direction.

You raise an eyebrow, turning your head back to look at Zhongli who was still holding you protectively against him. He had created a small yellow meteor in his hand and was currently levitating it above his palm in a threatening manner.

He turns to you, putting the meteor away, smiling as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Zhongli, you scared him away.”

He puts on a thinking face, nodding slowly.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, no— That’s it? You probably scared the poor man into thinking you were going to murder him or somethin-”

He chuckles and raises your chin up to face him with one finger, “Then maybe next time, he should think before touching something that belongs to me.”

You huff, cheeks tinting the lightest shade of red before pushing him away.

“Whatever, I’m going now.”

You start to walk away, not before Zhongli catches your arm and stops you.

“Love, are you still angry?”

You could hear the concern in your boyfriend’s voice, and your heart softens a bit. In truth, you had already forgotten the incident back at the restaurant a few days ago and was about to apologize today when the man from before had stopped you. 

A lightbulb went off in your head, so you decide to play with him a little longer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Snatching your hand back from his grasp, you continue walking away from your surprised boyfriend.

He quickly follows you, unsure of how to continue. He couldn’t just ask you if you had been jealous, could he?

As your boyfriend got lost in his thoughts of how to ask, you almost laughed at his intense thinking face while nervously walking beside you. 

“Uh, I-,” He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you that day, I did not realize that it would have made you feel jealous.” 

He takes both of your hands in his, softly enveloping them as he continues.

“From now on, I promise that I’ll only share my stories with you, and you only, so don’t worry, love.”

He smiles at you, as you suddenly burst out in laughter. 

“What is so funny?” Zhongli asks, confused.

“Nothing, nothing at all, baby,” You finally recover from your laughing and wrap your arms around his waist.

Leaning your head against his chest, you couldn’t help but smile at the way your boyfriend thought you were upset because he was sharing his stories with another person, when you had just been jealous of another woman being so close to him. It was adorable.

Deciding not to tease him any further, you lift your head up from his chest to press a kiss against his lips. 

His eyes brighten instantly. “So, does this mean you forgive me?” 

If Zhongli was a dog, his tails would be wagging expectantly at you with puppy dog eyes right now.

You giggle, nodding at him. “Of course I forgive you, just don’t talk to other girls like that again.”

You pout, as he chuckles and leans down to give you another kiss. 

“I promise, love.” He softly strokes your hair, running the strands through his fingers.

“I also didn’t like seeing you with that man, so don’t let anyone besides me touch you, alright?”

You smile against him, nodding and opening your mouth to speak again when your stomach suddenly rumbles.

Eyes widening, you push away a now laughing Zhongli, embarrassed.

“I assume you’re hungry, my love?” He teases at you, taking your hand in his as he begins to walk the both of you back to Wangmin Restaurant.

“Who was the one who cut my meal short two days ago? I barely had anything to eat recently because I didn’t have any mora on me.” You take your hand out of his hold, crossing your arms and looking the other way.

He laughs softly at you, taking your hand back and kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Ah, you haven’t been eating welI?” He looks at you with concern laced in his golden eyes.

“I apologize, darling, but… I have something to confess to you.”

You turn to him, curious at his words. “What is it?”

“I..do not have mora on me at the moment either.”

“What?! You’re literally the god of mora, Zhongli, but you don’t even-“

He cuts you off short with a kiss, smirking against your lips as he feels you blush.

Pulling away, he chuckles and shrugs. “We can go ask Childe, come on.”

You laugh and continue walking with him, “Poor Childe, at least he’s useful for one thing.”

Zhongli lets out a laugh, as you two walk off, hand in hand, searching for your human wallet.

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 2

Modern royalty au

(Image from Pinterest)

Cowritten with @lizzygal

I'm so sorry! I made a mistake while posting this yesterday so I'm reposting it now. Hope y'all enjoy💖

Note - Since y'all liked it so much we've decided to post this fic on both ao3 and my tumblr! There will be no taglists for this however💖 You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, Mentions of previous domestic abuse.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 8k

To be fair, Steven could understand why his mother was so upset after watching the entire footage from the royal steam rooms. He had a far better understanding after having seen the footage in question. The one that had led to his mother’s reaction that very morning.

Seated beside Carol on the ride back, he slipped in his wireless earbuds and pulled up the first video he found online on his phone.

A separate car had been sent for you for whenever your meeting completed. However, he had a whole series of his own back at the palace before his day could be considered over in the administrative offices. Days were never really over for him. Should anything happen somewhere in his nation, he would be informed. As was expected for a ruler.

Until then, he had fifteen or so minutes to kill till he arrived back at the royal palace, depending on city traffic.

Which was how he found himself watching what was obviously some sort of hidden camera. As the royal banya did not have CCTV cameras. Steve found himself making a mental note to himself to ask Carol about it.

After he watched the video.

He had the feeling that this would not be going away anytime soon. Therefore, he needed to know what was on there if he was going to have to defend his actions, or even speak about it.

It was somewhat surreal watching himself walk into view wearing nothing. Not even a towel. Talking with someone who was obviously you.

Based on where the camera was located, Steve could tell it was somewhere in the hallway that led from the steam rooms into either the showers or locker room. Thank all the saints above your back was to the camera. Half of it anyway. You were standing at a turn in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Half of you hidden. A towel wrapped around your body.

Thanking those saints above still that there was no sound, Steve watched on as a voice narrated the video, some celebrity blogger dissecting the footage as if it were a pivotal moment in some sporting event.

Steve watched himself turn to face you, facing the camera too and exposing his entire self to the world.

Not that he was ashamed. He had nothing to be ashamed about. Steve was built tall and powerful like his father and mother’s father. He kept himself in shape and as for the manhood that hung heavy between his thighs, he refused to be embarrassed by that either. The blogger however did have several opinions about what she referred to as, the royal sword.

She also seemed to be very opinionated when Steve watched himself kneel down in front of you. He’d never watched himself go down on you before and found himself transfixed, easily able to ignore the blogger’s excited rambling.

For once, Steve watched your hands sink into his hair as he sank between your legs. He watched your pleasure grow and grow, he watched you sag back into the wall and reach up, grabbing at it like a cat stretching out in the hot sun.

Seeing it happen like this? Steve felt like a voyeur. He felt like he was doing something wrong. And then, he watched you climax on his face. He watched your hands tighten up against the corner of the walls meeting. He watched himself stand and no longer noticed the commentary as he sheathed himself between your legs and proceeded to pound you into the wall without mercy.

His attention caught on one little inconsequential thing. Watching one of your legs that wound over his thigh bounce wildly each time.

Quickly he exited out of the video and blog. Unwilling to watch more. Pulling a bud from his ear, he glanced over at Carol who was watching the city fly by her window.

“Have you inquired as to if the palace guard has looked into how the video was taken in the royal banya?”

Blonde hair dusted her shoulders as she looked at her king. Carol answered without a second of hesitation. “Already done Your Majesty. The camera was found this morning. A webcam of some type. It’s been sent away for fingerprints and I have the best IT professional I know looking into it, to determine if we can track down who it belongs to. The royal guard has also launched an investigation into all palace employees.”

“Thank you,” he answered her with complete sincerity.

Captain Danvers had been at his side since he assumed the throne and had proven herself hundreds of times over. She was his confidant. She was his bodyguard. She was his closest thing to a friend, if Steve could say he had such a thing. He could tell Carol anything. He had told Carol about you. Carol had told him about her sick mother and in return, Steve have given her a cottage on palace grounds while providing a nurse. So that Carol would be able to spend as much time as possible with her mother in her final days. Carol still lived on the palace grounds in that cottage down by the gardens.

“I’ll let you know when I know something,” she assured him.

***

Your return to the palace felt like it took forever. Mostly because your panties were very obviously damp from leakage and you were greatly concerned about a wet stain. The modern equivalent of a scarlet letter. Letting everyone know what you’d done.

Twice you’d checked in a bathroom along with every mirrored surface you came across.

Alas, it seemed you were in luck.

No one would know that you’d had inappropriate contact on a workday, or think you’d had an accident. Granted if someone would have noticed you planned on blaming your monthlies.

By the grace of the many women who came before you, you managed to get back to the palace without being caught and were about to go change your panties when a familiar face popped into your office.

“Hey! You’re coming! I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Wanda.

Bright red hair and a brighter red dress that was far from office appropriate appeared in your office, leaping in like an acrobat leaping onto a stage. Making you look up from where you stood behind your desk, digging through your handbag.

A bunch of different thoughts buzzed through your head.

What was Wanda talking about? Where did she want you to go? Did Wanda wear that mini-dress to work? Cause it was about five inches too short and did downright sinful things to the girls. Wanda could always pull off anything. She looked amazing in clubwear, sweats and those tea-party dresses that Jackie O was always wearing.

“Coming?” Fell from your lips in a valiant attempt to stall till you could make sense of what was happening. “What are you not taking no for an answer for this time?”

In your roommate swept like a hurricane.

“It’s practically six!” She declared, as if that was supposed to mean something to you. It had you staring at her and waiting for more information. Hands paused in their hunt for clean panties and a pantyliner in your bag’o’stuff. “No more talk of this fake boyfriend. You and me are going to go have dinner. We’re going to hit the bars to pre-game and then to the clubs! Everyone is going so you are too!”

Such news had you freezing in your patent leather pumps.

Pre-gaming? Dinner? Clubs? Everyone?

How?

It was only Thursday and then you remembered.

It was a long weekend. The winning of some great victory over the Germans from the big war that you only kinda remembered hearing about. Mostly because you’d been busy with the border issue and the education overhaul. You’d known that it was coming up and the entire four-day weekend would be spent celebrating.

Wanda saw your face. She saw what you were thinking. She was practically a mind reader. Which led her to pointing at you scoldingly. “No! No no no! No checking emails or messages. No more work. No! We’re going out tonight and we are going to have fun! You remember what fun is? Right?”

But…you really did have emails and messages to check. You actually did have a ton of work to do. Granted you always had emails and messages to check, plus work piling up. It was the nature of your job. Helping in the running of a country was a 24/7 gig.

“Wanda…”

“Nope!” She declared, marching on into your office and behind your desk to chase you out. Shooing you. Literally making you hop away and grab your handbag because you just knew Wanda wasn’t letting you back near your desk. That much was for sure.

Like a sheepdog, she herded you around your messy desk as you attempted to protest, to get her to listen, to inform her that you really really did have a good bit of work to do.

“Wait…hold on…wait, Wanda…just one second…gah!”

“No more protests! I’m not going to hear it anymore! I refuse to let you hide behind work or the fake boyfriend.”

More protests came from you. You tried. You really really did. But Wanda was shoving and pushing and hip bumping you out into a hallway that did not look like an office building, instead, it was very obviously a palace.

Your heels clicked on polished white marble that shone. Walls were cream and had priceless art hung around, gold gilded borders ran up along where the ceiling met the walls. Light fixtures were old, bronze and cut glass. Furniture that belonged in Sotheby’s was sparsely decorated around the halls.

Door were old and creaky up and down the halls, wooden with locks that required big iron keys.

It was unlike any other place you’d ever worked.

You could feel and see and even smell the smokey history oozing from the walls.

A few people were hurrying out of their offices and locking the doors behind them, which Wanda didn’t even let you do as she went on indignantly. “No! Nope! Clint from Tinder will not wait forever! He digs foreigners and he has a job and he loves to dance!”

At mention of Tinder, your gut lurched.

Dear god not this again.

Why had you ever agreed to let Wanda make you a Tinder profile? At the time it seemed so reasonable. Let her make the profile and she’d get off your ass about your alleged imaginary boyfriend. Problem solved! How on earth were you to know she’d be on the damn app making matches for you?

“Why don’t you go out with Clint from Tinder,” you wanted to know, earning yourself a roll of Wanda’s eyes as you were dragged down along the hallway to the massive marble stairs. Looking as if they’d been carved from one piece, smoothly curling down a floor to the ground floor. Large chandeliers hung with cut glass that threw light everywhere. A massive painting hung up on the large wall of a long dead large royal family in the palace of past.

“He’s not my type. But he is absolutely your type.”

Somehow you doubted that.

Sighing deeply and focusing on not snapping your ankle on the stairs and in your heels, you followed Wanda down, mixing in with the few stragglers who were leaving work and making mental notes to text Steve and let him know you’d be late coming back to the palace that night. You were then planning when you could check your work emails and work-phone messages. That had to be done in a quiet place where no one could overhear. Maybe you could go out to the club and feign a tummy ache? Then sneak away from Clint? It’d probably be much easily to sneak away from Clint than Wanda.

Click. Click. Click.

With every step you maneuvered down your heels were noisy. You’d managed to fling your sizable bag over your shoulder and just knew Steve was going to be annoyed with you. But he was an adult. Being adults meant the two of you would have to do things that you didn’t want.

“So help me, if it kills the both of us, you and I will be going out tonight and having a fun time! This is a celebratory weekend! There are festivities going on all over the city!” Wanda went on, yanking you along behind her upon reaching the bottom step and heading in the general direction of the ground floor exits.

Hurrying along behind her, you followed but you weren’t happy about it.

God did you have so much work to do and you really really wanted to spend the night with Steve. And maybe if you gave in to Wanda, she’d get off your ass about your fake boyfriend? Wait, no, your secret boyfriend, because Steve was very real, you just didn’t want to be eviscerated all over the internet and tabloids for dating a king.

You’d seen what happened when a pretty actress had dated then married a prince who didn’t rule his country. The only thing you had going for you was Steve’s country was still looked at with some serious side-eye from the world, due to past events and rulers. Plus, he wasn’t a young prince that had grown up before the eyes of the world. He was a son of a tyrant, a citizen of a sizable nation the world still viewed suspiciously with a questionable human rights record.

“You’re going to love the club! It’s totally new and they open at ten. Meaning we can have plenty of time with the girls!”

Girls?

As in plural?

Because of course this would be a group event. Wanda never half-assed anything.

“Wanda…” you began.

Before Wanda could turn her attention on you, loud shrill lady screams came and you were greeted to the sight of Maria, Okoye and Pepper. All three threw up their arms and grabbed Wanda in a big hug, yanking her away from you and freeing you from her grip.

Loud girl screeches followed.

There was group hopping and hugs and laughter.

It should have made you realize that it’d been so long since you had a fun girls night. It should have reminded you that you were young and your life shouldn’t be all about work and sneaking off with your boyfriend whenever the two of you were able to.

Your heart should have been warmed by the sight of your palace coworkers who were clearly part of the aforementioned Girls.

How long had it been since you had fun?

How long had it been since you’d had a night out on the town?

What were you doing?

Were you jumping and screeching and hugging too?

No.

You were digging into your handbag so you could text Steve real quick. To let him know about your change in plans before he began to think you’d bailed because you were a coward and got cold feet.

Just as your fingers touched the smooth surface of your iPhone…

A noise caught your attention.

Movement.

Peering up to the side at the wall, or what you’d assumed was a hallway wall since you were in another hallway nearly identical to the one upstairs. All while the hugfest continued. You noticed that the wall was at a weird angle. As if it were opening up on a hinge and by the time you realized that the wall was actually an opening to a hidden passageway, a hand grabbed your elbow and yanked you in.

No more than a soft squeak came from you.

In you tumbled.

Into a dimly lit hallway that was actually a passageway you found yourself. With a metal sounding click the wall slid back into place and a big hand fell over your mouth. Making you immediately panic, immediately reach up to grab the hand that was silencing you. Making an arm band around your chest and pull you flush back against a broad muscular body.

“Did you honestly think for one moment that I would allow you to go get drunk with Wanda? Or go to a club with a man that she met for you on Tinder?”

Steve.

It was Steve.

His faint aftershave still burnt your nose but paired with the masculine scent that was him, you relaxed only a little bit, just a smidge.

How the hell did he know all of that? Had he bugged your office? Was he following you?

Deep in your chest your heart pounded wildly. Your skin was on fire. Even though it was dimly lit, you swore you could see each nail and groove in the wooden walls of the hidden passage.

Steve’s shoes were soft on the carpeted floor. Yours however never reached. Your legs dangled. Desperately you stretched out to try and reach your toes down, but alas, Steve was holding you up and was simply that much taller than you. Easily holding you up as he carried you.

His voice an angry snarl, a seething whisp against your ear. “That is so disappointing my love. A failure on both our parts,” came his angry voice. Walking with sure footing and a quick pace through the only barely lit halls.

Turning here and there, quickly and suddenly, until you were very much lost.

A protest came from behind his palm that was crushed against your mouth. Your blood heating with every passing second till it felt as if it were boiling. All that sudden fear was turning into anger at this treatment.

“I’ve clearly failed you if you’re unable to announce with nothing but the utmost certainty that you’re both in a relationship and have no desire to go out clubbing with whomever Clint from Tinder is.” The word clubbing was spat out, as if Steve found it vile on his tongue. “As for you? Yesterday we were discussing where to go for your birthday and today, you refused to answer one of my calls! You have work to do tonight to make up to me your behavior today!”

Further down the hidden passageway you were unceremoniously carried pulled to his front. Your brain racing at warp speed.

You had work to do? You had to make up for your behavior?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Had he not seen the video of his naked nether-regions all over the internet? Or the sex that made the footage a sex tape? The two of you were now amateur porn stars and he was mad that you? Because you were trying to be lowkey until the entire situation blew over? Steve was mad because you were being reasonable?

A most valiant attempt was made to free yourself.

You struggled. You kicked. You flailed and shrilled behind the hand over your mouth. No longer taken by surprise or frightened. Now you were growing angry.

On top of being terrified of being found out in that footage and ridiculed by the world, or worse, chased out of this country by a horde of angry people who didn’t agree with you being the kings choice as not only a foreigner, but one from pretty humble roots. You were upset that the world saw such an intimate moment between the two of you and even if Steve didn’t care that his junk was all over the internet, you cared. You cared a great deal. The royal junk was your junk. It was bad enough you had to know he’d dated women before you who’d seen him nude and were intimate with him, but now the world? It was simply too much for you to comprehend.

Steve slowed and turned, using his elbow he made something pop and a slight crack of light where there was obviously another hidden door in the wall appeared.

Using his broad shoulder, Steve pushed the door open and stepped out into a hallway that led down to the royal chambers and split off.

With his knee, he shoved the hidden panel shut and tightening his grip on you, Steve hurried down that hallway.

A completely different one from where the administrative offices were located.

Rich wooden paneling covered the walls. Making everything appear warmer, lusher. An amber haze hung in the air.

Thick carpet was underfoot. Furniture spoke to its age but had been made with a quality that endured. Like this palace. Built when his land was called something else but had stood through time in proof of his claim to the throne.

Generations before him had ruled, claimed spouses and lovers in these halls, grown old and made history and now it was his turn.

Merely that knowledge had him growing excited in his slacks for a second time that day. All of your thrashing and struggling didn’t help. If anything, it sparked a part of his brain that insisted he ravish and conquer you in his royal bed.

Mouth pressed to your ear, till he felt amber and diamonds press against his lips. “I swear, I will spend the rest of tonight inside of you until things are as they were yesterday. Until you remember that when I speak to you in any manner, you answer. Considering how thoroughly you’ve consumed every last part of me, it is only fair.”

And then, in his slowed pace down the hall ever closer to the door that would lead into Steve’s Royal Apartment, he saw a portrait up on the wall that made him pause.

It was him.

Or his portrait from when he’d turned thirty.

There he stood looking down at you both. Dressed ceremonially in his crown, holding the traditional ruling scepter and wearing the robes from kings of past. Fur, jeweled toned fabric that he’d easily filled out with gold adornments, amber buttons and pipping on his shoulders.

What was most striking about this portrait compared to all the others of Steven throughout the palace, was he was alone in it and unlike all the others, at the time, he’d not been single.

Further making that internal fire burn hotter.

Making him stop and force you to look up at it with him. Framed in a gilded bronze heirloom. Up where he had to look at it to be reminded of what could have been.

“Look! Look!”

You stopped struggling and looked, were well aware of his mouth against your hair.

“See? See it? You could have been there with me. At my side. Wearing my crown. Wearing the robes and jewels of my grandmothers. My queen.”

And indeed you saw.

When you’d seen the finished portrait, you had been blown away at how your body reacted to the sight of your lover in his traditional uniform he only pulled out for big special events. How powerful he looked. How sexy he was wearing a crown, holding a golden scepter with an eagle on the end clutching a piece of amber the size of an egg.

The arm around your chest fell so he could point at the empty space in the picture beside him. “Look. Right there. That is where you would have been. Right there. At my side.”

His hand over your mouth still held you flush against him. Pulled tight against him.

That thought, that entire notion of you painted on a portrait, up there with Steve at his side. It was so surreal to you.

When it was just you and Steve it was fire and gold and everything was amazing. When it was King Steve and his Chief of Staff it was stimulating and exciting. You still weren’t sure about being queen. A queen! That wasn’t like being a princess or a duchess. A queen was different. Even the word felt different.

It made your heart start to pound wildly in your chest again. It made you breathe hard against the back of his hand. It made you have a physiological reaction.

***

This was not how Carol intended to spend her night.

It was not how she wished to start her off-time. Having given Val the update on all things that had transpired for the day as she handed off command of the Royal Guard to her fellow captain.

No sooner had she told Val everything, did one of the messengers from communications come hurrying in. A slip of paper in her hand. A note that changed everything for that night, that week and even that month.

It had left Carol walking through the royal apartments towards the Queen Mother’s rooms.

As she knew exactly what King Steven was doing and quite frankly, she wanted no part in disturbing that unless she absolutely had to.

Besides. The message that had been sent to the palace via royal envoy was meant for Her Majesty. It was best Her Majesty the Queen Mother figured out how best to deal with this coming…situation.

Compared to His Majesty’s Private Rooms, Sarah’s were all light and brightness. White marble and ornate touches. Colorful priceless paintings and large bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases. Soft plush furniture held little personal touches. A white chenille throw draped over her couch by a fireplace. Pink slippers sat on the floor. Books both new and ancient with various markers holding her place were scattered about. Fresh flowers. She loved fresh flowers. They were everywhere.

As expected, the door to the Queen Mother’s apartments were open.

Carol still paused outside of it to knock gently.

“Your Majesty?” She called out, looking at her watch to see that it was nearing seven. Around seven was when the queen took her dinner meal privately. Of course she’d leave the door open for kitchen staff to bring up food as usual. It wasn’t one of the nights that was reserved for Steve and his mother to have their dinners together.

After the death of her husband the former king, Sarah had effectively thrown open all the doors that he had imprisoned her with.

Her soft voice drifted out.

Delicate and gentle.

The Queen Mother sat in a large chair by a big window overlooking the city. Her pale hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A string of pearls tightened and loosened around her fingers as she lowered the book she’d been reading. A pleasant smile came over her soft features.

Upon seeing the stone of Carol’s face, the queen frowned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Only confirming that something was wrong, Carol shut the door and locked it.

Dinner had been brought up. Smells emanated from the queens private dining room off to the left. It reminded Carol that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. It had been that kind of a day.

Clasping her hands before her, she rocked back on her heels. “A message was sent by Her Highness Janet Van Dyne. She and her daughter will be at the palace tomorrow…”

Janet and Hope Van Dyne?

Steven’s former fiancée and her mother?

Two golden eyebrows rose, making Carol press on. “Her Highness is under the impression that they’ll be staying here? In the palace?”

All of this was new to Sarah.

She had not heard from Janet since Steve’s coronation. When she and her husband had been in attendance. Earlier that particular year, Hope had broken her engagement with Steven to run away with a Maharaja.

It’d been all over the tabloids.

A young princess of the Netherlands had broken her engagement to the crown prince of an incredibly traditional nation to follow her heart. Hope had spent many years splashed across tabloids and blogs with a handsome charismatic Asian Prince. She’d lost her royal title and gave tell-all interviews about how her family had forbade her from running away and how she’d never marry a man from infamous Rogers Royal Line. And then, oddly, she was back home with her family this year.

Sarah had found it unusual. Alas, she was a busy woman with a life of her own to keep her busy.

“Was anything else in the message,” Sarah wanted to know.

Carol shook her head.

It had been a simple message that was very to the point.

Sighing in a most un-Sarah-like sort of way. She set her book down on the arm of her chair and rose. Tall. Willowy. Pursing her lips. Her dress fell around her in a gauzy cloud.

“Do you want me to tell His Majesty?”

Pausing, the older women considered the question. Dare she tell her son? He deserved to know. Nothing good would come from this visit.

If it were Janet alone? Sarah would not be so suspicious. But Janet and Hope? And that they would come so last minute? After the release of this video footage from the royal sauna?

“Is my son with her?”

Silence.

Carol was quiet.

A noise came from the Queen Mother. A clicking of her tongue. Stepping into her slippers, she pulled the hem of her dress up. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you would keep this from me.”

More quiet came.

“I won’t ask. I’ll find out my own way and leave him be for now. Janet and Hope won’t be here tonight. This can be a problem for tomorrow, today has been difficult enough for us all. Let tomorrow be tomorrow.”

Let tomorrow be tomorrow.

On her other hand was her wedding band. A treasure itself. Now on the widow’s finger. It was so symbolic of the cage she’d lived in for the duration of her marriage.

Absentmindedly, she twisted the rings. “Have you eaten yet?” Pulling them up and down her hand. “I had hoped you would come. I had the kitchen bring up extra.” Off slipped the rings that she had to wear in public. In her hand they jingled until she set them down on a smoothly polished table.

With two heavy clicks, they bounced on the wood by a vase full of peonies. Freeing her for the time being.

“I missed you while you were away.”

A blush bloomed over her porcelain complexion at Carol’s words.

As she watched Carol lock the door to her chambers, a warmth bloomed within her chest. Such words were so simple. So honest. They were words she had not heard before in her life. In this new chapter however, in this new time in her life, she had become accustomed to kind words and compassion.

“I missed you as well.” She confessed, stepping closer and still keeping space between them. As some habits died hard. “Stay with me? Tonight?”

“There is nothing I want more, Sarah.”

***

As it turned out, now you were ready to talk.

However.

Unfortunately.

Steve was now past that point and was on a whole other page.

You found yourself protesting when he carried you into his bedroom like some manner of caveman would carry a slab of meat. Shrilling out when he yanked and ripped and tore at your dress, forcing it over your head after ripping fabric and popping buttons, till it was an unsalvageable heap of material and threads.

Which was an absolute tragedy.

You loved that dress.

You even pointed out that fact to him somewhere between the threshold of his bedroom and his massive bed that really was fit for a king.

It was so big!

A headboard wider than Wanda’s itty-bitty car was long. An elaborate collection of regal flourishes and shapes. Dark sheets so soft they were slippery awaited you as you screeched and hollered, letting out an outraged sound when your bra was popped then yanked roughly from you.

“Steven!” You admonished your king, toes digging deep into the thick carpet as you’d lost your shoes back in the hallway leading to his quarters.

This whole evening was going off the rails for you. There was no other way to put it.

Dim sconces on the wall lit the way. Highly effective mood lighting if you ever saw it. Allowing you to see the set in Steve’s face, the firm line of his mouth.

His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck so he could hold you close, ground out for your benefit. “All day long I tried. Calls. Messages. Texts. Did you want to talk? No. You ignored me. Now I do not wish to talk either.”

Pushing you forward, you found yourself stumbling but knew if you didn’t walk on your own, Steve would merely toss you up on his bed. Up on the sea of pillows. Framed by gilded silver and dark curtains that came down from above to allow for privacy.

“All day long you denied me. I’ll remind you what is mine until you’re thinking clearly again. Until we’re back where we were yesterday!”

“I’m ready to talk now! I’m in a place where I can discuss this with you! I am thinking clearly!”

Words were not needed.

Oh no.

Not when the king grabbed your hand, pulled your arm back and pressed your palm against his straining erection. Hot to the touch. Shockingly hard. Painfully so even you were willing to bet.

Your knees hit the bed and you were pushed forward till you fell over, till you wound up on the expanse of bedding in a tangle of hands and knees and that silky smooth material.

A big explosion came from Steve. Feeling like and you were flailing on your stomach, trapped beneath his oppressive weight and the bed. Fighting. Wiggling. Trying to get free from beneath him but bigger stronger arms had your wrists.

Something was being wrapped around your wrists that you couldn’t see, as your vision was impeded by the broad chest in your face. Right there. Blocking your line of sight. Pinning you down to the sea of grey until finally, finally, he was up and you were once more struggling, wiggling, jerking and finding that you were tied to the headboard.

You were tied to the headboard. You were naked and bound to his bed.

Silky fabric that was Steve’s tie bound your wrists snugly together and wove into the headboard, securing you there most soundly.

It was outrageous! It was absurd!

You were tied to his headboard!

It was a first for you.

When your gaze returned to your boyfriend and even that was now a bit questionable, you were greeted to the sight of Steve shedding his suit. Yanking off each garment without pause or care. A few tears were heard and he was far rougher than need be. A button or two may have flown off.

“You cannot be serious! That’s your plan? You’re going to take what’s yours? Are you serious? This is not the dark ages!”

Ignoring you, Steve shoved his slacks down his long legs. Allowing his rigid cock to bob obscenely. Causing an eyeroll to immediately come from you. A hint of something dark on his hip caught your eye. But it was only a flash and as he was moving, yanking off his suit jacket and fiercely ripping open buttons on his shirt, you couldn’t get a good look.

Was it a bruise? A tattoo?

Somehow you doubted kings were even allowed to have tattoos. Or that Steve even had the time to get himself permanently inked. When the hell did he get that bruise?

Momentarily distracted by him climbing up on the bed, you looked up to give your bindings a good hard yank.

No luck.

Steve’s weight was pushing you down. Shoving you into the bed. Pinning you down as you protested, implored and began to plea. Which was exactly what he wanted. After everything you had put him through today? You would beg. You would plead. You would forget all about that video.

“Open your mouth.”

It was an order.

It could be nothing less.

An absolute command that had your lips slowly parting as your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden treatment, this roughness. Steve held his painful erection in hand and pushed his tip to your lips. Pushed the red end of his cock sticky with precum past your lips. Till you were forced to open your mouth wider and wider for him. To take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Steve held your gaze and pushed his member in further. Straddling your chest and gripping his headboard in one hand, till it dug into his fingers. While his other hand grabbed your face to hold it tight.

You’d never be able to take all of him. He knew this. You’d never been able to no matter how much you’d tried. But he wanted to see how much he could fit in your mouth tonight.

“Don’t swallow. Don’t let me down again.”

Your mouth was so warm closing around him. Wet. Sacred. It made him want to close his eyes to sink in deep but Steve would not. He would do that soon enough. He would lose himself in your cunt soon enough.

A few small movements from his hips sank his cock deeper into your mouth. Filling your cheeks as you struggled. Until you found a motion of moving up and down his length, running your tongue along his sides. Wetting up his shaft till sloppy noises started to fill his ears and a small little dribble began to moisten the corners of your mouth.

Those blue eyes remained set on your own. Never once showing you mercy.

“Tomorrow. In the future. If I call or text, you will answer.”

There was no follow-up. Nor was it a question.

Long fingers that belonged on an artist or musician sank into your hair tightly.

All you could do was nod as drool rolled down your chin and you suckled his cock like you would a popsicle, without swallowing, sucking on his sensitive flesh as he liked and without the aid of your own hands to steady his member.

It was glorious and Steve could only slightly appreciate it. As the words that fell from his mouth were more important, more vital.

Feeling how wet your mouth was getting was fantastic. Absolutely. Your nimble tongue was a gift. No one had ever sucked his cock like you.

However…he was still frustrated, still angry, still hurt even.

He’d not worked his way through those feelings as of yet.

Perhaps? In your body?

Those feelings teased and taunted him with his unworthiness. Of how you hadn’t been firmer with your roommate. How you had allowed her to drag you down the stairs for a night out with possibly another man? It infuriated him. It sent his hips rocking into your mouth. It had his cock rubbing up along the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

No.

Steve would not lose you. He loved you too much to even entertain such a notion. No. Infact, he would make sure that he ruined you. By the end of the night, he would make certain that you’d never even amused the notion of being set up. He would be completely sure that when you left his chambers come morning, you would never be doubted when you told Wanda or anyone that you had a partner.

“I want to start publicly courting you. I want to be engaged this year. I do not want to hide any longer. When people look at you, I want them to know that you belong to me.”

Noises came around his cock that Steve knew were words and he did not care.

“Look at yourself.” Steve stilled, his words harsh, bitter even. “You have my cock in your mouth and I am completely at your mercy. Tied to the bed of kings because I cannot go one night without dreaming of you, fantasizing about your tight cunt and smooth skin. I would give you the world and all you want is nothing. You are the worst type of infuriating.”

As if to prove his point, he steadily pumped his pelvis up into your mouth. Each slide in pushed saliva and pre-ejaculate out, making it ooze from the seal of your lips around his erection. Against your throat his wet balls bounced. His ass rested on your chest and he could not get enough. More. He wanted more. He needed more. Craved more.

The urge to go harder was strong.

Steve wanted so badly to fuck you. To make you feel how much you drove him mad. How you caused him physical pain from longing alone.

With drool smeared down your chin and neck, never looking more beautiful in his opinion, Steve pulled his dick out. Done with your mouth for now. Needing more. Needing to grab your tits and to be closer to your face, looking closer into your eyes.

In a familiar sort of way, your throat bobbed.

“Did you just swallow when I specifically told you not to?”

A moment of hesitation followed from you that had Steve gripping your face, easing his body down yours but holding your slippery chin tight in his grip. Your eyes were wide. Again, probably without even realizing, you swallowed in nervousness.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what,” he demanded, leaning down closer, licking the wetness from your chin and earning from you a most satisfying shiver that wracked your body.

“S-s-sorry, Your Majesty.”

His tongue was hot and wet on your chin. His body was heavy and hot on your own. Skin on skin contact made your brain short circuit. It was a miracle you could string those syllables together. With your hands bound so snugly to the bed. All you could do was take it. Take what he gave you.

Feeling him push your thighs open and position himself between your hips made you gasp. Words failed you.

And then words didn’t even matter because he was pushing into you. Claiming you. Taking what was his because you did belong to him. You belonged to him in every possible way.

A scream exploded out of you when he dove right in. Sank in till his crown was pressed up against the wall of your cervix. Deeper than anyone had ever been before. Hands were grabbing your ankles and spreading you wide. Spearing you on his cock. Stretching your body taut.

“So wet. You were made to take me. Made to take your king.” He whispered more to himself even though you heard. You would have heard a pin drop. You could hear your heart pound and blood rush through your ears, each gasp your lungs took. You could feel every last inch of him deep inside your core. Painfully stretching you open like this. Burning. Tingling. Twisting.

Hands tightened on your ankles till you looked up at Steve. Hovering over you like a pillaging warlord about to ravish his prize.

“You have till Monday to decide how you wish us to become public. I will not wait a day longer.”

Seeing you like this before him. Splayed out. Your pussy curled around his member, plump from being filled with your breasts round puddles up on your chest. It set his hips into a frenzy. Powerful thrusts were sent into your tight walls that made Steve grunt every time from the power behind his motions, from the sight of his cock vanishing up into you. Watching your pussy take him so hungrily as you cried out beneath him each time. Breasts swaying. Skin slapping on skin with the contact. Your hips jiggled, his headboard creaked, his balls slapped soundly against you both.

“Say it. Say the words to me. Say them!” Steve commanded you. Pieces of his hair falling and sticking to his sweaty forehead as he sank in to the very depths of you then pulled out, revealing a glistening shaft before slamming his member right back in where it belonged.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” you chanted, over and over, again and again with every thrust in, every withdraw that was like heaven and hell, your body needing him to complete this circuit only the two of you could create. “…yes…yes…my king…yes my king…”

Those words. They were a song to his ears and had your ankles slapped together. Those words had the backs of your thighs slapped wetly against his chest, your feet touching his shoulder as Steve continued to pound into you.

Pumping into your now closed thighs, into your tighter walls at this angle.

“Look!”

Dimly your eyes fluttered, you looked into his burning blue eyes.

“Look. Here.”

You followed his gaze to where he pointed, looking down at his pelvis, where his hip met his abdomen in that hard cut of muscle that was visible above his beltline. The one you loved to lick.

He did have a tattoo.

It took you a second to realize what you were looking at and focus, as his thrusts continued without mercy, pounding away, slamming into you without mercy. Shaking and pushing you into his bed.

Your writing was inked into his skin. Your very own signature.

Your name was forever scrawled into Steve’s skin and then, it hit you. Your climax took you by complete surprise. Your entire body went stiff. A pained noise came from you and you shattered all around his cock. Fingernails dug into your palm and you stared at your name in cruel ecstasy.

Steve fell too. You could tell from his thrusts getting wild, falling out of sync. You could tell because he swore out, clenched his face and held your thighs tight to his chest.

Pumping deeply into you while your body milked him for everything he had to give.

Making him merely a man in that moment with you.

Up on his headboard, you were tightly secured and would soon have bruises from arching up against the silk tie restraining you. Unable to do anything but feel and accept what your king was giving you. On your back. In a bed that past kings had slept in.

None of which was lost on you.

Not as your body felt leaden, filled with molten hot lava. Limp. Your secret garden continued to suck him in, clench around him and spasm, making your eyes roll up in your head, your body dig into his bed and words fall from your mouth.

In a most dignified sort of manner, your king humped into your body like a jack rabbit, chasing the last vestiges of his climax with coral wet lips and dark honey hair now damp with sweat.

A sight for your satiated eyes.

“Let me call my mother in the morning.” You breathed out slowly, as if figuring out how your lungs worked once more after a marathon. Your words making Steve still above you. Though your cunt did not. It twitched around his royal girth and you met his gaze from on his pillows. “Tomorrow you can have Maria release a statement saying whatever you want. Just let me tell my parents myself. They should hear from me that I’m not coming home.”

Whatever wind that may have held up his sails had clearly been withdrawn.

Almost tenderly now, Steve leaned forward to quickly loosen the silk around your wrists and free your hands from his headboard. Stretching out his long powerful body above you. Flushed red now. Glistening. Though he left his tie there. He remained inside of you too. Filling you and stretching you full.

Gently, he pushed your legs down until they wrapped around him and he was able to rest his weight most carefully on top of you. Pressing wet kisses to your nose, your cheeks and chin. Worshipping your face with delicate touches and caresses.

“I’ll fly them out here whenever you want. When we get back from Switzerland, I’ll have them waiting for you.”

Softly you answered, reveling in his softness now that your body had been given her reward, her treat, her pleasure from his roughness. Smelling the musk of his sweat and feeling the wet glide between your bodies.

Leisurely, your hands found their way up his muscular arms to his shoulders. “You know what I mean. I won’t ever be their daughter again. I won’t ever be Wanda’s roommate. I’ll have to quit my job. Nothing will ever be the same.”

Those words, well, they settled uncomfortably in him.

All of them were true.

You would be giving up so much. He would have to make sure to take care of you even more so, keep a closer eye on you. He would need to have a talk with his mother come morning.

“That’s true,” Steve softly conceded, rubbing his nose along your own. Barely grazing his lips over yours. A hint of a tongue touched you before his breath danced over your mouth. “We would be together though. Finally together. You. Me. Not hiding anymore.”

Speaking of hiding.

That word alone had you pulling away from his mouth to lean to the side, to get a look down at his Adonis belt. At the alluring groove that led down to his pubes where your name was now in black.

Nay, your signature.

As if sensing what you were after, your boyfriend tilted up a smidge. Enough for you to see but not enough for him to leave your body. Pray tell that couldn’t happen.

“When did you do this?”

“Do you like it,” Steve asked, as if your opinion mattered. Which was laughable considering how permanent it was.

He’d literally took your signature and had it tattooed on his body.

“Of course I love it. Now you have a part of me on you all the time.” An incredibly modern take on Steve’s royal jewel gift thing, but in reverse you thought. Then grinned as it sank in. “I can’t believe you did it though.”

Why wouldn’t he have done it?

Steve hadn’t thought twice when Maria had gone on about getting her late mother’s writing tattooed on her side, in a lasting forever tribute. Having your writing on him at all times had been an idea that hadn’t left him. Not until he’d had a tattoo artist praised for their work brought to the palace late the other night.

He wasn’t even going to lie, king or not, there was something downright satisfying about having something like this hidden on his body from all. Known only by you and him. A secret only for you two.

Bringing him right back to the thought that the biggest secret the two of you shared would soon be out.

Soon it would be public knowledge and that had Steve brushing his fingertips over your cheeks, kissing the swell of your cheekbone and moving ever just so to make a small moan come from you. “You’ll never regret this. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’ll devote myself to making you happy. You’ll never regret becoming my queen.”

[spookyspecterino]

HI! My name is Bruna and I'd die of happiness if you wrote anything (text, little story, headcanons, whatever you have time for) about Bruno and a Bruna's little romance ❤

Thanks a lot for your time!! You're an amazing writer ❤

I'm sorry this took so long to answer, I've been in writer's block hell for like a week. Good news is that I've managed to drag and crawl my way out..

While I usually don't take requests I absolutely can't say no to doing some headcanons.

I also added two little short blurbs because writing small, stress free bits gives me joy.

I hope you like!

A Few Bruno HeadCanons:

When Bruno was first interested in you, he was very nervous all the time when you were near. He would shuffle his feet and grab at his arm, generally avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground.

But that doesn’t mean he avoided looking at you altogether. He would sneak glances at you, little quick ones. If you turned away or were focusing on something in a different direction he would stare for longer, trying to memorize your gestures and the way you moved.

He loves the way you dress, the colors you choose and how you do your hair, he has no idea how you can be so effortlessly beautiful all the time. You have the ability to take his breath away with a single glance, a smile will cause his mind to go blank.

Every time you speak, he does his best to memorize your voice, the sound of it dropping or raising when you were excited about something. He loses his train of thought whenever he hears you laugh. He would do anything to make you laugh again so he can hear the sweet noise.

When he’s alone in his tower he imagines scenarios with you. He can’t stop thinking about you or thinking about the next time you’ll be around him. He lives for the moments that you share with him. He’ll make excuses to go into town to try and catch a glimpse of you.

As time went on and you were around Bruno more often, he would gradually be less nervous, less flighty. He would relax himself, letting his shoulders drop or his eyes linger on yours.

Introducing you to his rats was accidental, they ran up to as you walked through the Madrigal’s home. Bruno froze with fear, afraid that you would run screaming from the house, but you picked one up and smiled widely. He watched as your eyes lit up in delight and you talked to them with a baby voice. After that he took time to introduce every last one of them, you loved every second.

The first time he described one of his rat telenovelas he was very, very nervous; terrified that you would think he was strange. Instead, you surprised him by paying close attention and asking questions. You were smiling at him encouragingly and he felt as if his heart was going to burst from happiness.

He doesn’t like PDA, he still gets very self-conscious around people outside of you and his family, but he’ll show his affection in others way out in public. He’ll brush up against your arm sweetly, or graze his hand against yours while trying to catch your eye. He’ll stand really close to you, not exactly touching you, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body. If you hold his hand in public, he’ll get extra shy, fluster easily, and constantly blush.

He can never truly describe how it makes him feel to have you next to him, to know that you care about him. He’ll do small things to show you that he cares too, like surprise you with flowers, or slip a love letter under your door. His favorite thing to do is to slip little polished bits of green glass (like small jewels) in places you’ll find them later. He’d sit in his tower and imagine your reaction when you found them.

You have to initiate your first kiss with Bruno but after the first few times he’ll gain the confidence to kiss you whenever he feels like it, and he wants to kiss you all the time. He’ll hardly ever do it in front of his family, but he’ll steal you away into another room in order to kiss you, leading you away and then quickly turning around to cup your face in his hands and press his lips to yours.

Absolutely loves to cuddle with you, he’ll wrap his arms around you in bed and find any excuse to keep you close to him. His favorite thing to do is for you to sit in front of him and he’ll hold you from behind as you lean back against his chest. Occasionally, you’ll tilt your head back to look up at him and try to kiss the underside of his chin, making him laugh every time.

And for the small blurbs~

Bruno held the flowers tightly in one hand, he stopped and turned around to pace in front of your door. He had rehearsed this for days, but his nerves were getting the better of him now.

“(Y/N), will you… do me the honors...? Hm- no.” He sighed before continuing his rehearsed words quietly under his breath. “It would make me the happiest man in Encanto if… -I would be the happiest man in all of…” He chewed his lip, looking up at the darkening sky.

Bruno was preparing himself to ask you on a date for the first time and his nerves were an absolute mess. He had been working his way up to this moment for at least a month, since he realized his feelings for you were much more than just friendly. Since then, he could hardly eat, barely sleep; every waking moment he spent thinking of you, thinking about having you all to himself. The thoughts were a double-edged sword as his insecurities would eventually creep in, but he couldn’t let that get in the way now.

As he whispered ‘knock on wood’ under his breath light splashed against the ground illuminating Bruno’s back. He spun around to see your outline against the light from inside your home, his heart skipping a beat.

“Oh, Bruno!” You greeted, happily surprised to see him. You had a rag in your hands that you were using to dry a bowl, sleeves pulled up around your elbows and your hair tied back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked sweetly.

He could only stare as all the thoughts in his head went blank and he forgot everything he practiced. Even if you were only wearing your everyday clothes and an apron you still looked stunning to him. Loose strands of hair stuck out of your ponytail and framed your face, and he wished he could reach out and brush them back behind your ear. He could vividly imagine himself walking up to you, taking the bowl from you and setting it down, grabbing you by the hips and pressing you into the door frame. Placing his forehead to yours before learning down and kissing your soft lips, feeling how warm and delicate were against him, hearing your breath hitch as he slid his tongue into your mouth, pushing you into the wooden frame with his body against yours-

“Bruno…?” You asked him gently with a puzzled smile.

He blinked with widening eyes, yanked from his thoughts. He realized he was blushing madly and stammered “Oh, yes- um… these are for y-you.” He held out the flowers to you with a shy smile.

Taking them, you smelled the delicate bundle with a blissful expression. Bruno wished he was a more confident man as his thoughts threatened to stray back into daydreams, his eyes glancing at the door frame of your home.

“Lilac, my favorite. Thank you.” Your beaming expression threatened to derail him into a stumbling mess.

He cleared his throat. “(Y/N), I came to see you tonight, to ask if you would- if you’d like to- go on a date with me?”

Your smile grew from ear to ear as your eyes filled with light. “I’ve been waiting for you to-“ you stopped yourself, stumbling over your words as you struggled to control your feelings of joy “Yes! Yes, of course Bruno, I would love to!”

He let out a shaky breath of relief “I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes, I thought-“. But your running hug cut him off mid-sentence.

“I really like you, Bruno.” You whispered into his neck as you pulled him close.

Feeling your breath against his skin sent shivers through him, your hair tickled his nose and lips and he smiled softly, letting go of any doubts he had about tonight. His warm hands gently slid across your back as he pulled you close, pressing his face into your shoulder, breathing in your sweet smell. He wished he could stay like this forever.

XXX

“Bruno, mi amor, please stand still.” You asked with a hint of impatience coloring your voice.

“Lo siento, lo siento.” He mumbled in response as you adjusted the collar of his white button-down shirt, shifting his tie a little to the left.

It was Julieta’s wedding day and Bruno shuffled nervously in place, uncomfortable and self-conscious in anything that wasn’t his ruana. His eyes avoided the mirror when you stepped back to look at him and you gave him a soft look.

“Qué pasa?” You asked him gently.

He cast his eyes to the ground “I’m nervous, I don’t want to mess anything up like Pepa’s wedding and-“

“Bruno…” you coaxed. “You didn’t do anything wrong at Pepa’s wedding, and I promise, I will be with you the entire time.”

He squeezed your hand a little, giving you a tiny smile. “Thank you, (Y/N). I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Well, you’d have to ask your mother fix your tie, and she probably wouldn’t be as gentle.” You joked lightly, stepping close to him to mess with the stubborn piece of cloth once again. You felt Bruno’s chuckle against your face before his hand reached up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“Te amo.” He whispered as his fingers lingered against the skin of your cheek.

You looked up at him with a smile “I love you too.”

Bruno’s other hand came up to hold your face in his palm. His eyes were full of love and affection as he looked down at you, your hands pressed against his warm chest. You stretched up to close the distance between your mouth and his, feeling Bruno smile into the kiss as you did so. Sighing softly, he held your head in his hands gingerly, pulling you closer to him. When his doubts and insecurities threatened to overwhelm him, he could always count on your help, your calming presence and comforting, soft words of reassurance.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, rubbing his soft skin and brushing through his dark curls. When Bruno twisted his mouth to deepen the kiss you protested weakly.

“Bruno…” you jokingly grumbled with a loving smile through his continued kissing, “We’ll be late-“

He didn’t slow, and his arms moved down to wrap around your waist, pulling you over toward the bed. You had trouble resisting as you felt his fingers gripping you tightly.

He grunted gently and whispered against your lips, pulling you down onto the bed with him “Then let us be a little late…”

[arrowflier]

Lovely Arrow, a random plot bunny appeared and I just know you could do it justice: what if Franny has some friends over at Mickey and Ian's place when she's older and one of them is new to the group and wants to learn a little more about her uncles? And Franny starts waxing poetic about how they're made for each other and complement each other so well and both Ian and Mickey overhear and it makes them tear up a little. Just a thought 😋🥰

Evie, thank you! I've decided that Franny's friends love her uncles almost as much as she does, so that's kind of where this went.

---

“Why are we here again?” Tiffany asks as they crowd onto the stoop of the little southside worker’s cottage. Franny doesn’t bother to answer as she knocks on the door, but one of the other girls takes pity.

“It’s her Uncle’s house,” Susan says. “Jesus, Tiff, pay attention.”

Well, not too much pity. There was a reason she’d never been invited before, after all.

“Yikes, Suze,” Tiffany mutters with a frown. “I just meant why weren’t we at her actual house.”

“Because my actual house is loud as shit,” Franny finally chimes in, not even looking back. “My mom gets lonely so we live with like three other families, it’s a nightmare for schoolwork.”

“You’d have known that if you paid any attention,” Susan adds, and they all ignore Tiffany’s pout.

It doesn’t last long anyway, because the door creaks open not a moment later.

“Hey Fran,” Ian says from the other side. His hair is longer than usual right now, and looks windswept—or like someone had been carding hands through it all morning. His shirt was tight-fitting and a little too short, like it didn’t belong to him, and the socks on his feet didn’t match.

“Hey Uncle Ian,” Franny greets, then gestures to her friends. “It still cool if we take over the living room for a bit? This group paper is a beast.”

“Of course,” Ian agrees with a wide smile. “Anything to help my favorite niece.” He opens the door wider to let them in.

“Nice to see you all again,” he says as they start to file inside. “John, Rachel,” he greets them individually. “Susan, that new haircut is fantastic, I told you it would be.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gallagher,” Susan says with a grin, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

Ian grimaces at her, playfully.

"Ian, please," he begs. "I've never met a Mr. Gallagher I didn't want to punch."

Susan giggles, and moves inside.

“I don’t think I’ve met you,” Ian says with a thoughtful frown when it's Tiffany's turn, and Franny jumps in with an introduction.

“Uncle Ian, this is Tiff,” she says. “She got put with us for the project.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ian says, and holds out a hand.

Tiffany takes it, and when Ian lets go, her hand just hovers there.

“Make yourselves at home,” Ian says as he closes the door behind them. “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything, but—

“Try not to need anything,” they all chorus, with the exception of Tiffany.

“Good kids,” Ian laughs, and then he’s gone, disappearing through the archway that leads through to the rest of the house.

They settle quickly. John and Rachel take the love seat, as they’re always wont to do, sitting just a little too close. Rachel giggles as their knees brush, and Franny rolls her eyes at John’s blush.

She takes her own usual spot next to Susan on the floor, notebooks spread out across the ottoman, and startles when Tiffany suddenly appears on her other side.

“Dude,” Tiffany hisses, poking Franny in the shoulder. “Your uncle is so hot.”

Franny frowns, staring down at the wrinkle Tiffany left on her sleeve.

“Yeah,” she says idly as she smooths it. “So I’ve heard.”

“I mean I mean I always thought red hair looked weird--no offence," she tacks on hastily, "but it really works for him."

Franny focuses on arranging her things to avoid smacking Tiffany in the face.

"Does he have a girlfriend?” Tiffany asks, biting her lip. She toys with the ends of her over-crimped hair, bright nail polish flashing between blonde strands.

“No,” Franny answers, and doesn’t give Tiffany any time to think about that before adding, “he has a husband.”

Tiffany pouts, shimmery pink lips sticking out comically. Franny exchanges a look with Susan, who mimics the expression in a way that has Franny trying to swallow her laughter.

“So not fair,” Tiffany whines beside them, crossing her arms. “Why are all the cute ones taken?”

“Hey!” John protests from across the room, but they all ignore him except for Rachel, who hits him with her three-ring binder.

“Mickey would probably kill you for looking at him,” Susan chimes in, “so you should probably keep your eyes to yourself anyway.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agrees, even as she rubs John’s arm in apology. “He’s been to jail, you know.”

“Ew,” Tiffany says, wrinkling her nose. “There’s no way he deserves someone like Ian, then.”

Franny grips her pencil too tightly. Susan sends her a warning look, but she ignores it.

“Actually,” she says casually, hiding her irritation, “they’re perfect for each other.”

Tiffany‘s brow wrinkles.

“No way,” she disagrees. “You Uncle seems so sweet, he deserves someone nice at least.”

Franny’s pencil snaps.

“Shit, she’s done it now,” John mutters.

“Uncle Mickey is nice,” Franny grits out between clenched teeth. “He’s a hell of a lot nicer than you, actually.”

“Franny—” Rachel tries to interrupt, but Susan cuts in over her.

“She’s not wrong,” Susan says. “You’re in the man’s home, Tiff, have a little tact.”

“Besides,” John speaks up, “Mickey is great. He helped me with my math homework last week.”

“Come on!” Tiffany cries. “There’s no way some ex-con should be married to that hunk out there.”

“Ian’s an ex-con too, though,” Susan says. “Right, Fran?”

Franny smiles.

“That’s right,” she confirms gleefully. “They were in jail together, actually.”

Tiffany pales.

“No way,” she mumbles, but they aren’t done.

“Yeah, it’s the most romantic story!” Rachel all but squeals. “Mickey wasn’t even in the country, but he heard Ian needed him and he came right back!”

“They’d been together for like, years already,” John contributes. “High school sweethearts or something like that.”

Rachel latches onto him at that, and he flushes again.

“And they take such good care of each other,” Susan adds. “Last time I was here Ian wasn’t feeling too good, and Mickey made us all be quiet so he could sleep. Then I helped him make some soup, ‘cause he isn’t good at that stuff.”

Tiffany is biting her lip again, staring at them each in turn.

“But Ian seems so—”

“In love with his husband?” Franny cuts her off dryly. “Sounds right to me.”

The others all agree, but Franny isn’t done.

“My Uncles have the best relationship I’ve ever seen,” Franny continues, “and I was a little kid for most of it. So if you think they’re gonna care what some random kid their niece hangs out with thinks about their marriage…” she trails off.

Tiffany’s eyes are downcast.

“Didn’t mean anything by it,” she mutters, then looks up through her eyelashes. “Sorry.”

Silence, broken by Franny’s tired sigh.

“It’s okay, I guess,” she says. Then she hands Tiffany her notebook. “Here, you can write the introduction.”

——-

Behind a half-closed door down the hall, Mickey stands quietly, eyes wide. He startles when the door creaks open an extra inch, Ian slipping inside.

Ian’s eyes are soft when they fall on his face, and Mickey blinks hurriedly to hide the wetness in his own.

“You heard all that, I take it?” Ian whispers, and Mickey nods.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Kind of hard not to, those kids are fucking banshees.”

Ian laughs, soft and quiet.

“Banshees that love you,” he says, stepping closer. “As they should,” he adds when Mickey lets him wrap strong arms around him.

“Sounds like one of ‘em loves you more,” Mickey mumbles into Ian’s chest, and it shakes as Ian huffs.

“She’ll learn,” he says, holding Mickey tighter. “They all do eventually.”

“That I’m the better husband?” Mickey jokes, even as he rubs his face into the fabric of his own shirt over Ian’s broad chest.

“That we’re best together,” Ian corrects, and Mickey smiles.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, pressing a kiss to Ian’s sternum.

“Yeah, we really are.”

[olivetoseeyou]

Fight or Flight Club

"You two were going where? A fight club? Where they beat each other up?" Olive asked, aghast. "Well, I guess he missed his flight, so no bloodsports tonight. Ew."

This really shouldn't be shocking given Aphelion's always going on about MMA and UFC and a lot of other three letter acronyms and Blixa's so into underground scenes that you might as well call him subterranean, but even still, watching people fight for real? Not play fights? Real fights? How so totally morbid!

"I make my plans not around the whims of the unreliable but the desires of mine own heart. Sorry, strawberry, I'm still going. It's only a few hours I'll be gone, never fear," Blixa said as he polished off the last of the rum. "Some musicians find their inspiration in beautiful women and some in a bottle but mine comes from other places."

Cool, her brother who has been pregaming -Blixa, who has half a dozen stories involving less-than-legal things regs might not like- is going to a shady and maybe illegal place on his own in a city he's unfamiliar that's absolutely crawling with regs and weird vampire politics that she didn't understand. Olive freely admitted she was naive but even she could see the potential for this to turn out badly.

"Okay, well, I'll just take Aphelion's ticket or whatever and go with you," Olive said as she tried to put on a brave face. "Don't go places alone! You'll get serial-murdered! That's not allowed on my watch! We are using the buddy system here."

Her brother put his glass down an ew, he poured his blood and rum into one of her good teacups, there's no way that wouldn't stain.

"Olive, I may be blind but I am not in need of a babysitter," he said. "I'm not throwing myself into the ring. I am absorbing the atmosphere. I am basking in hidden worlds. I am rubbing my hands over every surface I can find to steal their secrets for my own. Stay at home and do something fun, won't you? No blood for you, no bruises to see. We can watch Suspiria when I return from my little excursion."

"It's not about that. I'm not...Blixa, what if you lose your phone and you don't know how to find the way back? What if you get drunk and you forget how to speak English again? What if someone has bad vibes? What if there's a devil there and you accidentally sell your soul? I'm going with you. You're just going to have to deal with that."

"Please, my label owns that old thing. They'll have to fight Death Records for my soul," he replied. "No. You would abhor every minute of it. You do not need to come with me. I cannot emphasize enough there is fighting and blood and things you do not care to see."

Anyway, long story short, Olive insisted on going with him despite all of Blixa's repeated protests that she would hate it and should go home, and guess what: she hated every second of being here.

She tried to dress for the occasion in her toughest outfit -which mostly meant that she wore her one pair of black boots and a leather jacket so you couldn't see the hearts embroidered on the front of her dress- but it was clear to anyone who gave her a single glance that this fish was so far out of water she might as well be in a desert. Wow, those guys really were beating the tar out of each other, weren't they? She figured it was super illegal to fight to the death and it was probably like WWE or something, but even still, oh, oh no, wow, that looked painful, ouch. She felt like everyone was staring at her, even if they probably weren’t. More than that, she felt the emotion in the room like a wild rock concert: loud and overpowering and just so, so much. Everyone was excited or angry or hurting or wanting and everyone was as loud as the next.

She needed air. Actually, what she really needed was to go home but she didn't quite want to admit that her brother was right, he neither wanted nor needed her there, and nothing terrible would happen if he watched the fights by himself. Olive did not think she was a prideful person but it was still embarrassing to admit that you were wrong. She slipped away when he was too busy soaking in the ambiance to pay attention. Should she go back to the bar area? But what if someone scary talked to her? Maybe she could just hide out in the bathrooms instead? What if they were gross? She was awash with indecision.

Olive did not like Fight Club or actual fight clubs, it turns out.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

How bout a fic a levi x civilian baker? Reader finds him intimidating at first but as time goes by she get to know him and slowly falls in love with levi. Likes his cleanfreakiness, obsession with tea, his gentleness, how he treats his comrades etc. Reader sees his softer side, hidden under the gruffiness and glares. The setting could be scouts relaxing in a small bakery x teashop every dayoff they get and/or reader donates bread for the scouts? Just a peaceful love story❤ with funny banters❤

This has been in my inbox for months but I only now found some inspiration to write it (I'm basically baking stuff every single day so maybe that's why) anon, if you're still out there I'm sorry for the long wait, I hope this is what you wanted.

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: fluff, canonverse

Loaves of Love

It all started with a young brunette soldier who had been awestruck by your shop's enamoring display. With her shaky hands and her oily teenage skin pressed against the shiny glass while a streak of drool run down her face.

You had been waxing some tables to start the day with, your feet much swollen and numb by the long standing position when you noticed her; big, round brown eyes that were swooning over the loaf of garlic bread you had placed at the shelf on display were blinking rapidly between you and the object of her desire. She seemed to ignore the voices that we calling out to her as she was fixated on the streaks of smoke that danced in the air, rubbing a tiny area in the glass as if she longed to caress the loaf like a lover.

You couldn't help but crack a smile.

If there was one word that could be used to describe the bakery shop you were working for that word would be 'delicious'.

Or so you wanted to believe.

Your uncle, the owner of the shop and a top baker in Trost, had poured a lot of money to it's renovation after the store was trashed by the breachinf of the walls. It was profoundly evident element in the store that could be found anywhere from the elegant stalls and shelves that were filled with different types of bread and numerous plates of traditional pastries, to the most divine and fine glass that shone on every large window.

The wooden floors were polished to perfection, and twice a day at that, by your uncle's command, and all the tables at the restroom area of the store were cleaned meticulously every single morning. It was a necessary policy of your uncle's; a clean store attracted more customers which meant more income, and thus more independent financial stability for you through a bigger wage. One that you didn't have to split in half with your brother.

Until that day came though, you were stuck with scrubbing and waxing the tables each and every morning.

Wiping down the excess residue of wax, you eyed your brother, noticing how he was setting up loaves of bread neatfully over the caramel brown baskets, carefully making sure he didn't mix up the different breadths of bread. You brother noticed, smiling at you in return and you pointed out to the young brunette whou wouldn't seem to get her face off of your display window.

"She's cute."

"Oh my god Beau, she must be so young you gross little shit."

"The scouts have had their income reduced once again." He announced. "That's why the poor girl is drooling. They're looking for a new bakery to take up their orders too."

"Oh."

"Yeah and uncle said we should do it."

You gave a hard eye with puckered lips to your brother as he voiced that, letting a long sigh escape you. He replied with a side smileand brought his hands to his hair, shipping his locks back before searching for the little hair band in the pocket of his apron. By the time you laid eyes on the small brunette, you noticed that her friends we're accompanying her. You pressed your lips together as you eyed the group of teens, half smiling at them in any case they could see you through the glass. One of them shook his head to the side, shyly blushing as his wide eyes were instantly hidden by his blond bangs.

The were all oggling the display with eyes as wide as the brunettes, You guessed, as your brother had said that they must have been rather hungry; Scouts never really have a big budget nonetheless, and your heart skipped a beat at the paleness on the teenagers' faces, the mere thought of them not having eaten anything for breakfast was more fearful than looking a Titan in the eye.

So, by setting down your table waxing kit, you wiped your hands at your apron and rushed to the small stall that your brother was leaning on.

"Beau, do me a favor and step aside please." You spoke as you marched to him and the hem of your skirt flapped over your ankles.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm feeding the kids."

"(Y/n), they're not stray dogs you know."

"Fine giving them some bread, whatever." You scoffed.

"Uncle's gonna be mad."

"As if I care. I didn't ask to be a baker and work here, plus less loaves means it's on demand."

Your brother sighed at you and slowly shook his head a couple of times. You didn't miss the sly smile that he hid once he burried his face to the palm of his hand, just like he didn't miss the cooking of your eyebrow as you smirked victoriously at him. Taking a complete turn to the opposite direction from the one you were facing you pushed your brother aside and kneeled down to the shelves on the inside of that cashier stall where numerous tote bags laid, folded neatly, ready to accommodate any of your costumer's orders.

You quickly grabbed one, and jounced it open in the air.

Your eyes shot to the teens that still stood before the display, now trying to pull their friend away from it, and hurriedly grabbed a few medium sized loaves in your hands. Once you filled the bag with more loaves than the number of teens you took a quick turn again, your feet stomping the mahogany tiles of the floor underneath you.

"Hello!" Your costumer friendly cheerful voice chatted.

"Ah agagagagagaga!" The brunette from before panicked as she turned to you, her hands stood confused before her chest.

"Hey miss" The tallest of the group, an ashy blond boy, spoke back to you. "We're sorry were standing here like bunch of idiots-"

"Speak for your self Jean! I feel in love with that loaf!"

"Sasha stop being such a glutton!" A girl with ebony hair spoke.

"Oh no it's fine, I just got these for you."

With steady hands a compressee smile on your face you extended the bag to Sasha's direction, the material flapping as it hung from your grip. Sasha's eyes shit wide open, they glimmered with tension and her mouth fell agape as she went to scream at you. Another boy, one with a buzzcut, quickly got his hands on her, linking his elbows inside hers as he wiggled his right palm to her mouth, ready to stop whatever sound the girl wanted to utter.

"Thank you! Please don't give food to Sasha so bluntly, she will bite your hand off." The ashy blonde told you and took a grip of the beige straps of the tote bag. His hand wiggled inside, grabbing a small loaf and he brought it to his nose to smell it before placing it into Sasha's hands.

"You bastars, did you just smell something that was a gift?"

"It smelled good Eren." The boy greeted his teeth.

"Not very accepting of you, she's giving us their most popular bread and the first thing you do is smell it?"

"You've been very annoying today Eren don't test me."

"Eren?" You said, shaking your head in disbelief "Eren Yeager? As in the kid who can turn into a Titan?"

Eren oggled his eyes in yours, marching a foot forward so he could come into a better view and opened his mouth to speak by flapping his lips together. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you watched Jean roll his eyes at him before taking a step back and tapping Connie's shoulders in order to tell him to unhand Sasha. Any other group of teens would have annoyed you, but these young scouts in particular were known faces of the front lines and over the newspapers at some occasions. You couldn't really hold a grudge to teenagers with issues bigger than yours, you gave them that.

"Yes I am that-"

"Brats."

"I am that brat, what?"

Eren looked around in confusion, questionimg the words that had just left his mouth. You chuckled at him briefly, closing your eyes in the funny of the situation before shooting them open once again as you laid them on the person who had spoke over Eren.

Captain Levi. You almost gasped absurdly loud at the realisation.

Raven hair that shone with a strobe under the early morning light, a porcelain complecion to contrast it, a heart shaped face and narrow almond eyes with thick lashes, a nose that looked like it had been sculped by gods with uttmost delicacy and thin, a pair assymetrical lips that were pressed into a pout. He truly looked better that anyone you had even seen from up close and you found yourself choking with unsaid words as his gunmetal gaze was fixed on you.

"Are you the owner of the store?" He said bluntly, the question reminding you more of a statement.

"Ah, I'm, I'm not! My uncle is and-"

"See I told you he intimidates women!" Connie whispered to Sasha as she stuffed another bite of garlic bread into her mouth, earning a sharp glare from the captain. The duo burst in laughter shortly after the captain turned his gaze from them and you watched as he rolled his eyes at them while digging his lips under his teeth to sink them in his mouth.

"Speak up, my nails don't exactly smell like what you want to say."

You eyed him in confusion, struck by the bluntness of his sarcasm. Still you managed to gather your thoughts with a single inhale. "My uncle is the owner of the bakery, feel free to come in, I'll give fetch him."

"Hm"

With a nod the short man agreed to your proposal, fixing the waist height camel jacket on his chest. It was the beginning of a warm day in Trost, that was for sure and you could see the soldiers around you tense inside their attire slighty. The captain bored his eyes into yours once again as you gestured you to get into the store before him.

Sighing, you entered the the store, giving your brother a wide eyed look before with an awkward smile that vanished in a matter of seconds. You quickly checked to see that the group of teens were lazing out of the bakery, not bothering to follow their captain, as they chit chat they with each other quite loudly.

"Hi, have a seat captain, what can we get you? Something to drink? Or eat? " Your brother greeted from behind the stall, giving the gloomy captain an ear to ear grin.

"Just black tea. Unsweetened."

The captain waved off his hand as he took a seat on a dim lit table and you noticed as his body sank in the chair momentarily. A soft smile over came your features as you stared at him, taking in his bulky form as streaks of light peaked over him, inevitably bathing him in warm morning colors. His finger traced over the table, rubbing softly in a small area as if reluctantly inspecting it.

Of course, you were aware of his antics; many fellow shop owners would compete on who would get to provide captain Levi with his cleaning supplies on his monthly stroll around the town to shop necessities. His mania with cleaning was something that probably unbeknownst to him was a big thing for anyone to his service or even swooning fangirls.

Oh, he had a few of them.

Now, you could see why.

He stood so gloomyon his own, carrying such a mysterious aura around him. With his sleek hand holding the side of his face while being balled up in a tight fist, with his navy gray button down shirt and the knee length boots. Despite being as short as most people said, a fact you were trying to get in your head, because you've only seen him from afar and on his horse, he was still rather bulky, with thighs that were barely restrained by the straps of his gear. With biceps that flexed tight in his jacket.

Shoot, he kind if was a little dreamy, you weren't going to lie.

"Are you going to fetch our uncle or shall I give you a day off to drool over the captain?"

Oh, your brother was always quick to call you out on the bare minimum.

"Fine, fine. I'm off. By the walls."

Okay, yeah, so what if you found the captain a little dreamy, it wasn't going to hurt anyone.

.....

Thinking about your cleaning routine you had concluded that at this point you didn't know if this bakery smelled like the delicious fluffiness of freshly baked bread or sanitary products. People really seemed to compliment you on both nevertheless, whether on individual or collective level. You were simply happy about how most seemed to enjoy their experience at your bakery.

Most, but mostly him.

Captain Levi of the Scouts. He was a regular at your shop for, give or take, three months now. And you couldn't be more happy about it.

Just like today, he was usually dropping by on Mondays, each and every time with a new book in hand, dressed in casually formal attires, that mostly consisted of the same onyx suit and a dress shirt that sat too tight on his petrocals. Your brother would tease you afterwards, making snarkly comments about how you were flirting shamelessly with him, and you'd brush him off with a reply on how unresponsive the man was to anything.

Not convinced with the silly things you told yourself, you brother stood with his back against the bread shelves, grinning victoriously as the little bell of the store rang when the mighty captain slipped inside the store silently. You shit him a glare, a harsh furrowed glare before eyeing the apron that was hanging right next to him. Catching the signal, your brother grabbed the article and rouched it in his hands before tossing it to you.

"The usual?" You smiled slightly at Levi.

"Mhm"

Setting the apron over the bust of your dress, you drag your hands over the cotton front, pinching a few if the ruffles to perfection, then lowering your hands to the small of your back to idle with the straps of the waist in order to tie them in the perfect bow. The heels of your shoes clapped over the mahogany tiles of the floor as you run to the small kitchenette behind that cashier stall, just a few meters away from where your brother stood.

You bent down, then back up, examining the hangers in the area with a cocked eyebrow. Just where were your oven gloves?

"His apple pie is here," You brother said and you clapped a hand over your mouth "I took it out of the oven while you were drooling at him."

"No, oh my god! Is it baked?"

"Would I taken it out if it wasn't?"

You didn't reply. Instead, you chose to fixate your attention at the jars of tea that rested on the top shelf of the kitchenette. The choices weren't many, of course, your store wasn't exactly a tea shop or a coffee shop, the small variety of beverages you had only existed in order to help people digest their pastries better. Nothing too fancy. Yet, for Levi, you had spent days collecting some of the chamomile outside your house, you had tried drying red forests fruits, hell you had even tried making jasmine tea for him.

And for what?

Maybe the look on his face when you'd present him with a new tea blend was all the satisfaction you could use. Actually, that was the only thing it should be; the happiness of a service worker as their costumer enjoyed consuming their product, the fact that it made them come back, maybe the fact that despite not liking sweets they welcomed your pastries without objection.

But it wasn't just that. You knew, your brother knew, maybe even Levi knew and he pitied you.

You had fallen in love with Captain Levi. You had tried your best to supress it, to put it in a box, lock it and dig a hole twenty feet under the ground and bury it so light wouldn't see it again. Him and you weren't possible and you were more than aware ever since the very first day. Still, you had found him becoming so familiar to you in the little times you had seen him that you felt like you couldn't help yourself.

"Are you going to stand there for long? The kettle has been whistling for a long while now."

"Uhh, yes, yeah."

Shaking your thoughts out of your head you fixed your eyes on the whistling kettle. You took another step closer to it and since there wasn't any heat protecting glove in sight, you grabbed the length of your apron in your hand before wrapping your palm around the mettalic handle. You poured the hot water carefully into a large porcelain teapot, through the small almond tea brew that you had previously arranged onto the infuser.

"Don't have that face..."

"What face?" You asked nonchalantly and places the teapot on a tray, right next to the small pot of apple pie.

"You know.. the face... the I'm sad about my boyfriend face."

"I don't have that face." You snarled "and he's not my boyfriend. Shut up before he can hear you."

Walking to a glass shielded cupboard, you slid the little door open and grabbed a matching cup to the teapot, setting it too onto the tray. From the corner of your eye you watched as your brother sighed and shook his head disappointed in you, but you brushed it off quickly; you just wanted to give Levi his order, you'd have all day to endure your brother's teasing after the man of your desire left.

"Hello"

Levi's eyes shimmered as light splashed onto them; the little blue circles on the outer edge of his irises shone a different hue today, one that didn't accentuate the darkness of his eyebags, though it still was enigh to merge with how soft his time was to you.

"Hi" You pressed your lips together "here you go, almond tea and your apple pie."

"Ah, ye-yes, the apple, the apple pie."

Was he, by any chance, stuttering?

You glanced to the left and then to the right, then back to Levi again. Pressing your hand to his forehead didn't seem like a good idea, mostly because you respected his personal space and also because the man was quite fond of being obsessed over cleaningness and maybe your hands weren't clean enough for his standards. Or it could also be that you were overall too awestruck to do anything other than lean down closer to him, bum popping in the air, as your knees remained unbent.

"Is everything alright Captain?"

Had you been dense, you would have missed the way his eyes were magnetized by the action, and consequentially get back to your standing position. Levi quickly cleared his throat though and closed his eyes, brushing the happening off as if it had never happened.

"Yes, I'm, I'm good, just a little" He cough again "Isn't it a bit warm here?"

"Ah, yes, I mean it is a furnace. Anyways I'll leave you to your book."

"No you're welcome to-" Levi begun and his hand traced over the black leather cover of the book.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're welcome. And call me Levi, cut the shitty formalities."

As you turned on your heels to walk to your brother, you felt your heart skip not one, but numerous beats. Quickly, you left the tray on the counter before your brother and rushed to the back room of the store, desperate to hide the embarrassing joy you were feeling. You squatted down on a dim lit spot just behind a few sacks of flour and buried your face in your hands.

Nonetheless you sighed, setting your gaze at one sack of flour before you that was filled to the top, hoping the the neat white color would help you calm down. Why did it have to even be like this? With a deep sigh you put your hands over your knees and unbent them, your body willingly standing up as you wiped your eyebrow with the flat of your palm.

Your head was probably throbbing just as much as your heart.

You felt guilty that you experienced such emotions in the first place. You had been too eager to wear your heart upon your sleeve when it came to Levi that you ignored that most of your interactions rolled as awkwardly as this one.

Maybe that's why he stuttered.

Maybe he even had someone he had feelings for just like you had for him.

Maybe..

Maybe...

Maybe....

You kept repeating the word inside your head until it became a mushy pile of goo that stuck to a crevice of your mind and prevented it from functioning correctly. All you knew was that you had to finish baking the weekly amount loaves the scouts had ordered you. And that's what you set as your task. With your uncle nowhere near the store at this -ungodly for him- hour you walked to the enormous tin in which he kept the dough you were looking for.

All you had to do was shape it into loaves and bake it. Easy and soul mending.

It should be something that could keep your mind off of him for a long while.

.....

The sun shone a bright orange as it spilled from the small windows of the room, bathing the the enormous amount of loaves you had baked as they rested inside the deckles you had placed them in. The warmth of this evening was beyond bearable and combined with the heat of the furnace you could feel your cheeks going numb to the excessive heat.

A droplet of sweat run down your forehead, lukewarm as it was when it formed to the top of your hairline, freshening up a little ribbon over your skin. With the back of your hand covered by the edge of your apron you wiped it away, leaving your skin complaining over the harsh, erratic movement.

"I think your boyfriend is waiting for you."

You turned your head to your left when you heard the tomed down voice. Your brother, was leaning against doorframe of the workshop, his hands crossed and pressed sturdily across his chest, his hip pressing against the casing of the door. There was this warm expression all over his face, that little teasing glimmer that flickeres in his eyes as the light of the sunset painted him orange as well.

"For the last time," You furrowed your brows and looked away. "he's not my boyfriend. And he's free to stay here for as long as he wants."

"Please with how slow things between him and you are going I'm going to have to ask him to ask for your hand in marriage."

Just what you needed.

"Beau. No."

"(Y/n). Yes." He smiled at you once you rolled your eyes "Anyways, he's waiting to help you get the loaves to the Scouts Headquarters. Because I have a date to attend to."

You didn't speak, you didn't even throw your brother a glance as the words left his mouth. You simply furrowed your brows together painfully over your shut eyes and puckered your lips. Your hands reached to your bum, wiping down any residue of flour to the pleats of your skirt ithout giving it a second thought.

"Fine. I hope this isn't one of your match making tricks."

Your brother smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. You already knew what his answer was going to be.

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

....

The big wooden table that hung from the balcony above it read "Uncle Ben's leather goods" in a big, cursive font, and by the looks of it, Levi had stopped by to retrieve something commissioned for him by his squad. You curiously peaked once or twice inside the store, as you leaned over the cart, the tips of your fingers rubbing lines along the thick wooden borders.

Had you taken the shortcut you had suggested the trip to the headquarters was no more than ten minutes. This evening though, since you were accompanied by the captain himself, taking a shortcut wasn't exactly a preferable option in your agenta, thus, you hadn't insisted on it.

When he finally exited the store with a tote bag hanging from his shoulder you realised you hadn't spent a lot of time waiting for him, still the little commotion in your heart begged you to cease every single moment you had alone with him

"Okay, time to head off to the headquarters" You said with a soft smile.

Levi hummed in response and walked to the back side of the cart. With steady hands he pressed onto it, his fingers flexing onto the metallic handles. He hung his head low, his shaggy bangs waving over his eyes a little before he turned his head again to look at you. Gunmetal orbs fell into yours with serenity, blinking ever so slowly.

"You seem to be into reading, Levi." You said, your eyes being the first ones to look away.

"Ah, yes, I couldn't enjoy reading in the past thus I am doing so now."

You found yourself in loss of words for the thousandth time this evening. You didn't know what exactly you had to say to that, seeing you had heard rumors about him being a former thug, though in your best judgment that would be an intensitive subject to bring up. Immediately, your brother came to your mind, he would not hesitate to pester you for days you if you didn't make any progress over crush now, would he?

Maybe asking for his favorite literature genre was the way to go with this.

"What's your favorite gen-"

"Can I tell you somethin-"

Levi blinked his eyes rapidly into yours and you giggled slightly at his confused face. The ravenette stared back and forth between the two of you with puckered lips, wondering who shall speak first.

"Go ahead Levi."

"The almond tea you're serving me is rather good. Care to tell me how to make it on my own?"

A shy smile came over you, still you felt the need to conceal it. You could see the headquarters peaking from the other buildings in the background, the cobblestone color of the building contrasting the violet of the sky only ever so slightly. You didn't have that much time left with Levi and that was a fact, so now wasn't the time to get all shy.

"I'll bring you a jar next week then. Just a small one though, or not!"

"No?" Levi said and cocked an eye brow at you.

His eyes were fixated on you again, his features bearing a soft expression that you couldn't exactly pinpoint, still it spread a little warmth inside you. Instinctively you run your eyes over your outfit. The only thing you found was as perfect as it was when you left your house in the morning was the top of your dress. You slightly fixed the cord that was holding the corset part of your dress tied, tucking it into where it had escaped from.

You didn't let him know you caught him staring, but by the way he was looking at you, maybe he didn't have a certain someone among the scouts.

Or were you just seeing what you wanted?

"Of course not, I'm not about to lose a regular at my store."

"A regular huh?" Levi questioned with that nasal undertone of his

You looked at the sky before you went to answer him. The evening breeze smeeled wondrously, mixed with the mouth watering aroma of the slightly season with garlic and poppy seeds bread, you could even say it was heavenly. The air wasn't as heavy and awkward as you had expected, rather, Levi was in a somewhat playful mood if you could place it correctly.

It struck you that he might have been like that because he was feeling the change in the atmosphere as well.

"Would you like to be more than a regular?" You paused "shoot never mind that"

"What was that? More than a regular?"

"Yes, a super regular!" You smiled slyly.

"If you keep spurting entertaining crap like that more often I might be tempted to become one."

Without realising it, you found yourself gaining confidence over the little territory you had conquered in the captain's mind. Every step you took that lead ultimately led you to the Headquarters was a proof of that. Levi seemed to be as bummed as you, he seemed to be flustered like a teen whose date had ended, you could see it now for some reason.

And when it came to you, your feet weren't shaky anymore, your voice wasn't the squeaky polite voice you'd put on for strangers. This was the first time in a long while where you felt like you could be yourself in Levi's presence and you couldn't help but hope there would be more instances like this.

"Here we are."

"Yes, here we are." Levi sighed, turning his face to look at you.

"I uhm, I'll help you get those in."

"No need to, I'll have the brats sweat for it, I haven't tortured them in a long while."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at that comment, though the bubbling sound died down immediately, bowing before the reality of your current situation. Your stroll around Trost had come to end. What an unfair way for your little walk to die.

Nevertheless your chest rose and fell as you looked at Levi, your heart pulping hard inside your chest. Heat rushed just under your skin, stinging you in millions of places at once as you contemplated on what to say next. You were going to speak, and very soon at that, just omge you found the words to do so.

"I'd like to see you again." You spoke, though you doubted this was the right choice of words.

"You see me every single week."

"Not like that!"

"Tch, then?" He clicked his tongue.

Your stomach turned. It twisted and turned and tied itself in a horrid knot; you couldn't just not panic. At his cocked brow, the little press of his lips, the way his eyes remained narrowed as the glared at you. On no, this was your doom for being bold before, wasn't it?

"Like this, but, without the bread."

You didn't miss the way his eyes softened at your words, frankly because it was a rather beautiful sight. The little creases of his eyes overlaoped each other, narrowing his gaze with a mellow tint that was gone as soon as you blinked. It only made you feel like you shouldn't blink again as to not miss his small reactions.

"Hmh, that can be arranged."

Honestly, you couldn't wait until then.

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