#his ears look like horns but I like how his toe beans came out

[nothing-wrong-with-me]

Dimple as a cat inspired by @vulcan-moon 's fanart.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 71

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 71: The Eighth Door

Very soon, regarding Ruan Nanzhu's offer, Lin Qiushi had an answer—he decided to enter Cheng Yixie's ninth door together with Ruan Nanzhu.

About Lin Qiushi's decision, Ruan Nanzhu wasn't surprised. He only asked Lin Qiushi once more: "You've thought it through?"

Lin Qiushi nodded: "I've thought it through."

"The ninth door will be much more difficult. Even I can't guarantee you'll make it out safely," Ruan Nanzhu spoke bluntly. "This door may be your last."

Lin Qiushi said, "that's fine."

Ruan Nanzhu watched Lin Qiushi's face in silence for a moment, before nodding in acceptance.

Lin Qiushi thought there was something he wanted to say, but in the end, Ruan Nanzhu said nothing more.

After confirming Lin Qiushi was going with them, Ruan Nanzhu told Lin Qiushi the ninth door's hint. When he got it, Lin Qiushi read it over, and took on a look of shock: "This is a hint?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "mh."

There was a line on the paper: with bronze as mirror, one can right their apparel; with history as mirror, one can understand the tides of fortune; with people as mirror, one can gain from loss.

"What does this mean?" Lin Qiushi recalled this was a famous quote from Li Shimin of the Tang Dynasty, something that was even taught in textbooks. But placed within the world of the doors, a hint like this was basically no hint at all.

"I don't know," Ruan Nanzhu said. "The hints for latter doors are all more abstract. They no longer have clear indications like the ones before. So what the situation will actually be like, we can only say once inside the door."

Hint slip pinched in hand, Lin Qiushi stared at it for a long time, before saying okay.

Their time of entry was, specifically, the fifteenth of the next month. Cheng Yixie was the one who told Lin Qiushi. When he learned Lin Qiushi was going into the door with them he seemed quite calm, like he'd already predicted Ruan Nanzhu would be bringing Lin Qiushi along.

Cheng Yixie was likely the quietest person inside the mansion. He was silent all the time, except to scold his brother.

Though Cheng Qianli and Cheng Yixie were twins, their personalities were complete opposites. Cheng Qianli went about his day like an air-headed child, while Cheng Yixie was very mature.

There was still some time before they were to enter the door. Lin Qiushi continued to rest in the mansion.

In the interim Tan Zaozao and that movie legend Zhang Yiqing also came around, together with the man taking Zhang Yiqing through his doors.

That person's name was Bai Ming. In both looks and disposition he was very sunny, with his hair in light, natural curls and a cute dimple on his cheek when he smiled.

To be honest, Lin Qiushi was having a hard time linking a person like this to a major player on the inside. He was quite curious how this Bai Ming appeared inside the doors.

The question felt a bit invasive however, so Lin Qiushi didn't ask.

Zhang Yiqing's condition seemed better than before. At least he didn't look on the verge of a breakdown.

Bai Ming was very interested in Lin Qiushi as well, though he didn't dare express too much of this interest in front of Ruan Nanzhu. Lin Qiushi still noticed, though, the occasional looks of assessment.

"Yiqing's movie's premiering in May, you guys have to go see it." The first thing Bai Ming did upon arriving at the mansion was pass out Zhang Yiqing's premier tickets. "I've already seen the uncut version, it's amazing."

Sitting on the side watching Bai Ming toot his horn, Zhang Yiqing's expression didn't look too good. Lin Qiushi guessed it was a look of humiliation…

"Yiqing is absolutely incredible, I like him so much." Bai Ming professed his love looking like a whole star-chasing fanatic. Which was fine on the regular, but now that he was complimenting the man to his face, it was rather hard to bear. Lin Qiushi clearly saw that despite Zhang Yiqing's severe expression, his ears had gone completely red. Zhang Yiqing stood up, feigning calm, and said he was going out onto the balcony for a smoke.

Lin Qiushi privately thought it was really pretty funny, that this Bai Ming had Zhang Yiqing completely contained.

Tan Zaozao started loudly guffawing without holding back at all.

"Zaozao, are you going in again?" Lin Qiushi quickly calculated the time, and felt Tan Zaozao's next door ought to be soon.

"Mh," Tan Zaozao nodded. "Chen Fei's bringing me this time… How about you? Which door are you on?"

Lin Qiushi said, "still my sixth." He didn't mention that he was going into the ninth door with Ruan Nanzhu.

"Oh…" Tan Zaozao's attention seemed to wander, like she was thinking of something.

Lin Qiushi asked, "what is it?"

"Nothing," Tan Zaozao sighed. "Just wondering what to do about the doors after this." She couldn't completely drop her real life job like Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi to focus on passing the doors, and she didn't have the courage to train. This meant that for higher level doors, she'd likely have more poor fortune than good, not to mention that even Ruan Nanzhu basically didn't take on doors after the sixth.

Because people said that after the sixth door, the level of difficulty thoroughly changed. As for how it changed, Tan Zaozao wasn't sure. All she knew was that it would be tough.

The group chatted for a while over lunch. Lin Qiushi learned, through Ruan Nanzhu and Bai Ming's conversation, that the two had known each other for about four years, and counted as old friends.

Bai Ming had already passed his ninth door, and was waiting for his tenth.

After eating, Bai Ming and Ruan Nanzhu went to the study. The two seemed to have something to discuss in private.

Tan Zaozao brought Lin Qiushi and Zhang Yiqing downstairs to play games.

What the two discussed Lin Qiushi didn't know, but when they came back downstairs, both their gazes were fixed on him.

Lin Qiushi, vaguely startled, asked, "what is it?"

"Nothing," Bai Ming grinned. "Just a bit curious about you."

Lin Qiushi, "curious?"

Bai Ming asked, "don't you think there's something special about yourself?"

Lin Qiushi gave it a thought, before murmuring, "I especially like cats?" As he said this, he was poking subtly at Chestnut's toe beans, all while Chestnut side-eyed him in displeasure.

Ruan Nanzhu, "…" Sure, that could be considered a type of special.

Hearing this, Bai Ming laughed. "You really are interesting." He didn't mention anymore about Lin Qiushi though, and after sitting for another while, left with Zhang Yiqing and Tan Zaozao.

Lin Qiushi glanced at Ruan Nanzhu, seated beside him, and quietly asked, "is there something special about me?"

Ruan Nanzhu eyed him back. "What do you think?"

Lin Qiushi shook his head, uncomprehending.

Ruan Nanzhu, "you really don't feel like there's anything weird about you?"

Lin Qiushi, "no."

Ruan Nanzhu stood up. "If not then forget it." At this, he turned and left, leaving Lin Qiushi no further opportunity to ask. For some reason, Lin Qiushi felt that Ruan Nanzhu's mood had soured…

Cheng Qianli learned they were entering the ninth door as well. He was very worried; he even set up an altar in his room and began to seriously pray.

Lin Qiushi was even dragged over to light three incense sticks of his own.

"Please bless them to return safely." Cheng Qianli's manners seemed wholly pious.

Lin Qiushi didn't use to believe in such things. But the world inside the doors had completely turned his worldview upside down, so he didn't say anything disrespectful before the incense altar.

"I'm so scared." After the incense, Cheng Qianli sat on his bed, muttering to Lin Qiushi. "I'm just really, really scared."

"Don't be scared, it'll be alright." Lin Qiushi petted his head. Cheng Qianli was only sixteen; he was still half a kid. "Your Ruan-ge will be there."

"Mh," Cheng Qianli said. "I want to be stronger, so then, then I can…" At this point, he seemed a bit embarrassed.

Lin Qiushi asked, "so then you can what?"

Cheng Qianli said, "so then I can be the one protecting my brother for a change!" He puffed up his chest, looking proud.

Lin Qiushi smiled. "Mh, then you gotta work hard." Sometimes, Cheng Qianli could be so foolishly adorable.

Cheng Qianli said, "even though he has a bad temper, and he gives me the cold-shoulder all the time, he's my brother in the end, right?" He lied down on the bed, muttering to himself. "He looks exactly like me, after all…"

Lin Qiushi just sat silently listening on the side.

He honestly didn't quite understand the brotherly love Cheng Qianli spoke of. Even in his youth he'd not encountered much of a familial atmosphere, nor did he have any brothers or sisters. At twenty-six, he didn't even have a person he liked. As Lin Qiushi thought this, he suddenly found his life a bit regretful. If he died inside this door, there seemed to be a lot that he hadn't experienced.

The day of Cheng Yixie's door opening got closer and closer.

The atmosphere inside the mansion began to tense as well.

Besides Ruan Nanzhu, Cheng Yixie had the highest level door. Lin Qiushi roughly calculated Cheng Yixie's time in the doors, and discovered he would've been entering doors since he was eleven or twelve. To have survived so many doors at such a young age, Cheng Yixie really was incredible.

And his younger brother Cheng Qianli was only on door six; there must have been years between each of their first doors.

This time, Ruan Nanzhu didn't put Lin Qiushi in drag. While he was glad, there was, Lin Qiushi discovered, a thin thread of disappointment deep in his heart. When he noticed this disappointment he scared himself. He hadn't thought drag could be addictive.

Of course, Lin Qiushi very quickly processed and got rid of these disappointed feelings, since he really was glad he didn't have to pretend to be mute anymore. As for the matter of a fake voice—he still had not figured that out.

Days flew by, and soon, it was nearly time to enter the door.

The weather had also gradually gotten hot. After dinner, Lin Qiushi sat on the balcony cooling off, and saw Cheng Yixie standing in the garden downstairs. Cheng Yixie's expression was solemn, and there was a cigarette in his hand slowly being smoked.

Lin Qiushi watched him from high above, and after a while's thought, called out: "Cheng Yixie!"

Cheng Yixie looked up.

Lin Qiushi declared loudly, "minors shouldn't smoke."

Cheng Yixie furrowed his brow. He and Cheng Qianli were almost entirely identical, with the exception of that cold aura he gave off. Though he was young, that aura clearly let people know that this wasn't a person to be messed with. He listened to Lin Qiushi though, and really did put out the cigarette.

Lin Qiushi fished out a fistful of candy, and tossed them down from the second floor. "Eat these."

Colorful candies fell on the green grass like fireworks going off. They were actually quite pretty.

Cheng Yixie bent down. He picked one up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.

Lin Qiushi watched him, grinning. "Is it good? The purple one is grape flavored—" These were hard candies he ordered online, made from fruit juice. They tasted pretty good.

Cheng Yixie glanced once at him and didn't speak. He did carefully pick up all the candies however, and pocket them before walking away.

Watching him go, Lin Qiushi was pretty happy. Though Cheng Yixie entered the doors before he did, Cheng Yixie was also still a kid in his eyes, not even eighteen yet.

The day before going in, Ruan Nanzhu put on his dress. The three all wore that special bracelet, and began waiting for the door to come.

Cheng Qianli grew anxious, pacing laps up and down the house.

In the end Cheng Yixie couldn't take it anymore, frowning as he said, "quit circling, I'm going dizzy just looking at you."

Cheng Qianli, wounded, "I can't even circle around?"

Cheng Yixie, "no."

Cheng Qianli, "…hmph. Well no, I'm gonna circle." Though he said that, he still obediently took a seat back on the sofa, picking up Toast nearby to viciously rub at.

Dizzy with the rubbing, Toast blinked its big black eyes, howling in woe.

"Stop torturing it," Cheng Yixie spoke again.

Cheng Qianli, "ah, you're too much! You won't let me do this, you won't let me do that—"

Cheng Yixie didn't make a single sound in reply, just stared expressionlessly back at Cheng Qianli. And so the two faced off for ten, eleven seconds, before Cheng Qianli fell unerringly to defeat once more. With tragic eyes he released Toast's round little butt and watched the dog run away.

Cheng Yixie looked at his watch.

Cheng Qianli saw this, and only grew more agitated. His lips moved soundlessly for a bit, until, almost inaudibly, he squeezed out, "you have to come back."

Cheng Yixie glanced up once at him.

"Hey, I'm talking to you here!" Cheng Yixie said. "Are you listening to me, Cheng Yixie, you have to come back." It seemed to have taken him a while to work up the courage to say this. "You have to come back!"

Cheng Yixie made a single, faint sound of agreement.

And so Cheng Qianli was satisfied, murmuring some other fussy orders.

As the two brothers interacted, Lin Qiushi was seated right beside them. He saw with his own eyes the corners of Cheng Yixie's mouth tick up as Cheng Qianli mumbled, though the motion was faint and only momentary, easily taken as an illusion.

The door came the next evening.

After eating, Lin Qiushi had gone back to his room.

He sat in front of his computer, and was just about to press the on button, when a very peculiar feeling came over his body. It was a feeling he was familiar with—the door had opened.

Lin Qiushi got up and opened his bedroom door. He wasn't surprised at all to see that the twelve metal doors had appeared in the hallway. Of them, eight were sealed off. The other three could not be opened.

The only one that could open was Cheng Yixie's ninth door.

Lin Qiushi came to the door, and tugged it open—the scenery around him twisted, and Lin Qiushi appeared on a wide paved road.

As he took in his surroundings, he looked a bit shocked, because it wasn't some desolate wilderness about him, but a full commercial street. Colorful signs hung from either side of the road, and though it was currently late and most of the shops were closed, it was still easy to picture the bustling street by day.

The path beneath his feet was very smooth. Lin Qiushi followed it, and saw a high rise that stretched into the clouds. A special coating covered the building's exterior, making it look like it was built out of mirrors; it absorbed all the light from around it, and was attention-catching even in the dimming night.

For some reason, as he looked at this high rise, a term came to Lin Qiushi's mind: phototaxis.

Phototaxis was a type of biological habit observed in both animals and plants. The most obvious one was how insects rush at a light source at night, even if that light was a flame that would incinerate them.

Humans were animals too, Lin Qiushi thought. In the dark of night, they would always walk toward the light source they see. With no consideration for what awaited them at the other end.

The doors to the high rise were open. Lin Qiushi slowly entered, and saw eight or nine people standing in the lobby. These people had already split into groups. Seeing Lin Qiushi walk in, most took on assessing expressions.

This time, Lin Qiushi saw no newbies out of their depths.

Considering the ninth door's difficulty, if there really was a newbie, then Lin Qiushi suspected they’d been dragged into this door literally seconds before their death.

Looking about, Lin Qiushi didn't find whom he was looking for. So he took a seat on a random sofa and began observing the situation around him.

Plus him, there were nine. Five men and four women, split into roughly three groups. They were likely all old hands at this; no one was pretending not to recognize the others. Instead they were all whispering, quietly discussing the matter of this door.

Lin Qiushi sat on the sofa for a while, until he saw two people come in. One was tall and one was short. The tall one was a woman in a long skirt, the short one was a cool-faced young man.

Though their faces were completely different, Lin Qiushi could still recognize them by their clothing and looks—it was Ruan Nanzhu and Cheng Yixie.

The two also saw Lin Qiushi on the sofa and approached.

"Everyone's here?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"Not yet, I don't think." Ruan Nanzhu sat down next to Lin Qiushi. "There are still some people looking around outside. They're probably waiting for their teammates."

At this, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but be impressed by Ruan Nanzhu's skills of observation. It seemed that not minutes after coming here, he'd already collected pretty much all the information they needed on the people around them.

Indeed, after about three minutes, two more people came in from the outside, also a man and a woman. The moment they came in, they headed straight for a corner.

When Lin Qiushi saw where they went he was surprised. "They… have five to one team?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "most likely."

"Is there advantage in numbers inside the doors?" Lin Qiushi tried to think this through, but something felt off.

"To some extent, yes," Ruan Nanzhu said, leaning back on the sofa. "The more people you bring, the more death conditions you can cross out, right?"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu eyed the corner, and laughed something cold. "Some people will do anything to survive."

Some people, in order to rule out death conditions, purposely brought a lot of newbies into the doors. The newbies didn't understand anything, and were very easily met with accidents inside. Of course, accidents happening to them was fine. To those who'd brought them in, it was even a good thing—they filled up the daily death quotas, after all. According to the rules inside, the number of people who could die each day was limited, so those people were actually safer like this.

Lin Qiushi hadn't thought things could be done this way. "And those newbies are still willing to come in?"

"Why wouldn't they be willing?" Ruan Nanzhu replied lazily. "There are always people who want to strike it rich in a single bite."

Who didn't want to forgo everything in the middle and jump straight through the ninth door? Risk and reward were usually in equal balance; to gain something, you had to give up something.

Such was living.

The group was finally all assembled. There were seventeen people in total, split into roughly five or six groups. The largest group among them was the one with five people. Lin Qiushi had a clear feeling that, of the five, their leader was the woman with the unkind expression.

With everybody gathered in the lobby, the hubbub grew louder.

At this moment, a person in a bellhop's uniform came over from the elevator. In his hand was a stack of keycards, and he smiled at the group in the lobby.

"I do beg your pardon, we've kept everybody waiting," the bellhop said. "These are the key cards to your rooms."

He began passing out the keycards.

Someone in the group asked, "how many per room? Are these single or standard rooms?"

"They're standard rooms," the bellhop said, and smiled. "Red card rooms have one large bed, white card rooms are doubles, and green card rooms can fit three, though one will have to sleep on the sofa." His was was soft and gentle. "Welcome to your vacation here, I hope all of you have a great time."

So they were supposed to be tourists. Lin Qiushi's heart jumped a beat.

"When does our vacation end?" the leader of the five-person group suddenly spoke. "Are there any tourist destinations nearby?"

The bellhop smiled. "I will give everyone a travel guide tomorrow, and on it, all the travel destinations will be marked." He finished passing out the keycards. "Please rest well tonight, everyone."

Lin Qiushi got up and fetched them a green card. The bellhop said green card rooms could fit three. It was perfect for their trio.

The room cards gradually traded hands, and the crowd dispersed on their own.

Lin Qiushi, Ruan Nanzhu, and Cheng Yixie's room was on the thirty-fourth floor. The floor was thickly carpeted, and from the hallways exuded a thick scent of burnt incense.

The lights were very dim. When they got to the room and stuck the keycard into the power slot, all the lights inside came on.

Lin Qiushi went to the window and looked out from the glass. He saw a darkened city, all of it swathed in dead silence. Not even a streetlight could be seen—though when he came in from the outside, Lin Qiushi had seen the streetlights turned on.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "this room is very interesting."

Lin Qiushi turned around. "Hm?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "there are mirrors everywhere."

Taking a look around, Lin Qiushi discovered there were indeed many mirrors inside the room. Most unbelievable was the one on the floor.

At the sight of the mirrors, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but think of that "with bronze as mirror" line in the hint. He sensed that the key had to do with the mirrors, but the hint wasn't enough, and he couldn't yet concretely capture it.

Cheng Yixie stared at the mirror beneath his feet, and was silent for a long time. Only when Lin Qiushi was about to walk away did he suddenly and quietly say: "This is a two-way mirror."

Lin Qiushi's face froze.

Cheng Yixie spoke very slowly: "People downstairs can see into our room."

At this, Ruan Nanzhu suddenly looked down at his skirt. "Then haven't I been exposed?"

Cheng Yixie, "…"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "upon closer thought, I'm actually a bit embarrassed."

Lin Qiushi, "…" If you're so embarrassed why are you pulling your skirt up higher…

Author's Note:

Hello everyone, I'm Xi Zixu's draft folder. For the next few days I'll be bringing folks new chapters. As for Xi Zixu, she got her hand chewed off when she washed her cat yesterday.

[Ch. 70] | [Ch. 72]

[gaitwae]

prince charming •||• Loki x Reader

Today was going to be like any other day. Normal. Or bad. I had made sure that Loki didn’t remember. Or, I tried to make sure. No one was going to remember anyway, so what was the point? Except . . . they all would. I groaned into my pillow.

I rolled out of bed, not even glancing at my phone. I didn’t want to see the date. I didn’t want to be reminded about today.

Tony and Thor and Peter would want to throw me a large party. Steve and Bruce would buy me something thoughtful and I started to feel bad already. Nat would probably be the only one to mostly follow my wishes about today. (I hoped.)

Loki would most likely hover around me and spoil me beyond the stars. Without my permission, too. Shower me with whatever I wanted, go to ridiculous lengths to keep me smiling. Drop cute pet names like “darling” and stuff. My heart fluttered at the thought.

I sigh. Loki would not be able to spoil me today.

I stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. I wasn’t even properly awake. I blinked my still-glued eyes furiously, trying to see. “I look like crap,” I mutter. “They will kill me today.” I wanted to die today.

I stripped, getting in the shower. I kept it quick, trying to make it as easy as possible to leave my apartment before the others came at like, eleven, or something.

I could hear car horns honking. I sigh. Today was going to be long. I wrap a towel around my body. As I walk out, I noticed something new. My eyes widened.

My dear, Could you please wear this today? I had something special planned. I thought that you would like this, and maybe the . . . headdress along with it will spike some interest.

Underneath the note, there was a long, green and silver-laced dress. The sleeves were simply straps that hung on one’s shoulders.

Peeking above the top of the dress was a headband-crown-thing with Loki’s horns. Basically a more feminine version of his helmet, but not a helmet? It wasn’t gold, but silver. The top was missing.

What was he planning?

I glared at the fabric. It wasn’t something I would wear usually. . . . I debated in my head, but it was at least an excuse not to put on pants, today. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the dress, and started dressing.

***

I looked at myself in the mirror evilly. Loki seemed to know what would look good. Drat. I peered around the apartment. Where were my shoes? I looked in the spot where I left them; where my cat, Jingle, might have batted them. Nowhere.

Green satin heels sat by the door. I growled. Loki! I huffed and slipped my only options on, surprised immediately. They were comfortable. Like wearing pillows without the bulk.

“For the love of my socks,” I mutter. “Who told him?” I grabbed the stupid crown thingie as I made way to the stupid door. As I grabbed the handle, my hair flew into a beautiful hairstyle. I growled. Something told me he expected me to wear the horned crown.

I set it on my head, irritated. I couldn’t even each the top of the horns’ curve. As soon as I thought the words, the whole thing changed size to be a perfect fit. This, too, was comfortable.

He got a head start on the spoiling.

I finally turned the knob and made my way into the hallway. The neighbors weren’t out, so I didn’t get any weird looks. I held my breath as I went down to exit the building, peeking out the window only to see the bright sun. I was hoping for rain, maybe to muss my hair.

Not only was the sun out, but I saw a horse’s tail flick impatiently. Gold and green. I swallowed and walked outside. To see him.

Loki POV

No, I didn’t have to wear my armor today. I didn’t have to go and pick (Y/N) up from the apartments, either. I didn’t have to bring a horse, or buy her things. But I did. I did it, anyway.

Perhaps she had forgotten about today’s importance. Or, even better, she remembered, and I could fluster her as much as I liked. I knew that she might have dreamt about this when she was younger, or must have known someone who had.

Today, I was not just simply Loki of Asgard. I was Prince Loki, Son of King Odin. I grinned down at (Y/N), hoping my face wasn’t red from her beauty. “Hello, darling. A little bird told me that today was a special day.”

I slid off my horse, bowing down with a smirk. She folded her arms and pouted. I rose, kissing her hand. “Happy birthday, my princess.” I grinned at the mortal girl. She pulled her hand away.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t want to be celebrated,” she growled. She shook her head. “This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for—”

“I rescued you from the others, dear. I’m your Prince Charming for the day.” I take her hand again as I bring her toward my horse. She flushed. I beamed. I leant in and whispered, “Or I’ll be your bad boy, if that’s more your thing.” She shoved me, rolling her eyes.

“Stop it,” she huffs. She turned to the horse. “How am I going to get up  onto . . . ?” I lifted her, and she yelped. She climbed onto him side-saddle. I smiled excitedly.

“Today shall be wonderful,” I vow, climbing on next to her. She wrapped her arms tightly around my waist. I was trying to make a scene, having the entire street celebrate with me. I saw some girls gape in jealousy, some men, too. I smirked in victory. My princess, I thought. Mine. My success made me giddy, but because of an opposite cause. I could tell they were staring at her, not me.

I think it was the fact that the was not only seen as I saw her, but I didn’t have to share her.

I told the horse to move, feeling (Y/N) grip tighter. I chuckled, turning so I could see her out of the corner of my eye. “Haven’t you rode before?” She shook her head, seeming to be panicked. “Don’t worry, darling. I would never let you fall.”

I made way down to the park, making sure to get some of my brother’s friends to see our wonderful lady by my side. He said they would be by that coffee shop, Avenger Beans. As we passed, I caught a brief flash of Thor’s thoughts. He was admiring my lady, with some death threats directed toward me. He was jealous, too? Glorious.

“Loki, look, it’s Thor!” (Y/N) giggled. She waved. Thor waved back. I rolled my eyes. Thor . . . always the ladies’ choice. I looked back at (Y/N), thinking about being nice to my brother for once. Maybe my princess would smile more.

“Would you like to say hello?” I ask. She shook her head, her face dark at my suggestion. My heart skipped a beat. “Why not?” I press, arching a brow. I puckered my lips.

“I’m spending my birthday with my Prince Charming?” She said it like it was a question, or stating the obvious. I felt my face grow hot, the corners of my mouth moving to my ears. She giggled again. She was probably humoring me. But there was a possibility that she meant it. . . .

“You’re so easily amused,” she says. (Y/N) was wrong, but I didn’t tell her that. She was only of the only things (and people) I smiled for.

I watched as Thor glared at me. It felt nice to have claim to something he wanted just as badly as I did. (I didn’t just want her, I loved her.) I sat up a little higher than before, now that I could see his uncomfortable expression. This girl chose me, I thought with a realization. My heart beat hard.

“Where do you want to go, dear?” I asked. She pointed to Central Park. I looked back at her and grinned. She did too, but belatedly realized what I was up to. I bundled the horse’s reigns in my hands. Her eyes went wide as my lips tugged into a maniac’s smile.

“No, no, no, no!” she protested, but not in time. I snapped the reigns, and the horse ran. She laughed, holding on tightly. “Too fast!” I shook my head. She gripped my shoulders. My cape flapped as we sped by. She latched on to me.

“Never!” I laughed. “One day, you and I will ride on the steeds of Asgard! Much, much faster.” She held on more fondly at the mention of One day. Perhaps she felt the same way that I did. She rested her head on my shoulder.

“You make it sound like I’ll marry you,” she said to me, her breath tickling my ear. She kissed my earlobe. I gave her a cheeky grin.

“Nothing is stopping you!” I laugh. She turned that dark, blushy color.  I beamed. “If I proposed right now, what would you do?”

“I haven’t heard one, so we’ll never know,” she replied. It was my turn to go red. I reigned in the horse, slowing us down. I slid off again, an idea coming to my brain. “Loki?”

“If I proposed right now, what would you do?” I asked again, serious instead of joking. She swallowed. Her thoughts were clear to me. What if this is a joke? Would he laugh if I told him I’d say yes? My heart beat rapidly. She would say yes?

“What would you do?” I ask again, desperate to hear the words from her mouth.

“I would say yes,” she starts, seeing my my face light up. “But I’d tell you I would want to hear you say how you feel about me first”—she slid off, too, into my arms—“get down on one knee”—(Y/N) wrapped her arms around my neck—“and pledge your heart to me like a fairytale bad boy prince.” She smirked at me.

I took her hands. I sunk to one knee. “(Y/N),” I start, doing exactly as she said, “I love you. I promise you my heart for as long as I live. I’d kill, as well as save, a planet for you. Will you be my princess, (Y/N)? Will you marry me?” I grinned as she tried hard not to laugh. Though we were both serious, this whole manner was unforgettable.

She looked around at the crowd of people who were watching. She blinked back happy tears. Had I truly made her cry? She took a deep breath, trying to speak, but ended up laughing and sobbing. She just nodded. “Yeah.”

I kiss her hands. “I don’t have a ring but—” I try to say, but she stopped me.

“The horns,” she joked. “Engagement crown.” She giggled, pulling me up. I wipe her eyes. She kissed me, standing on her toes. “How about this? It’s semi-official until you get a ring.”

“Excellent,” I agree. “Engaged to be engaged.” I kissed her forehead. “We only have so long, princess. Let’s hurry.” I lift her back onto the horse, following suite.

“Where did you get this idea?” she questioned, obviously about her birthday. “Why did you decide to do it this way?” I brought our horse into the gateway of the park as I thought about my answer.

“Nat said something about almost every little girl wanting to have a prince at least once. I kind of became obsessed with making a point.” I cleared my throat. “It was truly just a dare, though,” I lie. She nodded.

“Suuuure. And the silver?” she asked, kissing my neck. Was she distracting on purpose now?

“Just our colors, love. Silver and gold. Green to match.” I kissed her hand, getting down, and helping her as well. “I’ll park the horse.”

***

Your POV

I was still in the same outfit as before by the time we walked into the party. (It seemed there was no way of escaping it after all.) Tony walked in, beaming at Loki and I.

“You dressed up the birthday girl?” he asked, looking me over. Loki stood a little closer. It made me uneasy to be the very center of attention.

“Indeed. I also took her for a ride around the city.” Loki wrapped his arm around me. I felt my cheeks warm again. He kissed one of them before whispering something into Tony’s ear. His eyes widened.

“You—?” Loki nodded, cutting him off.

Tony quickly turned his focus on me, putting a box in my hand, pulling me by my other. “Come on, kid. I have everyone here now, so I need you to be the the guest of honor like you’re supposed to.” He drug me out to the living room where the other Avengers were, along with a mountain of presents. I swallowed. I looked behind me.

Loki didn’t follow. I frowned. I tried to look farther, but Tony turned me back to facing forward. “So how’s Reindeer Games?” Tony mutters, smiling. I flushed.

“He’s fine,” I squeaked. He led me over to the huge group of people. I moved as slowly as I could. “Tony did you really have to do this?” I whisper furiously.

“Yes,” he said. “Now go have fun.” An element was off, like he was hiding something. I vaguely wondered what it was. Was it what Loki said to him?

----

“Open the next one,” Nat said happily. A book, definitely. From Nat and Clint. Okay. I ripped the paper. I grinned, against my own morals about books. Bruce had gotten me a necklace. Tony had bought me a dress. Thor made me a knife.

“Romeo and Juliet?” I gasped. “Thank you!” I set it on the other presents I got. I looked behind me. I had heard a sound. “Does anyone know where Loki went?”

“NO.” Tony said that way too fast. I narrow my eyes. Thor was coughing on his coffee. Something was definitely up. The others looked at the two. I blindly accepted the next present from Nat’s hands, my eyes never leaving Iron Man and the God of Thunder.

“Okayyy . . . ,” I said. “Who is this from?” I was told by Sam.

We spent maybe another two hours doing presents before Loki walked in. He seemed nervous. I smiled at him as he sat down. My lover wrapped his arms around me. “Sorry for the delay. I had some business to take care of, princess.”

***Hours Later***

Loki POV

“Loki!” (Y/N) whined with happiness. “I said no more gifts.” She hung onto me. I chuckled, kissing her happy face. I tickle her back with my fingers. It had been several hours since we left the party, even more since we left the park. I had made sure not to ruin her lovely face before as I kissed it all over.

“Well, this one can slip by your order, my love,” I tell her. She sighed.

“Fine,” she spat. She snuggled into my bare blue chest, pulling up the blanket, peeking up at me. I smiled softly, tucking her hair out of her face. “What is it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, while Tony and Thor kept you busy, I went back to Asgard for an hour or so and was able to get my mother’s ring, and—”

“You what?” She sat up, eyes wide. I was afraid I had upset her. She covered her mouth in shock. “Your mother’s?” I nodded slowly.

“Yes,” I whisper, easing her back down. “It was the only thing I could think of that would be worthy for you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck lovingly, suddenly. I made a noise of surprise.

“Oh, Loki!” she cried, kissing my face. I kissed back, rolling on to my side. She kisses me so passionately.

“Would you like to see it?” I ask. She nodded. I took it out. She gaped.

“Loki, it’s beautiful,” she whispers. I slipped it on her finger.

“I love you,” I say.

“You’re my Prince Charming,” she giggled.

[ryik-the-writer]

Note: I started this fic way back in 2016, and had this Thanksgiving-themed chapter planned in advance.

Over four years and several bouts of depression-induced writers blocks later, I’m glad to finally get it out. 

I present to you: Marinara Main - Burnt Bits I . Feat. Rumbelle and a big dash of baby! swanfire.

A03

Mr. Gold pulled into Belle’s next stop, smiling at her apologetic grin as she jumped out and grabbed two pizzas from the back and bounded up the stairs to her customer’s home.

It had been two months since Belle’s French Bread’s business car had burst into flames, setting off a chain of events that involved him lending his assistance, or just his vehicle really, on her deliveries and them dating on the side. It was where they could be together without the mocking or overbearing look from the town. It was theirs, and even if Belle was delivering pizzas and Gold was just watching from the window, they were together and having the seats smell like melted cheese was worth every second.

“How’d it go?” he inquired when she jumped back in the front seat.

She leaned in and kiss his 5 o’clock shadowed cheek. “$6 tip.”

“Hmm. I should have glared at him a little more, make him drop a full $10.”

Belle gave him an unamused look. “I asked you not to scare my customers.”

“Just making sure they’re not gouging you, dear.”  

Belle sighed. She knew her sweetheart meant well, but she valued her independence. She swallowed her pride when he offered her his car for the sake of her family’s business, and held her head tall when she moved into his spare room after her accident, but drew the line with him bullying her customers into paying her sums she wasn’t offered.

It was there last delivery of the night so Belle decided to drop the disagreement for now. She had other things to worry about anyway.

“Didn’t you say Bae had an old bike gathering dust in your garage?”

“I’ve began using it as a garden decoration it’s been sitting around for so long. Why?”

“How much would you want for it?” she hated equating money into their conversations. It was gross reminder of their status difference, something he swore up and down he kept forgetting about but haunted her.

Mr. Gold slowed to a stop at the stop light. “Belle, I apologize for earlier. I was just being facetious, I swear.”

Belle paused. “Thank you for that, but what does that have to do with the bike?”

“You don’t want me to drive you around anymore.”

Belle cringed at the accusation. “That’s not it at all!”

He sagged in his seat with relief and Belle couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing when he joined her. They really needed to work on not jumping to conclusions.

“What do you need a bike for then?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you working on Thanksgiving.” She answered.

Gold looked at her. “Your father is making you work on the holiday? Is he mad?”

Belle rolled her eyes. She wondered sometimes if her father really was.

“No, just blinded by dollar signs. I read him something about how in China people have fried chicken instead of turkey and now he’s convinced that if we’re open people will forgo the turkey and order a pizza.”

“Logical.” Gold deadpanned, speeding up at the green light. “As for the bike, never you mind. You can borrow my car.”

“Won’t you and Bae be going away for the holiday?”

Mr. stared at the road ahead. “It’s always been just the two of us. Not much to celebrate really.”

Belle felt her heart sink, knowing that story all too well. After her mom died, Belle had her father spent many holidays in their quiet home with TV dinners in their laps and a game blaring. After he opened the business, holidays got livelier but there was still this sickening loneliness that bounced around in her gut.

“Well, I’ll just have to convince my dad to close shop early.”

Gold blinked from his gaze and turned to her. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to need his help turkey shopping if we’re having you and Bae over.”

Gold startled back the horn, his hands flinching around a he tried to grasp the proposition.

“I…no Belle really. We couldn’t impose.”

“You’d be doing me a favor actually. I haven’t had a proper Thanksgiving meal in years.”

Gold pulled into the parking lot of French Bread. He wanted to say know, wanted to save her the burden of having him invade her home on a day that was restricted for family. However, he couldn’t resist the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

He sighed and nodded. Belle squealed and nearly jumped into his seat, kissing him roughly on the cheek.

“This is going to be great! I got to go make out a menu! I’ll call you tomorrow!”

He said nothing as she charged from his car to her business. He waited until the light came on before he made his way quietly home.

After checking on Bae’s homework situation, he stepped into his office and discretely pulled out the antique ring he had planned to offer Belle.

He wanted to be excited, and in a way, he was. His son would be able to have more festive holiday and he’d be able to spend more time with Belle, and hopefully find the right time to ask her the big question.

But crowds were not his forte, and he still wasn’t sure how her “boys” felt about him, let alone her father. He did not want to face another kidnapping escapde like he did on “poker night.”

Sighing, he left the ring alone for now, making a mental note to stop by the liquor store on his way to Belle’s tomorrow for two bottles of wine: one for tonight and another for the holiday.

-,-,-,-,-

Belle double-checked her table setting as fidgeted around the small kitchen of her and her father’s apartment.

Five plates were set: her and her father’s, Mr. Gold’ and Bae’s, and a guest her father had invited that may or may not show up.

Jefferson and Grace were heading to Jefferson’s in-laws, whom they both hated but had to visit at least once a year to avoid a nasty custody battle (which often lead to a week of pre-panic attacks from Jefferson; thank God they put that cot in the backroom).

Merlin was heading to dinner near Boston for a football game, and then to a children’s hospital, and Will was meeting Anastasia’s parents for the first time and asked only for prayers.

Belle checked the clock; it was just past 12:30 and “dinner” started at 2:30. She never quite understood this tradition of eating so early, but decided not to argue when she had five stomachs to worry about.

Belle hummed as she thought about her father. He had left early in the morning to pick up their “mystery guest”.

Thank Gods.

Moe French had started their pizzeria on a whim all those years ago, and really had no legit culinary skills. If it weren’t for her and Merlin jumping in and secretly taking over, French Bread’s would have literally burned to the ground. All his recipes had to be seriously revamped, but thankfully Moe was out half the time, handling the books or the equipment or something else that kept him far away from the food.  

Just as Belle was checking the turkey’s temperature, a knock thundered through her father’s tiny apartment. Belle panicked a bit. Whoever was at the door was extremely early, and the she had no idea how she would entertain them for two hours while she tried to finish the meal.

She threw her oven mitts on the table and rushed to answered the door before anything burned, blinking at who was there.

“Hey,” Jefferson smiled shyly.

“Hi Jeff,” Belle greeted, stepping aside to allow them entry. “What can I…”

She glanced around him and noticed Grace wasn’t with him, which wasn’t a surprise, but he was supposed to be with her.

Belle asked bit urgently. It was no secret that Jefferson had major issues with his late-girlfriend’s family. They never thought he was good enough for her, and all but disowned her when she fell pregnant. Following her death when Grace was just over a year old, they suddenly wanted sole custody. Pinning down a job at French Bread’s had been the first step to securing Grace’s future, and Belle had been so patience with his back-and-forth court dates while he sorted himself out.

She only hoped something wasn’t stopping him from attending his mandatory dinner.

“What’s going on?”

“They um…” Jefferson shrugged. “I…decided not to go.”

Belle eyed him carefully, seeing the bags under his eyes.

“Ah,” Belle said with an affirmative nod, knowing now that she couldn’t turn him away, holiday or not. Her and the rest of the French Bread’s crew were all he really had.

She stepped aside. “You’re on dishes duty.”

“Deal!” Jefferson gasped, pulling her close and giving her a smack on the cheek so loud it made Belle’s ears ring.

“Down boy!” Belle hissed, giving him a playful smack. “You stir the beans while I move the table around.”

Belle had just placed two more plates down when someone knocked on the door yet again.

She answered it with a huff, and was a bit surprised to see Merlin enter, a brown bag in his hand.

“Hi,” she greeted a bit uneasily. Merlin had left after closing yesterday to make his trip, and wasn’t due back until Sunday. By the look on his face, he hadn’t stopped to rest.

She ushered him to the kitchen where Jefferson pulled out a chair for him to sit.

“What is it?” she asked earnestly, unnerved to see her strong-minded friend in such a state.

“Nimue was at my hotel,”

Belle and Jefferson both paled. Belle didn’t know all the details about Merlin’s borderline insane ex-girlfriend, but did know that he came to Storybrooke to get away from her.

“How did she know you were there?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin sighed, exhausted. “I saw her before she saw me, and I got out of there as fast as possible,”

Belle nodded, sharing a look with Jefferson.

“How about you stay for dinner,” Belle insisted. “We’ll walk you home tonight.”

Merlin began to stand, muttering something about not wanting to impose, and Belle had to stand on her toes to weigh him down.

“You’re imposing as much as Jefferson over here is,” Belle joked. “Help me figure out this new table arrangement.”

As her friends helped her in the kitchen, Belle glanced down at her phone. Nothing from Gold or Bae yet.

Belle frowned, wondering what was keeping her kind-of boyfriend and his son, and more importantly if she was going to be able to fit them in her tiny apartment now that there were so many extra people.

Just as she about to pull out the chair she had in her bedroom, the doorbell sounded once more.

“I’ll get it,” Merlin volunteered. Like Belle, he hoped it was the Gold’s.

The resounded “oh” he released afterwards gave Belle the answer she needed.

“Hello darlings!” came a high accented voice.

Everyone turned as a tall blonde woman head to toe in scarlet entered Belle’s tiny living room, wearing sunglasses that left only the tip of her nose exposed.

She gasped and inspected Belle’s home like a tourist who has stepped foot onto Time Square for the first time, even looking at her and her guests like they were performers.

Merlin and Belle exchanged curious looks, and just as she was about to ask who the tell was in her home, Will came bounding through the house, throwing a series of suitcases into her entryway.

He collapsed against the door, looking up with her a nervous smile.

“Hey…”

“Hi,” Belle greeted, eyeing the blond as she examined her father’s dusty shelf of knickknacks. “What’s uh…what’s going on, Will?”

Just as she said that the woman turned around, approaching Belle with a wide smile.

“Darling, thank you so much for having us,” she said as she kissed Belle’s cheek.

Belle stared at her wide-eyed, shooting another at Will.

“You remember, Belle,” Will said with a strained smile. “You said you wanted Ana and I here for Thanksgiving and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Of course…” she said, her mind going into overdrive as she struggled to think how she was going to fit nine damn people at two-person table.

She snuck a calming breath. This is what holidays were about, and there was no way in Hell she was turning Will, a man she saw as a brother, out the door.

Besides, she and the other men of French Bread’s were wondering about this mystery girl Will would take weekends off to see, would take extra shifts for so that he could make a few extra bucks. The four of them had everything on the table when it came to each other, all their past and present secrets.

Or so Belle thought.

Still, she smiled whole-heartedly. “It’s great to meet you, Ana,”

Ana offered a wide, glass-like smile. “Thank you, your home is so,” she glanced around. “…simple!”

All the goodwill Belle was ready to extend crumbled around her, and it was then all the little details Belle had noticed about her had gathered together.

High quality clothes and accessories, gawking at simple, working people.

She was a rich bitch. Like Regina, like countless other people who turned her nose up at people like them.

Belle glanced at Will. Did he know? Did he care?

His gaze was pitiful, begging her not to say anything.

He did know then. Belle felt a bite of betrayal on her heart. Why would he deliberately associate with someone like her, someone who would only hurt him.

A calming hand met her shoulder, and Belle met Merlin’s warning glare.

“Ana,” he greeted. “Please make yourself at home. Belle, Will and I are going to work on the seating situation.”

Ana nodded, a pleased gasp escaping her lips when she studied her father’s tacky decorations.

Merlin steered Belle and Will into the kitchen where he and Jefferson had watched the exchange.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Will,” Belle sighed exhaustedly.

“It was really last-minute, I’m sorry,” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,”

Will’s gaze melted into a glare. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay,” Merlin said, moving between them. “How about we try to get through dinner before we start class warfare, okay?”

Belle and Will glared at each other, but it was Belle’s whose gaze lowered first.

“You’re right,” Belle agreed. “We have to figure out this seat issue before we all end up in the park.”

Will met her smile. They’d work it out, but now they had to make an already stressful day suitable for everyone, including his unexpected guest.

“What if we ate on the floor, Chinese-style?” Jefferson suggested.

They all chuckled, the sour mood broken some.

“That might be our only option, hands in everyone,”

Four hands piled on each other as a plan came into place. They were putting on Thanksgiving dinner even if a wall had to be torn down.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

                                                          0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Meanwhile…

“Stop moving!” Emma gnashed Baelfire as she glared at his puffy finger under the high-powered magnified glass in his father’s study, the glistening stone of Belle’s hopefully-soon-to-be engagement ring glistening.

“Sorry,” Bae sniffed, and Emma sighed.

“Hold it together, Bae,” Emma warned gently, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder. “This isn’t…well actually this is your fault.”

“It’s as much as my fault as it is yours,” Bae barked. It had been a joke, when he tried on the ring he found on his father’s desk. He’d brought it to Emma and the two gushed and joked at the engagement that was to come, ready to giddily tease Bae’s father when he came out of the shower, and get the details about the obvious proposal on the way. But when Bae had slipped it on—just as a joke mind you— he knew instantly there was a problem. It was too tight, and his finger began turning pink from the strain.

Now they were struggling to get the thing off, half dressed in their holiday best for Thanksgiving dinner.

Emma released an aggravated sigh. “We’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

“But we’ll lose the ring!”

“I think your dad would rather lose the ring than your finger!” Emma argued.

Bae pondered quickly. This would ruin everything.

The ring had belonged to his dad’s Aunt Genevieve, one half of the spinster aunts that raised him. They died long before Bae was even born, but with all the stories he told of them, of how much they loved each other during a time where the law and world wouldn’t see them as one, he already knew them.

The ring was one of love, one that his father had held onto and hadn’t even given to Bae’s mother (she was more of a diamond person). But Belle would appreciated the story behind it, and she would wear it with pride.

No!

Bae jumped up and began desperately searching for anything that could be used to slide off the ring.

“Let’s go get some dish soap,” Bae began to suggest when the sound of his father leaving the bathroom echoed from the hall.

“Well, we’re screwed,” Emma shrugged.

“Not yet,” Bae denied, mind reeling with thought. If his dad caught them, they’d be at the hospital with a saw before they knew what hit them!

“Check the desks,” Bae suggested in a hoarse whispered. “Maybe he has ink or oil from his antiques or something!”

Emma gasped. “We have baby oil at my place! We can sneak it out before my parents catch on!”

“Yes!” Bae hissed, heading to the door.

“Bae, where are you?” Gold called close by, causing Emma and Bae to shrink back.

Emma glanced around and made a b-line to the window. She opened it and made a quick survey of the distance and began stepping out.

“What are you doing!” Bae hissed, panicked.

“What does it look like?” Emma hissed back. “We should be find if we jump from here.”

“Jump! Off the roof?” Bae squeaked.

Emma glared up at him from her place near the gutters. “You want to risk it or you want to wait for your dad to find us and kill you for sure.”

Bae glanced back to the door where he could hear his father moving about. With a groan, he stepped out of the window, gripping the tiles for dear life as Emma led them to the draining pipe.

“Hold on tight and slowly slide down,” Emma instructed, easing onto the pipe.

“How do you know about this?” Bae whined as he watched her slide down like a firefighter on a pole.

Emma gave him a look when she hit the ground, placing her hands on her hips and waiting for him expectedly.

Gulping, Bae took hold of the pipe, trying to steady his breathing as he tried to gain a hold. He tried to up it with his shoes, but slipped instantly, having to grab the gutter to keep from falling.

“Shit, shit!” Emma gasped as Bae hung from the gutter. “Just…don’t think about the ground!”

“Thanks for the adv—”

The gutter snapped, and Bae managed to hold onto the bending metal until it started snapping off the foundation and Bad landed head-first into a neatly trimmed shrub.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Emma panicked, grabbing hold of Bae’s leg. “Please be alive, please be alive…”

Bae groaned and slowly sat up, his face scratched and eyes unfocused.

“Anything feel broken?” Emma asked as she carefully picked leaves and twigs out of his curls.

“My brain’s still shaking, hang on,” Bae groaned.

“Bae?” Gold’s voice echoed from the office above.

“Break’s over!” Emma hissed, grabbing Bae and dragged him through the back garden and down the street.

                                                    0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Mary Margaret Nolan was –understandably – quite surprised when she answered the door and found the young Baelfire Gold and her daughter standing on her steps.

“Hi Mrs. Nolan,” Bae greeted with just the lightest air of nervousness.

“Hi, Bae,” Mary Margaret greeted uncertainly. “I…wasn’t expecting you. Emma, it’s nearly dinner time. Your grandparents are here…”

“He won’t be here long,” Emma cut in, grabbing Bae’s arm and drug him up the stairs.

“Hold it,” Mary Margaret called after them. “You know the rules, Emma…”

“We’re not going to my room!” Emma called back, rolling her eyes. She never understood why her parent’s suddenly put the “no boys in bedroom” rule in place earlier that year. Bae’s dad let them be by their selves at their place, especially on their video game-movie-pizza nights in the basement.

Oh well.

Keeping a glance over her shoulder, she led Bae to baby Neal’s room, watching every step to avoid making even the slightest noise.

“Maybe I should do it,” Bae suggested when they stood outside his room.

“No,” Emma resisted, slowly turning the knob. “If he sees you, he might freak out. Just be quiet.”

Bae rolled his eyes but stayed outside the room, waiting impatiently as Emma tip-toed into her baby brother’s room to grab the baby oil.

His father was bound to start calling him or the Nolan’s soon. They needed to get the ring off and back to his place soon.

“Find it yet, Emma?” Bae hissed as he opened the door a crack, meeting baby Neal’s large green eyes.

Bae grinned nervously at the babe, not entirely sure how to act around children. Apparently it wasn’t the right thing because Neal burst out screaming at the site of him.

“Damn it Bae,” Emma cursed, grabbing his arm and pulling him from Neal’s room as Mrs. Nolan called up the stairs.

Emma dragged him into the bathroom just as Mary Margaret sped up the steps to comfort Neal, leaving the two teens holding their breaths and listening to every step she took.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand to hold over the sink, dousing it with baby oil and trying desperately to yank the ring off.

“You’re pulling my whole damn finger!” Bae cursed, yanking away hard and hitting the door.

Emma dropped the baby oil, the plastic echoing through the small bathroom sounding like a bomb.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice rang, knocking on the door a second later.

Emma quickly locked it, flinching when her mother gasped and began wriggling the knob.

“Emma Ruth Nolan what is going on in there!”

Bae muttered a word that his father would have grounded him a month for while Emma began pushing open the tiny bathroom window.

“We’ve got to risk it,” she gasped, her blond locks flying wildly as she judged their distance.

“Oh…no!” Bae shook his head, stepping back. “I am not going through another window!”

Mary Margaret continued to pound on the door, shaking the knob profusely.

“That’s it young lady…David!”

Emma and Bae stiffened. David Nolan was a great man, but as a father he was more terrifying than a rabid bat in a Halloween haunted house when it came to his children’s well-being.

As they heard the Nolan patriarch’s boots shake the house, Emma and Bae scrambled to the window, now suddenly eager to make a quick get-away.

“Me first, he wants my blood!” Bae hissed.

“No!” Emma seethed, pushing Bae away by his face. “Me first, and watch me this time so you don’t die!”

Bae reluctantly stepped back and helped Emma ease out of the small bathroom window legs-first, sweating profusely as Mrs. Nolan relayed the locked door situation to Mr. Nolan.

“Hurry it up!” he begged as Emma grabbed his collar to pull him unceremoniously through the tiny window as her father began banging on the door.

“You have a big head, Bae!” Emma snapped as they struggled to get his shoulders through the window. Hearing Mr. Nolan’s booming voice threatening to break the door (and Bae’s legs—thought that may have been his anxiety spiraling), Bae wormed his way out until he clutching the tiles of Emma’s roof.

Emma had already located the steady gutter near her room and called out to Bae to follow her lead.

“Slowly…slowly!” she instructed as Bae struggled to grasp onto the gutters with his swollen finger. “Our gutters are cheaper than yours.”

Bae growled as he slid down the tiles, the toe of his shoe sliding over the metal of the gutter.

Just as he thought he had a chance to get off this damn roof without injury, the tell-all sound of the bathroom door bursting open shocked him to the point that he lost his grip on the roof and went spiraling down.

Emma released the drain and flew down the extra five feet, hitting the ground hard.

“Bae?” she cried, helping her friend turn over.

Bae groaned, holding his head as he looked at his best friend.

“We’re having a talk about all this when this is over.”

Emma smirked and helped him up. “Let’s get to Belle’s.”

Just as the words left her mouth the two youths heard a loud bang from upstairs.

They managed to squeeze behind a hedge before Emma’s head shot out of the window, his murderous gaze burning into the ground.

“Baelfire Gold you better have one hell of an explanation for this or I’m going to shake one from you!”

Sweaty bullets ran down the young Gold’s back, his body numb even as Emma began dragging him away.

“We got to go!”

“I…I think I’m having a heart attack…”

“Move it!”

                                          0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gold searched the misty streets of Storybrooke as calmly as his racing mind would allow.

Bae had snuck out for some odd reason, and if he didn’t have the explanation of his lifetime he’d be grounded until he graduated high school!

To add to the mystery, he could have sworn he’d heard Emma in his office as well.

The pawnbroker sighed and wondered if he had to give Bae the old birds and the bees talk again. His son was a few months shy of 15, and had been more than responsible when it came to such matters since the last time they had that talk last year, especially when it came to Emma Nolan.

He trusted his son to mind himself around the Sherriff’s daughter, and had shown any romantic interest in her. Why Gold didn’t want to jump to conclusions, he was worried that those interests may be changing if they were locking themselves in rooms now.

Just as he was about to turn around, the all too familiar sound of police sirens wailed behind him, the mulit-colored lights instantly causing his head to throb.

“I don’t have time for this!” he cursed, jumping out of the car as they both pulled to a stop.

Sherriff David Nolan stepped out, looking unamused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to leave a car when a cop pulls you over?”

Gold glared at his sometimes acquaintance. He and David got along like sheep and sheep dogs: they did much better a part, and there wasn’t a promise that teeth wouldn’t be used during their encounters.

“When an actual cop pulls me over, I’ll remember that,” Gold snarled.

David frowned. “Okay, enough niceties, I saw your son and my daughter jump out of my bathroom window. I want to know why and where they are now. I have angry in-laws and an even angrier wife, and I am not going back to them without my daughter.”

Gold’s eyes widened. It was worse than he thought. Something was going on with them, and he needed to get to them before they got into any more trouble.

And there was really only one person he could think of that his son would run to.

“I’m not sure, but I will find them,” Gold said, returning to his car.

“Hold it,” David said, placing a hand on the hood of Gold’s car. “You know something, so either I come with you or we can settle this at the station.

Gold gave him a bland look. They both knew David wouldn’t dare, but like Gold, he was a terrified parent and would make any threats necessary to ensure the safety of his daughter.

He motioned to the passenger door, hoping Belle wouldn’t mind an extra guest for the holiday.

��Get in.”

                                            0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Belle managed to hold her tongue as the blonde bombshell gawked at her cooking. It was cute in a way, honestly, her general interest, but Belle couldn’t decide if it was out of delight or judgment.

She glanced into the living room where Will and the rest of the men were rearranging furniture to accommodate for all the extra people. He looked at her as well, begging her to accept Ana.

Belle sighed. “Would you…like to help?”

Ana’s well-manicured hands shot up. “Oh no, darling. I’ve never worked in a kitchen before.”

Belle held back a snort and helped Ana position the bowl of sweet potatoes she had been mashing and showed her how to hold the masher.

“Just keep crushing them until their smooth, no lumps. Then we’re going to put them in a dish and cover it with brown sugar and marshmallows for a casserole.”

Ana’s eyes widened as she awkwardly mashed the potatoes.

“Is this…a meal…all people eat?”

Belle bristled a bit. “It’s pretty popular for this holiday, though I don’t mind eating it whenever sweet potatoes are on sale.”

Ana paused. “You eat discounted food?”

Belle gripped the counter. “Yes, some of us can’t afford lobster and steak every night.”

“What was that?”

“I said I need to check on the turkey,” Belle replied, and it was both the true and a distraction.

Belle opened the boiling oven and poked at her crisping bird. It was the first she had made that wasn’t from a bag, and she wanted it to be perfect…as perfect at her pizza making skills would allow that is.

As she was reapplying the tin foil, Ana came to look over her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s so hot!” she laughed, the sound light and chirpy.

“Maybe don’t get so closed to it,” Belle muttered, slamming the oven shut.

Ana jumped back, tensing when Belle brushed past her.

Belle returned to cutting vegetables for the dressing, Ana coming beside her to continue smashing the smooth potatoes paste.

Belle glanced to the living room at Will’s pleading glance and continued to force conversation for his sake.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Belle inquired.

“Oh,” Ana answered cheerfully. “A little of this, a little of that. Usually I’m in a plane being catered off to some event or another.”

Belle hummed, unsurprised. “Sounds nice.”

“Will tells me you own your own business,” Ana offered.

“You’re standing above it,” Belle returned, chuckling a bit. She was rather surprised to hear Ana return the sediment.

At least she had a sense of humor. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Of course, business would be charitable at best.”

Belle’s knife stilled, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“I…beg your pardon?”

Ana giggled, not yet knowing the beast she was about to unleash.

“Oh, it’s a sweet little hobby, darling, but you can’t possibly find it profitable,” Ana said, sweet as overly sugared coffee.

Belle gripped the knife she was holding, struggling to hold back all the nasty instincts she had to smash the blonde in front of her.

Yet…Ana was right.

French Bread had been operating in the red for years, but they’d always been pretty well off. Moe managed to keep everyone employed however, and were overall comfortable.

Belle had never looked at her business as a hobby. She saw it as a lifeline, one that she liked at that.

She made something that people liked. She offered her business for fundraisers for the local schools, and took pizzas to families after a loss or birth.

She was a member of this community, and damn it she was a business owner, no matter what she made.

Before she could defend her very livelihood—or even throw Ana’s arse out—Baelfire and a panting Emma Nolan came bustling in, slamming the door and locking it as if they were being chased.

“Bae?” Belle gasped. “What on earth—”

“You got to help us!” Emma gasped, grabbing Bae’s hand.

“No,” he protested, squirming in her grip.

Emma dragged him to her level, glaring fiercely.

“My dad’s probably on his way here with a hatchet, and I do want to jump out of another window!”

“Wait, what?” Belle demanded.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand up, showing Belle his swollen finger.

Belle gasped. “Bae, why are you wearing this?”

Bae gulped, glancing at Emma. “I…well…you see…”

Belle shook her head and led him to the couch.

“Merlin, can you grab my first aid kit? It’s under the bathroom sink.”

Merlin nodded and set off.

“Will, I need some ice, we need to get the swelling down.”

“I’ll get it!” Ana volunteered, practically skipping to the kitchen. “Oh, ice trays, how cute!”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Will…”

Will quickly got the ice from Ana, handing it to Bae without meeting Belle’s eyes.

“Crazy day, eye lad?”

“Yeah…” Bae said, wincing as Belle examined his hand.

“What happened, and where’s your dad?” Belle inquired.

“Probably right on our asses,” Emma muttered. Jefferson chuckled.

Merlin handed Belle the kit and winced at the purple digit.

“Maybe we should get Whale down here?

“NO!” Bae and Emma shouted.

“He’ll cut it,” Bae said. “Then it’ll be ruined.”

“I think your dad would be more concerned about Whale cutting off your finger than a ring from his inventory.” Belle said.

Bae looked down guiltily at the ring unknowingly meant for his possible future step-mother.

A family heirloom and a proposal would be lost today on his account. It was almost too much to bare, especially after he nearly died trying to save them both.

It’d hurt to tell Belle, but he was going to be grounded until after new year’s anyway. Might as well attempt to save one.

“Wait, Belle,” Bae begged as she was dialing the number. “I need to tell you—”

A loud pound on the front door cut him off.

“Baelfire Gold,” came David Nolan’s booming voice.

“Shit!” Emma and Bae hissed, instantly searching for a window.

“What on earth…” Belle began as Merlin began to open the door, only to have David push it open with his weight.

His heated stare instantly fell on Bae, and then on his sweating daughter.

“What is going on with you two?” he demanded.

“Dad, I can explain!” Emma swore as Bae shot up to stand behind her.

He looked back and forth between the two teens, and then finally the ring on Bae’s finger.

“Oh hell no!” he exclaims, jumping to the most severe conclusion.

Bae and Emma followed his glare, paled, and then looked at each other.

“Whoa, no, no!” she burst.

“You two are too young to get married have you lost your mind!” he yelled.

Belle stepped in front of the teens, trying to bring peace back into her living room.

“David, don’t be ridiculous,” Belle instantly defended, ducking beside Bae. “Right?”

“No!” Bae burst, pulling away from Belle. “This whole thing is because—”

The door flew open once more and Mr. Gold burst in, panting like he just ran a marathon.

“I told you to wait for me, Nolan!” he barked. “There’s three flights of steps to get through!”

“It’s a good thing I’m here, they were about to run off together!” the deputy fought.

Gold looked at his son, eyes instantly drawn to his swollen finger and the ring suffocating it.

He paled a bit, and looked at a frazzled Belle, and then the other guests in her home who looked just as confused as she (except the blonde who looked amused —who was she?)

“Belle,” he began, gripping his cane tightly. “I can explain.”

“You explain in the station,” David said, heading to Bae. “We’re going to have a talk young man—”

Gold stepped in front of him, snarling like a wolf protecting its cub.

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh this is exciting!” Ana cheered.

“For god’s sake.” Belle groaned.

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Merlin tried to sooth as Gold and David went at each other.

“Your son is a menace!”

“Your daughter was the one who was dragging him out of windows!”

“Oh my god I want to die!”

The piercing sound of the ancient fire alarm screaming through the air.

Jefferson fist-pumped the air.  “Yelling feels really good right now!”

Belle looked around at her chaos-filled living room, her heart clenching.

All she wanted was a nice dinner with her friends and family – the first real nice dinner she’d had in years at that!

Jaw clenched, blood boiling, she turned to step into the kitchen, Will and Merlin watching her carefully.

Grabbing her broom, she aimed the handle at the screaming fire detector and promptly stabbed it, the thing slowly dying with a low whine.

The room became quiet, all eyes turning to the fuming woman. Even Ana had stilled, this part of the simple life mostly unappealing.

Belle turned to turn off the stove and donned oven mitts, glaring at Merlin when he offered to assist.

She removed the scorched bird, taking a moment to mourn what could have been, before turning to her terrified onlookers.

“You,” she growled, pointing at Gold. “You said you could explain, so tell me, what the everlasting hell is happening here tonight?”

Gold gaped at her, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell if he was utterly terrified of her or madly in love.

Well, the later was a no-brainer. That was the whole reason he had delicately cleaned his great-aunt’s ring. He wanted her in his life as long as she would have him.

He looked at his son. The boy was no doubt facing a very long probation for putting him through all this, but he very honestly looked remorseful.

Gold looked at Belle, beautiful, bright, brilliant Belle. The woman he loved. The woman who’d brought so much life into his gray world.

Belle continued to stare at him expectantly, and Gold knew he needed to act now if he didn’t want to get sent through a window.

He turned to his son, frowning, and held out his hand.

Confused, Bae reached out his ringed-hand, and gasped when his father represented his whole hand to Belle.

Gold carefully got down on his good knee, the spectators in the room alighting when the realized what was occurring.

Belle’s face as well melted, her cheeks pinking.

“Belle,” he began. “I love you so much. These last few months have been some of the best of my life and I want to have so many more, years in fact.”

Belle’s knees began to shake. She hadn’t planned for this. She wasn’t ready. They should be somewhere nicer than her dingy apartment. She should be in a nicer dress. They should…they should…

“So as soon as a I pry this ring off my son’s finger…”

Bae winced.

“Clean and resize it, I…I would very much like you to be my wife.”

Belle could only stare, all words lost. Is this what true, unabridged happiness felt like?

“Well?” Jefferson urged, causing Will and Merlin to shush him harshly.

David had already brought out his phone and was recording dutifully.

“For mom?” Emma chuckled.

“Oh yeah, she loves this stuff.”

Belle released a wet laugh, tears building behind her eyes.

“I…I…”

The door swung open before she could answer, her headset father clambering in and shivering.

“Sorry I’m late Be…” he looked around and the myriad of strangers in his living room.

His eyes particularly zeroed in on Gold—the man who almost ruined his business not too long ago—who had hastily released his son’s hand and was slowly rising from his knee.

“What on earth?”

“I…think the market might have one more turkey we can grab,” Merlin suggested, clutching Jefferson and Will’s shoulders. “Let’s go see.”

The two men dared not protest. Will quickly took Ana’s hand and led her from the apartment before Belle went off on them all.

“It was lovely to meet you darlings!” she said, not seeing Belle exaggerated eye roll.

David stopped his phone and poked Emma’s shoulder, motioning that they really needed to leave.

“Bye Bae,” she whispered, signaling for him to text her later as Moe and David nodded awkwardly to each other.

“Well that’s different, the former Australian citizen said.

“I swear dad, there’s a reason for all of this,” Belle gasped, feeling a bit calmer once Gold was straight by her side.

There was a sound outside, and Moe peeked out the door, saying something so soft that Belle nor Gold could pick it.

“We can talk about this later,” Moe said, chirpier than he was a moment ago. “I really need you to meet someone.”

Belle blinked, wondering if this someone was the reason her father had been so absent from his business—and her life—for the last several months.

She glanced at Gold, who was frowning sulkily. A beautiful, abet odd, proposal had been smite, he was hurting.

Belle took hold of his hand, smiling when he met his eyes.

It’s okay, she said, we can try again.

He smiled back, thankful.

Moe stepped aside to allow, to Belle’s slight surprise, a woman enter.

Like Ana, she was elegantly dressed, though didn’t stand out quite like she had.

There was almost a familiarity to her, the way her shoulders straightened and her hands clasped over her hips, like someone in charge.

However, her attention was brought back to her current boyfriend. His hand had fallen from hers, leaving her cold, and confused.

“Belle, I’d like you to meet—”

“Why Mr. Gold,” the woman greeted, carefully.

She stepped forward, and Belle suddenly felt like she was being advanced by a wolf.

“How lovely it is to see you.”

Belle shot to her boyfriend. He was pale, trembling just enough that she could feel the vibrations in the old wood of her apartment floor.

Gold couldn’t find the words he needed. Couldn’t even scream if he so chose to.

The very world around him—years of healing, of running—gone.

All because one woman had returned into his life.

“Cora.”

[saijspellhart]

ML Fluff Month 26: Please

<<Previous ~ Next>>

Read it on AO3

This is part of a collaboration between: @saoirse7ilysi, @yamina20-blog, @ao3bronte, @aknazer and myself in celebration of @miraculousfluffmonth!

26: Please (Adrien/Nino)

Summary: Nino is a dragon-slayer and Adrien is a sexy dragon.

Nino fell to the ground gasping. His lungs aching for air, and every intake of breath straining his chest muscles.

This was it. This was how he would die.

A long shadow fell over him, toxic green eyes boring into his soul.

In all his years as a dragon-slayer he had never begged for mercy. He had always been the champion, the victor. The one that triumphed over mere beasts. To fall this far... how did it happen?

The green-eyed devil slithered ever closer, it's lips peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of fangs, small and sharp as knives, meant for cutting flesh and rending it from bone.

One out-stretched arm came for him, retractable claws bared at the ends of giant cat-like paws.

He couldn't take anymore, he would rather beg for mercy then continue on as this foul creature's plaything.

"Please!" Nino gasped, kicking bits of treasure and attempting to crawl away. "Please stop!"

His cries fell upon deaf ears, just as dragon paws descended upon his torso.

"Adrien! No!" Nino screamed as he began writhing in the gold again, laughter exploding from his chest against his will.

The dragon was relentless, knowing just how to manipulate his claws and toe-beans to tickle the dragon-slayer, rather than maim him.

"Say it!" the dragon snarled.

"Alright! Alright!" Nino shrieked, clawing at the gold but feeling the coins ultimately give under his hands. "We go! Wegowegowegowego!"

The dragon released him, settling back on its haunches in victory and howling a thunderous, "Yesssss!" It was enough to shake the ruins, and make the pillars tremble.

Ashamed and exhausted, Nino collapsed into the gold, two seconds from sobbing. His lungs struggling to push and pull air, and his heart hammering around his ribcage like a smithy.

"This..." he puffed, "is going... to end very... badly."

"Don't be such a pessimist," said Adrien. He stretched his large body out across the piles gold next to Nino and began rolling around, displacing large quantities of coins.

"Dude, someone needs to counter balance your unyielding optimism." Nino sat up and began picking gold coins from his pauldrons, and anywhere else the coins had decided to go. When he shifted his hips he felt some things move that shouldn't ought to be moving like that.

Swell, they're in my pants too. He eyed the large golden beast next to him, and tried to discreetly dig coins out of his crotch.

Luckily Adrien didn't notice, too busy basking in his victory.

"So what's the plan, bro?" He dug the last coin from his pants and hurled it at Adrien, catching the dragon in the ear with it. "The moment we enter a human town, with you looking like... this," He gestured to all of Adrien, "they are going to brandish sword and pitch fork, and if they don't chase you off, they will kill you. Worst case scenario, I'm forced to kill you."

"You wouldn't kill me~" Adrien sang, rolling on to his back and curling his head around to give Nino a big pair of kitten eyes.

"I don't want to kill you, but you'd put me in a position where my only choice would be that, or face execution."

Adrien rose off the ground to his full height, which actually wasn't all that large for a dragon. He was only the length of two horses, not counting his serpentine tail, and as a quadruped he didn't stand much taller than one horse. Although if he stood up on his hind legs he was towering.

He was sleek and feline-esque, with lithe toned muscles under beautiful golden fur. No wings, or spikes, or horns, Adrien was the most beautiful and beast-like dragon Nino had ever encountered, and it would've been a damn shame of slay something so majestic.

Adrien was also the friendliest and most naive dragon that Nino had ever encountered, which led them to their current predicament. Adrien wanted to go see a human town... full of humans.

"This," large claws thrust themselves into Nino's field of vision, showing off a large black Damascus steel band.

"What's this?" Nino didn't dare touch it in case it was cursed, or enchanted. He glanced between the band and Adrien who was grinning widely.

"It's an enchanted ring," he explained. "Some rings grant power, invisibility, or invulnerability. This one will make me appear and feel human."

Nino stared down at the black band dubiously, "that is no ring, bro. That's like a bangle, or a circlet."

Adrien stuck out his tongue, and wrinkled his snout. "It's not meant for humans, it's meant for dragons." And with that he slipped the band over the middle toe on his right paw.

At first nothing appeared to happen, the ring was a little big on Adrien, and wasn't suited for feline paws anyway. But after a minute, the swirling pattern on the ring trembled, and came alive.

Where Nino had expected some flashy glow of bright white light, instead he saw bubbling black acid, it seemed to ooze up from the ring and crawl over Adrien's fur. It enveloped the dragon's body like some nightmarish horror, and ate away the dragon's size and shape.

Nino had no words, he honestly feared for his friend's life. And if he hadn't been scared into a state of paralysis he might've thrown himself on the dragon and ripped the ring off its paw.

Adrien didn't make a sound, the acidic bubbling black covering his body never made a sound. Smaller and smaller the dragon's form shrank, until he was shorter than Nino, and quickly enough, the black ooze bubbled itself out and evaporated into thin air.

All the golden fur was gone.

Well most of it.

It was reduced to an unruly gold mop on the top of a young man's head. ...And also his crotch.

Nino swallowed, and tried to keep his eyes above the belt. Bringing a whole new meaning to the term, cash and prizes.

Skin, pale, perfect, creamy skin, like the fresh cow's milk delivered to his doorstep every morning. Swooping aristocratic nose, lean but lithe body, and thighs... thighs for days.

Look at his face you heathen! Nino dragged his eyes back up to meet Adrien's cheerful and hopeful expression. Beautiful wheatgrass green irides blinked back at him under full blonde-tipped lashes.

"How do I look Nino? Am I human enough now?" And when he opened his mouth and spoke, there were fangs.

Nino swallowed... painfully. "No-not quite."

Adrien frowned at that. His neat blonde brows stitching together in frustration. He turned and marched across the gold, giving Nino an eyeful of his exposed backside.

Oh god, even his ass is perfect. He could feel his skin growing hot under all his clothing and armor, and hoped to god his dark skin color concealed the blush that was surely erupting all over his cheeks.

Adrien bent and collected a polished silver mirror from the hoard and stared into it.

"Well, I don't see what the matter is, Nino. I look human to me." He came marching back to the dragon-slayer, eyes glued to the mirror in his hands.

"Humans, don't have uh... sharp teeth," Nino fumbled, trying to look anywhere besides the very naked male in front of him, and failing.

Adrien pulled back his lip with a finger, and ran a long tongue over his canines. "It's not so bad."

"You also have pointed ears, slitted pupils, and claws, Dude. You have claws."

The former dragon inspected his hands, holding them up to admire the little pointed claws on the tip of each finger. "All the better to tickle you with." He grinned impishly.

"No bro!" Nino yelled. "Humans don't look like that!"

All at once Adrien's expression fell, and he crumpled in on himself like a wounded animal. Where once there had been pride and confidence, there was suddenly modesty and shame. His arms crossed over his naked torso, clutching his shoulders.

"Am I hideous?"

Hell no! and Nino realized a dragon would have no understanding of human beauty standards. Looking different to Adrien would translate as looking ugly.

"You-you're handsome, just different," Nino tried to explain.

"Am I too different?"

"Nope!" He squeaked. "You'll be fine. We can make this work."

"Really?" Adrien looked up at him again with hopeful eyes, and Nino found himself nervously adjusting his spectacles.

"Yeah, can we just... maybe get you some clothes, Dude? A shirt, some pants, shoes, maybe some gloves. You'll be looking fine—human in no time."

"Oh I got clothes covered," He winked playfully and Nino. "I have chests full of human clothes. It's one of my favorite things to hoard."

Regretfully Nino watched Adrien march off across the gold, once again giving the dragon-slayer a full view.

Oh god, I'm gay now... He tried to remind himself that Adrien was actually a dragon, a big furry, beast-like dragon, with claws and teeth, and a luxurious tail. Nino swallowed and his throat felt tight and dry. And... I'm also a furry. Or was he a scalie? How did one classify in this situation? Adrien may have been a dragon but he definitely didn't have any scales.

"Hey Nino!" Adrien called across the room, from the other side of the hoard pile. "What dress should I wear? I have this pretty red one with lace and corset. But I also have this lovely green one. It's got trailing sleeves and ruffles!"

It took longer than Nino would have liked to make the gears in his head switch from introspection to what ever the hell Adrien was going on about.

"I'm rather partial to ruffles," he added.

Finally Nino's brain registered what Adrien was attempting to wear. Ears burning hotly, imagination running wild with mental images, Nino bit the inside of his cheek and started over the mound of gold. Hoping beyond hope that Adrien didn't take notice of the problem in his trousers.

"Do you have anything besides expensive dresses?"

Tomorrow @ao3bronte will be treating you to the prompt Post-Akuma Comfort. 

[howdoyouspellepiphany]

The Prophecy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park jimin (DemonAU)

Words: 5653 words

Summary: Long ago, the Divines and Fallens received a prophecy that promises their demise in the hands of a mortal that says:

Beautiful as the creature may be, fire doesn’t burn, ice doesn’t freeze, water doesn’t drown and lightning doesn’t destroy.

Now, the demon prince (Min Yoongi) meets a pink-haired waiter (Park Jimin) who looks like heaven and smells like sin. As their relationship blossom, the Divines and Fallens are beginning to wonder about the prophecy.

Warnings: Crude language, ignorant author

Note: I kind of know how Tumblr works now. Yay

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Min Yoongi is known to be a heavy sleeper who once slept for 2 days straight without an ounce of remorse. He remembers the good times when he wakes to burnt candles and the smell of spider lilies. It took him a while to realise that his room has been transformed into a shrine to respect his ‘departed’ soul. His father had his mother come to Infernum to see him for ‘the last time’. Yoo Jung was seen wailing when she hears about her son from her husband. That year, autumn came faster than any other years as Demeter tried to calm her daughter down. But the thought of losing her son hurts.

 When he wakes, he wakes to his mother hugging him and was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug from his little brother and Namjoon. He got a beating from Jin and Hoseok refused to talk to him for days. Yoongi did receive an earful from his parents and was – what happened afterwards? His memory doesn’t serve him any justice as the memory appears to be fragmented and lost. But it is expected since he did lose a big chunk of his childhood; only retaining a few important ones.

When Yoongi was forced to act as regent, even the slightest noise wakes him up. Nothing gives him peace anymore and whenever Namjoon or any other council members try to start a conversation with him, it’s never about music or the sky. It’s always about work and more work. And eventually, sleep doesn’t seem as important like it once used to. Not when all the creatures living on Earth that are registered under Vescor is under his protection and not when he has a kingdom to run. Sure, if he wants to, he can use aggression and violence to get things done but that’s not what Hades had taught him. The king of Infernum had taught him to be fair and that’s exactly what he will become; fair.

In the dead of the night, Namjoon stumbles in the room through a small door connecting the hall and their shared chamber in his demon form. The said man desperately tries to be as quiet as he could despite knocking everything over. His advisor’s efforts were fruitless but it’s the thought that counts even though it’s rather painful how hard Namjoon is trying. All Yoongi is hoping now is that his pink-haired advisor doesnt leave a trail of blood on the way to their shared room. 

 Nevertheless, Namjoon in his demon form is relatively scary. He doubles his normal height and has grown claws for nails. Demon Namjoon has heterochromia – red on his left and light blue on his right with big horns on his head and two snakes as a tail. His father was the previous Asmodeus before he steps down with Ken as his successor while his mother was a Wendigo; the most powerful kind to have ever existed. Namjoon is the son of the sun and the moon and he is already very resourceful even before he took the position as Yoongi’s advisor. His once brute Namjoon now whispers curses every time he stubs his toe near a furniture and when he trips over his own leg in fear of waking Yoongi up.

Little did he know, the prince is already up the moment he steps in the front door.

When Namjoon stops near his bed, simultaneously dropping a few Ryan dolls on the floor, the demon pants as he tries to regain his human form. Yoongi quietly listens to Namjoon’s pained grunts and laboured breathing as the latter’s bones snap and crack to signal the start of the bone remodelling and the retraction of his demonic features.

It hurt.

It always hurt. How can it not? Their bones are remodelled while their extra organs/limbs are forced to retract back into the ‘slumber’ body. As for Namjoon’s case, his heterochromatic eyes and horns need to be kept too. ‘Jin-hyung would know what to do to lessen his pain,’ Yoongi thought. ‘Jin-hyung will always know what to do. They are bonded, after all.’

After a few excruciating minutes of hearing Namjoon’s grunts and pants, his advisor slumps over the bed while his two snakes slither across the bed, hissing noisily. The prince grumbles as he gets out of bed. It is futile to try and go back to sleep when his mind is at its loudest. When Yoongi approaches the two snakes, they had lowered their head and with a silent command from Yoongi, they retract into Namjoon’s body. Poor boy must have lost all his energy. Although it almost never happened to Namjoon, gathering the information must have been more tiring and energy-draining than Yoongi had originally thought. 

The mint-haired prince grabs a Ryan-themed blanket and puts it over his advisor’s body as he glances over to Jeongguk’s empty bed. It has been untouched for days and his bed still has the same, white and unwrinkled sheets. He had to resist the urge to lay on it or touch it just to spite his little brother but decided against it. Rather than fight Guk, he’d rather spend it on finding the little bastard who is trying to steal his kingdom from him.

Min Yoongi walks out of the room and makes his way towards the balcony, not forgetting to grab a box of cigarettes on the coffee table. He glances at the brown piano and decided to just sit outside. His slim fingers grab one stick and puts it between his lips. He lights it up with his forefinger as he stares at the bright lights decorating the tall buildings before him. He sucks in all the nicotine as much as he can before exhaling a puff of grey smoke. Seoul, even his sight is restricted behind the grey smoke, still resembles a lighted up Christmas tree. It is impossible for him to be at a place in the city where light doesn’t hit for it has always been so bright and festive in the heart of Seoul.

Seoul, in his eyes is bright.

But bright lights cast the biggest shadow. People can only see the superficial parts and fail to see the deep parts.

He finishes the cigarette with 2 more takes and he had extracted his wings. His grand, magnificent, black wings have made its appearance (smaller due to space constraint but the beauty of his wings can never be compromised.) and tore his pale skin and the black shirt he wore to bed in the process. Specks of blood splatters everywhere within the proximity, decorating his mother’s mini garden with tiny droplets of red. He stands on the railing as he takes in a deep breath of the early morning air.

He jumped off and with his fully extended wings, he had soared off to the dark skies where the stars decorate across the sky and the moon is hung high up in the sky. It is times like these that he enjoys most. The serendipity he feels and the ephemeral feeling of being free. Free while he is in the sky for when he steps back down, the shackles are back on his limbs, tying him down to Vescor and Infernum while his responsibilities hit him like violent waves.

If his father were here, would he have let the massacre happen? What could he have done to prevent it? The thoughts cloud his mind and once again, his eyes change colours and black takes over.

When he looks down from above, he has a very mean look on his face. One that Hades wears all the time and it’s the look of disgust and disdain. Yoongi puts all his wrath in one flock of his wings and he is almost sure that the wind will eventually turn into a tornado or cause a tsunami somewhere.

Seoul, in his eyes is black.

Seoul resembles both Paradisus and Infernum for the most part.

They are both dark and light

They are grey.

He is grey – devoid of colour, and is just a shade between the bleaching white and swallowing black.

             Before Yoongi flew back, he had stayed to watch the sunrise. Memories of Hoseok and Mejiwoo, the angel’s elder sister being created flashes through his mind. No sunrise can ever be compared to that morning Hoseok and Mejiwoo is born.

Beautiful.

They both of them are beautiful and golden.

They’re different from the grey lead Yoongi is known for.

When the prince flew back, the balcony is wiped clean of his blood and the door is left open to allow air to come in. He retracts his wings the moment he stumbles into the room as the smell of food floods his senses. He, just like any other demons don’t need food to nourish them but it doesn’t mean that they don’t enjoy it.

Yoongi pulls the torn shirt over his body as he walks confidently towards the kitchen where an expected Jin-hyung is cooking with a pastel yellow with little blue clouds apron as the male hums to a melody Yoongi easily recognizes. It was a song he used to play on the piano to show off to his friends. After… A tragedy? Yoongi doesn’t know. As far as he knew, he hasn’t played it in a long time probably due to his duties as regent but it feels like there is something else underlying it. Something must have happened that made him stop playing the piano since he couldn’t bring himself to even touch the brown, old piano his mother still keeps around just in case he changes his mind.

He walks straight to the kitchen where a cup of freshly roasted coffee is set on the table next to a bowl of rice cooked with black and red beans while Jin transfers the fried chicken to a more presentable plate after draining the excessive oil. Yoongi scans the table as he hums in approval. Jin had made a traditional Korean breakfast with the side dishes ready and he has already begun salivating. There are some tofu cooked in soy sauce and egg omelette.

“You’re making a lot. Are you expecting guests?” Jin scoffs at the playful jest as the prince sips on his coffee. It is black, sugarless and hot – just the way he likes it.

“They’re not for you.” Jin places the fried chicken on the table as he cleans his hands with some soap and dries them on his apron. Yoongi smiles a little when the table is clearly set for two since Namjoon and probably Jeongguk (whom Yoongi assumes is back due to the amount of fried chicken Jin had made) wakes up fairly late.

Jin grabs his chopsticks after Yoongi had shove a fried chicken into his mouth. Even if Jin speaks freely to Yoongi, it has never been forgotten that Yoongi is still the prince of Infernum and the son of Aphrodite respects his younger friend a lot for it. And he tends it to show it in subtle actions. “Yoongi-ah, Ken had told me that Suran-noona called yesterday, asking for you.” Yoongi grunts and shoves another mouthful of rice and chicken into his mouth. “It’s about Vescor.” Yoongi looks up from his food before resuming eating. Jin pauses for a while, as if getting a telepathic message from the prince.

‘Talk about it after breakfast.’

“Anyway, I think it’s high time you get a phone.” Jin said, mimicking Yoongi’s eating style.

“Then get me one.”

“I will. But you need to come get it at Aphrodite before nightfall.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yoongi mumbles as he asks for seconds.

“No.” Yoongi stresses, glaring at Hoseok from behind the transparent shower curtains. After breakfast, Jin left without telling him what Suran wants and Yoongi just let it be. They will be meeting soon, anyway. It shouldn’t matter if Jin had forgotten or not.

Hoseok came a few minutes after with a joyful smile and shining eyes. Apparently, the angel told Yoongi that he’ll be closing his dance studio, Gabriel for some time to help out at Yoo Jung’s floristry, ‘Bunga’.

“Hyung,” The angel whines as the demon prince growls in the shower. The angel leans against the blue and white tiles of the bathroom as supports a pout. The demon prince scowls in response as he takes a sum of shampoo and wash his mint-green hair thoroughly. He makes sure to wash his hair properly and condition it before going out. Frizzy, dried up hair is the last thing he needs during his stay on Earth. “I swear I have a good excuse.”

“What could even be a good excuse, Seokkie? You’re closing Jibril-“

“Gabriel.” Hoseok frowns.

“Same difference. They’re both your mentor’s name.”

“True, but my dance studio is ‘Gabriel’. So, say it correctly.” Yoongi sticks his head under the shower and washes his shampoo-ed hair.

“As I was saying, you closing down-”

“On a short hiatus.” Hoseok corrected once again and in turn, the irritated demon takes in a deep, sharp breath.

“Can you stop interrupting me for once, Seokkie? For fuck’s sake.” Yoongi glares at the angel who still supports the joyful smile and shining eyes. Hoseok knows that Yoongi means nothing behind his insults and welcome them with open arms.

“I need to make it clear so that you don’t get the wrong idea. I need a short break from dance, hyung.” Hoseok said, pushing himself off the humid wall as Yoongi applies conditioner to his hair. The angel takes the articles of his clothes off and joins the demon prince in the shower. “Hyung,” Hoseok said in a soft voice – the voice he uses to persuade Yoongi. “Please believe in me when I tell you that. I have been thinking about it for a while. I swear I’m not lying.” Hoseok whispers against the expanse of his skin as the latter trail kisses all over the demon prince’s back. Yoongi sighs when Hoseok wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist.

“Dancing is your dream, Seokkie.” Yoongi whispers, staring at the steam radiating from the hot shower as he reaches over to press some body wash on his palm when Hoseok beats him to it.

“Yes, but Yoongi-hyung, helping you is a second nature to me.” Hoseok never ceases his kisses even when he lathers Yoongi’s pale, cold skin with firewood and mist scented soap. Yoongi stays quiet afterwards. What the angel said hold truths to it and the golden colour hovering Hoseok’s honey skin proves it. Hoseok is the first man and species different from Yoongi’s own that he had slept with and Yoongi still remembers the state of euphoria he felt during the night with Hoseok. He remembers the younger’s gentle touches and hushed wishes – all which he succumbs to.

But it was just one night and it made Hoseok unable to fly despite having wings of his own. His halo dimmed significantly after that night and the two of them refrained from any sexual intercourse mainly on Yoongi’s side in order to preserve Hoseok’s status as an angel. He would be damned if he ever let the younger angel fall.

He already let one get so sick, she may never be able to recover and continue her remaining life as an angel.

“Hyung,” Hoseok whispers from behind him, fingers now massaging Yoongi’s tensed back. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Yoongi lies behind his teeth as he continues his shower. “I’ll let you do whatever you want.” The prince says after a while of silence.

“You’ll let me work at ‘Bunga’?”

“If that’s what you really want to do.” Hoseok gives him the biggest smile he has ever seen as he hops out of the shower and grabs his clothes on the floor.

“Yes!” The angel cheers as he simply takes Yoongi’s towel and runs out the bathroom without closing the door.

“At least close the fucking door.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Oh by the way,” Hoseok sticks his head at the ajar door. “As proof that I will never regret working at ‘Bunga’ is that I overheard Jackson Wang’s trainees from Tantara Records that the ‘New Ruler of Infernum’ is going to overthrow you.” When Yoongi’s eyes darken as he stops the water flow, Hoseok raises his hands in defence. “It’s their words, not mine.”

“Overthrow me?” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Me? What a joke.” With all the heat radiating from Yoongi’s body, the water droplets quickly turn to steam and evaporated into the thin air. “Little bastard couldn’t even enter the castle without my permission.” The castle is located in the heart of Infernum in the main, capital city, Gehenna. It is designed to pulverize anyone who doesn’t carry Hades’s blood in their veins if they ever try to leave or enter without their consent.

And his guards are trained to be loyal to the crown – all so ready to please and kill for the crown. His top general is Lucifer and followed by other 4 demons named Beelzebub, Belphegor Leviathan and Mammon. They are all trained by Hades to specifically protect the royal family and the peace of Infernum. They will never betray him.

Yoongi tells himself just that every time he finds himself alone but it gets harder to convince himself. What the prince got in return isn’t relief but strange anxiety. None of his guards back home in Infernum had contacted him and they are supposed to report to Namjoon or him every subsequent day. But no updates were given. The Styx Goddess hasn’t updated anything either but it must because that she was crowned to be regent after his absence.

He just hopes that the Goddess of Styx would try to make lessen the complications of any given matters that were given in his absence.

To come back and see the whole Infernum on fire (due to her lover, Acheron) is the last thing he wants.

By the time he got dressed, Jeongguk woke up with a pout, asking where he’s going. He’s very confident that his little brother is only acting upon reflex and that he is not even half awake yet as the younger demon struggles to keep his eyes open only to fall back to bed. Yoongi cracks a small smile and pulls the blanket over Jeongguk’s torso before making his way to the balcony.

“Are you leaving?” Hoseok says with mouth-full of rice and fried chicken as he stumbles from the kitchen.

“Only for a little while, yes. Things are strange back in Infernum. They aren’t reporting anything to me.”

“You mean, Lucifer.” Hoseok swallows as he says the fallen angel’s name in distaste. Hoseok wasn’t born yet when the whole Adam-Eve-forbidden apple fiasco and neither have Yoongi. While the angel has his own views on the fallen angel, Yoongi does too. Hoseok doesn’t understand why Lucifer couldn’t have just listened to orders even if he doesn’t want to do it. Following orders are simple. You don’t have to feel it. You just do it. It baffles the angel greatly. It’s better to just go along with things without questioning it rather than having their wings ripped off of their backs. Yoongi, on the other hand, understands where the jealousy is coming from for he would have been jealous too if his parents have another child and decided to love the child more than him. It’s the same with Lucifer. His maker practically gave him a big ‘fuck you’ and chose the human who is made out of clay. Since when did dirty-ass clay become better than fire?

“Seokkie,” Yoongi pauses as he sticks his tongue against his cheek in mild exasperation. “Not today.”

Hoseok can only sigh in response. Yoongi has never been one to actually share his business about his generals with him. Even if they are close, Yoongi can never fully trust the angel for Hoseok’s loyalty belongs to Zeus and the likes. Yoongi isnt one to hold a conversation regarding Infernum affairs with anyone other than Namjoon and Jeongguk. It isn’t anything deep it’s just how it’s always been. “Alright, sorry.” Hoseok mumbles as he swallows the food he has been munching. “I’ll be in ‘Bunga’ if you need me.”

Yoongi watches the angel retreat to the kitchen with a bowl in his hand and sighs. Hoseok is upset and truthfully, Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now, not today.

He stands on the railings, jump off the building and allows his wings to be extracted from his skin with a sickening crack. Yoongi no longer grimaces at the sound or the pain it seems to bring whenever he summoned them when he was younger. Now, he only feels a numbing and tingly sensation. He flies up into the sky and towards a crevice in a dark area where sunlight doesn’t hit Seoul. He soars and glides with the wind and once he found a dark crevice, he speaks in an ancient language – one that Charon, the ferryman understands so that he could open the entrance for the prince.

When Yoongi returns to his palace in central Gehenna, the capital city of Infernum, Styx and her lover, Acheron is found waiting for him in the gardens on the palace. Styx had filled him in the information he wanted during his absence and she admitted that she hasn’t been able to update him on anything due to Lucifer’s disappearance.

“It’s bad, Your Highness. The Sluaghs are all over the place now that Lucifer isn’t around to keep an eye on them.” Styx says, rushing towards Yoongi as soon as the man steps in the premises of the palace. Styx is a woman who is made of water with long, flowy hair. She is the guardian and the Goddess of Styx River, the main of the 5 rivers surrounding Infernum. Her lover, Acheron, is the guardian of the fiery river in Infernum, the Acheron River. The man doesn’t speak much and when he does, he only tends to only speak to his lover. The man of big build next to Styx has red hair and red eyes. “Lethe, Coccytus and Phlegethon have been trying to curb the Sluaghs along with Leviathan. But for some reason, my prince,” Styx says, warily looking around. “The Sluaghs said something about the ‘New Ruler of Infernum’.”

‘Fuck’ Yoongi closes his eyes in annoyance. ‘Lucifer is gone? Where the fuck did her go?’ His patience is really wearing thin. One: Is the cause of his anxiety was proven to be right? Two: If he ever hears another one calling the bastard the ‘New Ruler of Infernum’, his hands will really be their new choker. “What did they say, Styx-noona?” Yoongi’s voice wavers as he tries to remain calm. It is much too dangerous for him to lose control in the public eye.

“I think matters such as these are best discussed in the protection of the castle walls.” Styx said, touching her lover’s hand, burning herself in the process. Acheron quickly steps away but Styx doesn’t let his hand go. Yoongi has never understood the love Styx and Acheron shares. They can’t even touch each other without hurting each other and they couldn’t continue their day without touching each other. Yoongi watches the steam arising from where their hands meet and couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Acheron once burnt Styx alive at the beginning of time for he was a raging fire that couldn’t be controlled. The man weeped for years until Hades decided to bring Styx back in the form of water to him. Acheron sees it as a chance that was given to him to live happily with his love and pledged loyalty to the crown for as long as he shall live if it meant he could live with Styx. Bu that’s not all that he did. The man actually changed. From the rambunctious, unforgiving and wild fire turned tame just for a fragile lover.

Yoongi didn’t understand why Styx chose to stay then and he doesn’t understand why she chose to stay now.

The three of them walk to the throne room in no haste when the pair of lovers are forced to part when Lethe came, panting, asking Acheron to join in the fight upon Leviathan’s orders before greeting the prince. When Acheron left, Styx opens the door to the throne room and Yoongi strides up to his throne. It has only been 2 days in the human world and he’s already missing his throne and the black, pointy crown that sits comfortably on his mint hair. “My prince, a few minutes after Namjoon left for Earth, a peculiar man came to my river.” This immediately catches Yoongi’s attention. Only gods and goddesses who are ready to make a pledge will descend to Infernum to see the Styx Goddess where a mark of their word will be tattooed on their skin.

Namjoon and Jin had made their vow in front of Styx and their vow of ‘Semper Fidelis’ are tattooed around their neck like a chain – a leash.

“He was wearing a black cloak, one that covers his hair but a few strands of green hair is visible. His pale is fair, so fair it resembles yours, Your Highness. He’s different. The hate that he radiates isn’t like anything I have ever tasted before. The hate – it radiates throughout his body, sire.”

Yoongi watches the water-woman as she tries to describe how it tasted like. Styx River feeds on hatred and loathing. ‘The stronger the feeling, the better the taste’ Yoongi recalls Styx once told him before. And for her to describe it as an exquisite taste doesn’t make him happy at all.

“And when he makes the oath with me, he left.”

“What vow did he make?” Yoongi asks even though he knows Styx will never tell him.

“Your majesty, you know I am very tight-lipped about oaths and vows.”

“Even if it means doing me a great favour?” Yoongi asks and Styx stares at him.

“Are you implying that the green-haired boy is the rumoured man?”

“I don’t know, noona. Nobody does.” Yoongi is tired. He just wants to find this boy and burn him alive. He just wants a cup of coffee and some peaceful time in his kingdom and on Earth. But that is a luxury he doesn’t seem to be able to afford. Lucifer is missing, the Sluaghs are doing whatever the fuck they please, the mysterious kelp on Earth, the slaughter of the People of Poseidon and now a boy with ominous energy. “Namjoon, Wang and his pups are all over the place trying to gather intel for me.” Yoongi grumbles as he stands from his throne.

“Anyway, while Luci is gone, have Mammon take charge. I want those Sluaghs in the dungeons.” Having Mammon, the demon known for avarice in charge is never a good idea in Yoongi’s point of view for Mammon is greedy and sadistic. He takes and takes but never gives and most importantly, he goes against Yoongi’s principles of being fair. But Mammon will have to do for now just until Lucifer gets back. He couldn’t possibly have Leviathan for she has too much on her plate right now and Belphegor is known for his laziness and lastly, Beelzebub is known for his gluttonous life. Yoongi would be damned if Beelzebub resorts to eating those Sluaghs who refuses to listen to him.

“Will do, sire.” Styx bows at Yoongi as he walks down the stairs.

“I need you to be extremely tight-lipped regarding this matter. I will leave Infernum in your hands for the time being and I expect it to be in good conditions. I need you to update me whenever you can. You no longer need Lucifer to transmit any message to me.” Styx nods in understanding. “One more thing, noona…” Yoongi trails off as he takes off the black, pointing crown from his mint hair as he runs his hair through it. “How’s… Y’know, Hoseok’s sister?” Yoongi asks despite knowing what Styx will reply judging from her eyes.

The guardian of Styx River has averted her eyes from meeting her prince’s bluish-grey ones. “She’s still the same.” The prince purses his lips. “I will still send the purple hyacinths to her despite you being on Earth.” Yoongi gives her a small smile and nods slowly. The prince hopes that if the other half of the golden sibling will accept the flowers and listen them if she refuses to listen to him.

“I have another favour to ask from you, noona.” Styx smiles and tilts her head to the left. “Can you have Charon change some Danakes to Korean Won?”

“May I inquire for what purpose?” The beautiful woman asks as she tucks one finger under her chin. She finds the favour rather peculiar because while her prince is known for many things, Min Yoongi isnt a lavish person.

“I need to buy some rubies for Jin-hyung.”

‘Ah, so that’s what it is.’ The water-woman thought as she pats Yoongi on the shoulder in response. “Did you put my sweet Jin on a dry spell again?”

“No, I didn’t.” Yoongi gives his noona a pointed look as the said man rubs the back of his neck and in response, the guardian guffaws.

“Whatever you say, Yoongi-ah. I’ll have them delivered to you and do ask Suran to accompany you when you buy them so you don’t get some ugly-ass ones.”

“Rude.” The prince mumbles as the prince makes his way out of the castle and Styx trailing close behind him. She had struggled to match his pace but the prince is way too fast for her liking. When the prince stops in his garden and extricate his wings to their full expanse, Styx abruptly stops. She doesn’t want to be in those wings’ proximity when they’re out. One flap and she might evaporate into thin air. “Take care, noona. Both yourself and my kingdom.” Yoongi said and the water-woman bows with her right hand over her left chest.

“Your wish is my command, my prince.” The prince finds himself smiling and with one powerful stroke, he ascends up to the sky. He opens a portal with one destination in mind – Jin’s pride, Aphrodite.

The prince had a ‘marvellous’ time at Aphrodite as the Divine hands him his phone and a few quick tips on how to use it properly. With a little ‘I don’t need that’ from Yoongi and a ‘You’ll never know when you do.’ As a response, Yoongi walks out with a jailbreak-ed phone and a game that allows you to fight other players with a sausage. And then with a smile, he makes his towards his happy place – The Promise Café.

“Here you go.” Jimin smiles as he places a tall glass of vanilla milkshake in front of Yoongi. The prince is still on his little quest on finding the right flavour that resembles the chubby-cheeked waiter and that explains the vanilla milkshake. When he reaches out to take the glass, he realises that the pink-haired boy had added something extra at the side and before Yoongi could even ask about it, Jimin had already gone to greet a new customer. Yoongi couldn’t help but muster a little smile. ‘How nice.’

While Yoongi is lounging on his chair, (from his point of view), he saw a man – more specifically, V – who was watching the café in a distance. The Muse is wearing a brown hoodie and a washed-out blue jeans that are ripped at certain places. He no longer has that confident air around him or a frivolous outfit on. It feels like Yoongi is watching another man and the one before his eyes under the over-sized brown hoodie isnt V. The man had the hood on to cover his long, wavy brown hair as V’s chest pants heavily. Yoongi watches carely and a dark blue (one that’s much darker than his eyes) aura hovering above the Muse’s much too pale skin. If memory served him right, V has a rich, honey skin yesterday so what’s with the pale complexion today? V’s lips are trembling and chapped. When the Muse raises his arm to wipe his mouth, Yoongi notices a streak of red on the sleeve of his hoodie. After a while, V’s mouth moves and left. To Yoongi’s dismay, he couldn’t figure out the latter had said as the wind carries the Muse’s words away.

The prince’s eyes make their way to Jimin’s face now where the pink-haired boy is seen taking the orders of a regular. It was humiliatingly easy for Yoongi to remember the faces of Promise café’s regulars and new comers. When Yoongi takes the first sip of the vanilla milkshake, he instantly regretted his choices. It was so plain and milky and it tastes like eggs. Why the hell did he even think it was remotely close to Jimin? When the door chimes, he pays no heed to it as he forces the drink down his oesophagus and eats the extra thing Jimin gave him. The pastries taste good.

The customer at the door takes a seat across his table and Yoongi could feel it. Whatever or whoever the man is, they’re not human. Both of the hooded men have their hoods on but the one who is sitting in front of him made Yoongi raise his chin and furrow his eyebrows. The man has a mask on and the only thing Yoongi can see is the playful, goading pale blue eyes. If the man, much shorter than him with blue eyes doesn’t avert his gaze, Yoongi might have to dig those eyes out to make him learn his lesson but at the end of Yoongi’s thinning patience, the shorter man did.

Yoongi was about to take another bite when Suran gave him a chain of messages that came in like a flood. The prince growls in annoyance as he swipes as he gives the messages a glance before paying for what he ordered. He thanked Jimin and while the pink-haired boy is rushing to give him his balance, Yoongi unconsciously reaches out and ruffles his hair.

“Keep the change.” Yoongi said and Jimin seems startled a little before a furious blush makes its way across his cheeks. He mumbles a thanks and Yoongi watches how his cheeks move when the waiter’s plump lips move. ‘I can’t wait to eat you up.’ Yoongi thought, smiling. “No problem.” When Jimin’s mouth-watering smell reaches his nostrils and are beginning to cloud the prince’s vision, Yoongi suddenly (and awfully) is hyper-aware of his actions as he drops his hand and left.

His hand smells of Jimin now. And while the pink-haired boy has a bashful pink aura hovering his skin, the necklace around Jimin’s neck changes to a similar colour as well.

And for the nth time that week, Yoongi has a hard time cancelling out Jimin’s scent.

Chapter 5

[crewhonk]

Glovebox

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, bad poetry (w the first poem, not the second)

Pairings: Billy X Reader

Words: 4,000

AN: There’s a little bit of reference to the brain storming convo the Gorilla Gang had on Friday, and theres a specific reference to the thing that makes Annie (@dacre-thotgomery) want to die, so theres that! Enjoy! xx (shoutout to Rupi Kaur for Y/N’s poem)

Tag List: @veronica-lodge-photography  

Billy Hargrove had moved into Hawkins in the beginning of October. He rolled in with cold fall air, and the smell of Camel cigarettes, and with the motivation to dominate everyone in Hawkins high school. He started with Steve Harrington, belittling him in the hallways and on the basketball court, later beating him near death in later November and facing three months of community service in the soup kitchen. He also dominated most of the girl in Hawkins, minus a few and the few consisted of one girl in junior year who looked a little too much like his little sister, Max, Nancy Wheeler- as she was dating Jonathan Byers, the rest of the girls in happy relationships and then there was you. You, who was the Pom team captain, decathlon leader, and tutor of physics. You had healthy hair, you had a gorgeous smile, you had a sparkle in your eye and you volunteered on Saturdays at the soup kitchen. You weren’t exactly a stranger to him, you volunteered on the same days and he gave you rides to and from the kitchen. So why did Billy seem to almost avoid asking you to do anything? Literally, if he even wanted to hold hands you’d be down.

You pushed your tray away from you and smashed your face into the lunch table. The cool surface of the lunch table froze your face and you kicked your best friend, Jo when she laughed loudly at you. You straightened up after a few minutes and wiped away the forehead-shaped foundation mark from the table with your sweater sleeve.

“I mean, why doesn’t he even look at me outside of the Kitchen. I don’t understand? I’m hot, I’m talented, I’m fun, I’m down to make out and let him grab my butt I don’t understand.” You whined quietly. You didn’t want anyone outside of this table section to hear about your low-key obsession with the King.

“Honestly, I don’t know why he hasn’t even spoken to you because he’s literally undressing you with his eyes right now.” She laughed, sucking on the straw to her orange juice box. You turned around on the bench and caught Billy’s eye before his head whipped his gaze away from you.

“Oh, whatever, Joanne. You slept with him what? Two weeks ago? He’s obviously hung up on you.” You wrinkled your nose at her and held your apple in your hand like a Shakespeare skull. “Where for art thou is Joanne’s self-respect?”

“In my vagina-crevice.” She smiled back, taking your apple from your hand and biting a chunk out of it and slamming it back on your tray, making sure to bruise it.

“I hate you.” You sighed, shoving a handful of Goldfish in your mouth. Joanne laughed at you and swung her legs over the bench, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and pointing behind you.

“Incoming, dude.”

You were forced to turn around and came face to face with Billy Hargrove’s belt buckle. “Eye’s up here, Y/L/N.”

You felt blood rush to your neck, ears, and chest quickly and the room became very hot very quickly. You looked at him through your lashes, and he parted his lips at the angle he had of you.

“What do you want, Hargrove?”

“I want you to make coffee for us tomorrow.” You looked up at him, craning your neck to look fully up at him. His hand came up to hold your chin in-between his thumb and the crook of his pointer finger. You grabbed his wrist and shoved it away from you. “You can pick me up early and we can get coffee on the way— I’ll buy.”

“Well, I can’t let you do that the girl is never supposed to pay for the man.”

“First of all, that’s sexist. Second of all, you need to save for rent if you ever want to get out of that god-forbidden house. Third of all, I want to pay.” You said, standing up and pushing him away from you. He only smiled down at you and he picked your books up from the ground, leading you to your next class and walking in, placing the books down on your desk and ruffling your hair.

“See you tomorrow, then?” He asked, walking backward and biting his bottom lip while he smiled at you.

“I expect you to be half an hour early.” You confirmed. You sat down and twirled your pencil between your fingers and smiling to yourself. Carol, however, hadn’t looked away from you since the moment you two walked into the room. She popped a large bubble and chewed on the gum loudly.

“Finally, he got the balls to ask you out?” She asked, leaning over and kicking your calf muscle. You looked at her, brows furrowed and blinked slowly.

“Pardon?”

“He finally asked you out? He’s been planning to ask you forever, he just loses his mind whenever he sees you. He’s so freaked out because he doesn’t want to just fuck you.” She said, twirling the string of gum around her finger. You felt as if your heart and stomach dropped to your feet, leaving cold caverns in their place.

“He— um, he didn’t? We have uh, we have to volunteer tomorrow at the soup kitchen downtown. We didn’t start anything.” You blanched, feeling as if your eyes were going to fall out of your head. Carol’s eyes widened in fear and regret before she turned her body fully towards the front of the class. “Carol, what the fuck are you talking about?” She didn’t reply, only gripping her pencil harder in her hand and clenching her jaw tight.

When Billy showed up at your house the next morning half an hour early, you would have liked to be more prepared. You were trying your hair into a ponytail at the nape of your neck and no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t find your left shoe. Billy honked the horn once more and with a loud groan you gave up and shoved your foot in a similar shoe, hoping to any higher power that was out there that Billy wouldn’t notice.

When you got into his car, you had to look over at him and remind him that he needed to drive the car to get anywhere. When you looked at him, however, you were struck speechless by the look on his face. His mouth looked like there had been a smile carved into it so wide it showed all of his teeth. His blue eyes were shining with laughter that had yet to burst from his chest and there were wrinkles sprouting from the outer corners of his eyes like roots from a tree. As you caught your breath, he reached over and wiped a bit of toothpaste from the corner of your mouth.

“Who knew that someone who was so well put together and who was as cute as you could also be such a hot mess.” He laughed, pulling out into the street, not looking over to gauge your reaction at his compliment. Your jaw hit your toes, and you directed your attention out of your window to hide the giddy blush that was spreading over your entire body.

The drive to Starbucks was a quiet one, but the silence that you two sat in was anything but uncomfortable. The soft sounds of whatever pop radio station Billy was playing crooned words you didn’t bother paying attention to and the windows had been rolled down, letting the fresh late-spring air flood through the car. It smelled like water, and dew, and blooming flowers and smelled more and more like fresh coffee the closer you got to the cafe. The sun was shining down on the blue paint, and it glittered in response, shining in your eyes and warming your skin.

Billy pulled the car over and asked you what you wanted, grabbing his wallet from the glove box and dashing into the store— the desperation for caffeine making him rush. You waited for five minutes before he came back empty-handed.

“They’re just grinding the beans, and warming up the pastries for us— they said it would be about ten minutes before we get everything. Apparently, they’re technically not open yet-- but only a select few can resist the charm of Billy Hargrove.” He laughed, leaning on the driver side window. “You good out here while I make sure they get our orders right?”

“Yeah, I’m good in here. Be nice to the barista’s, William.”

“Okay I told you my full name in confidence and you’re using it against me, Doll?”

“I’m not stupid enough to believe that your mother signed off on a birth certificate where your name was Billy.”

“Billy is a perfectly fine name, you know!” He retorted, his tongue slipping past his teeth and running across his bottom lip. He tapped his hand on the car twice before straightening up and sauntering into the cafe, making sure to swing his hips just enough for your eyes to drift down to them. God, you were whipped and he didn’t even know it. Sure, you had found out yesterday from Carol that he apparently felt the same way, but she was known for stirring the pot when things got too quiet. She saw the way you reacted to Billy being in the room, and she especially saw the way your eyes sparkled when he talked to you. You were a smitten kitten and Carol was just shitting around, right?

You pondered the way your life was in Carol’s hands for another five minutes before you got restless and began seeing what you could entertain yourself with for the duration of your stay in this car. You picked the dirt from under your nails, but that only took fifteen seconds tops. You checked to see if your mismatched shoes (god help you) were tied, and you re-tied them. Then, your eyes drifted to the glove box. Billy made sure to always keep his favorite and most dear things to him in there if the need to flee ever came up. You knew opening it was a breach of trust and privacy and he had told you that if anything went missing from the box, he would probably die. (“jesus, who raised you to be so dramatic?” “mom watched a lot of soaps— it’s basically bred into me.” “please don’t say it like that.”)

Your fingers brushed along the handle of it, one final chance to turn back on your decision. You pulled on the handle, and the hatch swung down so quickly you thought that would have all spilled onto the floor. (you’d have to run away then, probably move to Canada or some other far away place so he wouldn’t kill you). The contents, however, stayed tucked into the nook and you reached forward to root through the contents. There were a few developed pictures, one of Max and The Party sleeping in the basement of the Wheelers house. There was one of a younger and much chubbier Billy smiling next to a woman, his mother you assumed (they were spitting images of one another) on a pier in California. There was another one of the same woman— now bald with skin almost clinging to the bones underneath— sitting in a hospital wheelchair as Billy (now filled out, but still soft around the edges) rode on the back of the chair, smiles wide over both of their faces as the breeze from the speed of the chair racing down the hall blew his hair back. There was another picture, of him and the basketball team after they won championships this year— Billy had a thick arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders and Steve was laughing as the flash went off.

Underneath the stack of pictures, there were three large packets of Marlboro cigs laying still in their plastic, you laughed as you moved them aside, revealing a pack of hair ties, a pair of scissors and finally, a thick leather journal.

It looked like it had seen some hard days. The spine of the book was missing, having detached from the cloth underneath. The revealed spine had a handful of staples and duct tape holding it together— as if someone had offhandedly tried to fix it, not caring too much about how it looked. There was a cut on the back, slicing the leather in half and revealing the back page. You opened the book and flipped through the pages that had flowers, and leaves and grass taped to the pages. There were tiny words scrolled between the flower-frames Billy had made, complete with a title, and the date at the very top of the page. You flipped the pages slowly, not wanting to break any flower stems or lose any pictures he had taped on the back of the poems he had written. You flipped until you reached the last page he wrote on, because holy shit, there was a picture of you. It had been a cutout from the local newspaper, and it was from the Christmas Eve meal you had volunteered for, and Billy was beside you, smiling down at you as if he was the sun itself. The article was talking about the philanthropic demographic that was raising its head in Hawkins, and you had known that there would be a piece done about the Kitchen, but you had never expected to be the main article picture and you certainly didn’t expect your picture to be in Billy’s journal. On the adjacent page, there were some yellow wildflowers you had picked one day and given to Billy as he filled the car up with gas. You had tucked them into the mirror above his head and he had only commented about how they took away from his masculinity. You had told him to suck it up and enjoy them, as one's masculinity was fragile if he was put off by the sight of wildflowers.

Your fingers barely traced over the indentations his pen made, feeling the pressure of his hands, and feeling the way the pen tore through the page as if he was writing it down in a hurry. There was a poem there.

“I can see you running around your house, Your hair resembles something like a nest and you have a blush on your cheeks that makes your skin glow. And I wait. You tie your hair into a rubber band that I know you’ll complain that it's going to pull every strand of hair from your head as I drive you home. I will wait. You turn around now, one foot in your front door and you wave your hand back at me, the shadows from the front porch light casting shadows over your face that I want to memorize. I will always wait. I wait until I see your silhouette against your white curtains. I wait until the light goes out in your room. I wait until I can catch my breath, and I wait until my heart stops racing. And I’m still waiting.”

You felt as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. Your fingers had since grown cold, and you struggled to breathe for a hot second. It was as if the world around you had melted away, and the only thing in the world that existed were the flowers on the page and the words that he wrote. You noticed a movement from the corner of your eye, and your head whipped up to see Billy with a handful of coffee and muffins and bagels and yogurt.

You slammed the glovebox closed, and shoved the journal into the bag in your lap without thinking. He opened the driver's side door and you gave him a nervous smile. He was waiting. He was always waiting, and so were you and now that you had read the poem he had written about you, and you had forgotten how to even interact with another human being.

“Blonde caramel latte, and a cheese danish for the Princess. Oh, and I got a yogurt for you— it’s strawberry, but I wasn’t sure if you like strawberry yogurt, so if you don’t I will trade my vanilla.” He said, handing your the paper bags and putting the coffees in their cup holders. He didn’t even bother to hand yours to you as he had been reminded multiple times that you were afraid of burning your tongue— you only drank lukewarm coffee. It was a detail you hadn’t realized he had remembered or even noticed.

When you didn’t respond, he nudged your knee with his fist. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect.”

You had kept the journal. You knew it was bad, and you knew that Billy was probably losing his god damned mind about not having it in his glovebox. You knew he wouldn’t talk to you about it, and you knew he wouldn’t come over until the following Saturday morning because you still weren’t friends. You were volunteer buddies, and holy shit you’ve stolen Billy Hargrove’s poetry journal and there was a poem written about you in it and you were pretty sure it was literally burning a hole through your side table.

It was Sunday night when you took it out the first time. It looked innocent enough, its stapled spine pressing into your palm and the weight of it not enough to make your hand sink. The crinkle of the stale pages echoed around your room, and you almost wanted to shove it back into your drawer like it was something dirty you needed to hide. You placed it at the bottom of your bed, and you sat for some time curled up at the head of it, staring at it like it was a severed hand.

It was one in the morning when you finally reached for it, flipping through the pages to a new one— the page after the poem where he said he would wait. You taped a few scraps of lace you had found in your mother's sewing kit, and secured it with some hot glue you had found in your old craft drawer. The white lace bordered the middle of the page and you picked up your favorite (it was lucky) purple pen and began writing. You didn’t know what you were writing until it was finished, and when you tried to re-read it, the words didn’t sink in until you forced yourself to read them out loud.

“The universe took its time on you Crafted you precisely, so you could offer the world Something distinct from everyone else. So when you doubt how you were created You doubt an energy greater than us both [Do not doubt that energy It’s one smart mother fucker].”

You left school the next day early. You ignored the look your teacher gave you as you stood up in the middle of class, and you ignored the way Billy watched you leave. You ignored the way his expression shifted from boredom to interest, then from interest to worry when you didn’t look back. You pushed your shoulders back and walked out of the class and down the hall. You walked out of the school and into the parking lot and stopped in front of the iconic Blue Camaro.

You thanked whatever God was out there when you tried to open the front door and it opened without the alarm blaring. You placed the journal on the seat and you let out a frightened squeal when a polished hand smacked the top of the roof.

Carol.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Returning something that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Mmhmm.”

“To you happen to have any nice perfume?” She responded to you by digging through her bag and handing you an old bottle of something. You opened the book to your lace page and spritzed the perfume across the page.

“Okay, so do you like him back or somethin’?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Alright then.”

You left school after that, choosing to walk home and enjoy the chill in the wind that reminded you it was not quite spring, but the promise of something warm around the corner was on its way. You didn’t live too far from the high school, so you knew your walk would be short. You took your time today, however. You pondered if this was about to change the last three months of your high school life— or even how it wasn’t. You kicked a rock on your way home, even stopping to kick it between your feet as if it were a soccer ball. You were stopped when you heard a familiar rumble ignite in the distance, followed shortly by a silence, and then a sound that resembled the of a Nascar tearing down a dirt pathway. Billy.

You picked up the pace, suddenly afraid of the consequences you had brought upon yourself and just as you turned the corner to your tiny cookie-cutter cul-de-sac Billy’s car pulled over in front of you, almost knocking you out by the knees. You didn’t know what Billy’s intentions were when he stormed around the car, a pin on his jacket catching the rays of the sun and glinting in your face. He didn’t slow down when he got closer, and he forced you to take a few quick steps back for fear of him bowling you over.

You were pleasantly surprised when his hands wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He pressed his lips hungrily to yours and they danced messily with yours. He grasped at your face, head, and neck desperately trying to get you closer to him as if he wanted to drink you in. When his arm wrapped around your waist to pull your torso closer to his, you let out a surprised gasp which allowed his tongue to snake into your mouth and lick the back of your teeth, only wanting to finally get the chance to taste you. And boy, did you not disappoint. To Billy, you tasted of mint gum, and coffee and warmth— and he knew that you needed air but there was no way he ever wanted to pull away from you.

You pressed your hand against his shoulder, pushing him away just enough so you could breathe. You gasped for air when his lips popped away from your swollen ones, and you looked up to his face. His cheeks were redder than usual, his lips were swollen from the hard kiss he had given you seconds before and were glistening in the golden sun from spit. His pupils were large, making the blue of his eyes stand out more in a thinner circle. His ears were red as well, from nervousness, or attraction, or adrenaline and his hair was mussed from your hands. His shaking breathe hit your face, and he leaned in once more to press his lips gently to yours, pressing you onto the car behind you and cradling your face softly his rough hands. Your lips danced together, barely touching but enough to take both of your breaths away. You let your hands drift— from his waist to his chest, over his shoulders where you cupped his neck briefly. They then drifted to his sticky-outy ears where they traced the shell of them briefly before your arms wrapped around his shoulders in one of the softest hugs had ever felt.

Before you, his glovebox was where he kept his most important items. Where he kept his addiction, where he kept his thoughts and his heart.

You were his new glovebox.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Show Stealer” (Rated PG13)

Kurt is trying to show his family and friends his Cornell admissions video, but someone keeps snagging his spotlight. (1734 words)

Notes: So this comes some time after Blaine moves in with Sebastian and before Kurt gets into Cornell. It's inspired by all of the videos we watch of people skating on YouTube, that they film themselves at their rinks, and the unfortunate people stuck in the background. I know that I'm in the background of a few videos, and I often wonder - how was my hair? Did I look fat? Was I doing something stupid? XD Blaine friendly.

Part 29 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3

“Kurt? Are you okay in there, honey?” Elizabeth calls, anxiously waiting on the sofa beside her husband, with Sebastian and Blaine occupying the arm chairs, all eager for Kurt to give them the ‘big presentation’ he’s gathered them together for.

“Yeah, babe! We’ve been sittin’ here for fifteen minutes! I’ve already finished my bowl of popcorn!”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming!” Kurt emerges from the kitchen, sashaying into the living room with a bottle of sparkling cider and four plastic flutes in hand. “Thank you for your patience,” he says, doling out the glasses. “And without further ado ...”

Burt takes the bottle from Kurt to help open and pour. “Without further ado what exactly?”

His hands free, Kurt digs into his back pocket and pulls out a flash drive. “I present to you - my Cornell admissions video!”

“Oh! This is so exciting!” Elizabeth squeals, barely holding still enough for Burt to fill her glass. “My baby’s applying to college!”

“It’s just a technicality,” Sebastian assures her. “There’s no way Cornell isn’t going to accept the most talented figure skater in America, especially with the GPA he’s packing.”

“But how did you get it done so quickly?” Blaine asks as Kurt plugs the drive into the Blu-ray player. “Didn’t you just start making it yesterday morning?”

“It’s not complete. This is the main body of my video – me showing off my skills. I still have to film an introduction. Plus, I want to include clips of me coaching, a tour of the trophy case at the rink, that sort of thing …”

“I told you, you should hire a professional videographer.” Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt’s hip and pulls his boyfriend onto his lap. “I know a guy. He can record you skating down at my rink where it’s private, where he can control the sound and the lighting, splice in some footage of you competing, a montage of you receiving your medals …”

“But doesn’t that seem like overkill?” Kurt argues while he fiddles with the Blu-ray remote, preparing to press play. “I mean, I’ve already made a name for myself in this sport. Do I want to toot my own horn that loudly?”

“Yes!” Sebastian and Blaine agree in unison.

“I want to keep things simple,” Kurt continues, undeterred. “I don’t want to stand out because of my previous accomplishments. I mean, we all know that some judges are biased. I want my skating to speak for itself, and the best way for me to do that is to make a video that’s the same quality as everyone else’s is going to be.”

“But you’re not everyone else,” Sebastian says, putting an arm around Kurt’s waist and squeezing. “You’re Kurt Hummel, National Champion and Olympic hopeful. You’ve earned the right to go to any school in the country that has a skating program that meets your criteria, not the other way around.”

“Well, in this case, my criteria is go to the same school as my boyfriend.”

“I think Sebastian’s right,” Blaine says, earning him a wink from Sebastian and a roll of Kurt’s eyes. “Presentation is everything in figure skating, and the competition to get into Ivy League schools is stiff, even for someone with your impressive athletic background. A professionally produced video might seem like overkill to you, but it could be the thing that edges you one step ahead of another equally impressive applicant.”

“Blaine’s right, kiddo,” Burt says. “Never doubt the power of a good first impression.”

“Also,” Elizabeth chimes in, “not having a professionally produced video might make you appear cocky, as if you think you don’t need to pull out all the stops you’re capable of in order to get in.”

“Wha---?” Kurt stares at his friends and family, so nonchalantly bursting the bubble he’d been happily floating around in since he’d finished editing. “Y--you guys haven’t even seen my video yet, and you’re already telling me it’s not good enough to get me into Cornell!”

A collective sigh of guilt passes around the room. Sebastian whispers, “I’m sorry,” into Kurt’s back, accompanied by a trail of gentle kisses.

“I’m sorry, too, kiddo.”

“Me, three, Kurt.”

“You’re right,” Elizabeth says, reaching over to put an apologetic hand on her son’s knee. “Turn on the video. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, a spark of excitement springing back up in his stomach. “So, I recorded this on my phone down at the Ice-plex. It highlights my upper level elements – double and triple Axel, loop, Lutz, Salchow, my original footwork, and my spin combinations.”

“What? No quads?” Sebastian teases.

“There may be one or two in there,” Kurt hints, peeking over his shoulder to wink at his boyfriend. “I’m not sayin’.”

“Oh my goodness! Who’s that little sweetheart in the background?” Elizabeth asks, pointing to the screen. Both Blaine and Burt aww with her before Kurt has the chance to turn around.

“I don’t know.” Kurt shrugs. “Just some kid who showed up early with his mom. I don’t think I’ve ever met them before.”

“He reminds me of you when you started out,” Burt says with a sentimental click of his tongue. “Look at those tiny Riedell skates!”

“He even looks like you!” Blaine says. “Look at those swooped-up bangs! And that stubborn little chin!”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s adorable,” Kurt grumbles, wishing he could skip past this section infected by that show stealer in a baby blue puff coat. He makes a mental note to go back through his video later and edit him out if he can. “Can we focus on me? I’m about to perform my triple Axel-triple loop combination. It only took me one try to get it the way I wanted it.”

“Okay, okay!” his mother says, but leans in to her husband’s ear to coo about the wobbly attempt at a scratch spin the little boy makes before the video cuts to the next scene.

Jump after spin after spin after jump is met with polite and appreciative ooo’ing and ahh’ing for Kurt, but increasingly more comments about the boy in the background. Remarks about how cute he looks in his shiny black skates top the charts; followed by commentary on his fashion sense (at one point, he unzips his coat to reveal a dark blue cardigan sweater and a red-and-white polka dot bowtie, which, again, draw more comparisons between the little skater and a young Kurt); and then on his determination and burgeoning skating skill.

But none of his antics, no matter how charming, win Kurt over. The miniature heathen’s attempt at a camel spin completely detracts attention away from Kurt’s perfectly executed quad loop!

How did Kurt not notice this interloper in the background the first time around? He probably did, but just ignored him – THE WAY EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD BE DOING!!

“Okay, guys! Watch this! This is my grand finale quad-triple-triple combination!” Kurt spills the beans even though he’d intended on keeping the details secret, in the hopes of winning back the favor of his fickle audience.

For the first time since they started watching Kurt’s video, a hush falls across the living room, all eyes remaining glued to the screen and (Kurt hopes) his upcoming feat. He’d had to push back pretty far to get the whole combo in from the angle he was filming, but it came out better than he’d hoped, all three jumps – quad Salchow, triple toe loop, triple loop – captured in frame.

“Aw!” the group exclaims in unison as Kurt’s blade hits the ice for the final time. Sebastian flinches. Burt grimaces. Blaine hisses. Elizabeth gasps.

“What?” Kurt looks at their faces, each one marred with an expression of pain. “What’s wrong!? That was perfect! Picture perfect!” Kurt says, gesturing emphatically to the screen where the combination plays again, this time in slow motion.

“No, sweetie. Not that. Your jump was amazing. But the little boy. He fell. See?” Elizabeth says sadly. She grasps her husband’s hand, overwhelmed by the memories of a younger, less experienced Kurt’s falls, the times he landed on his rear when he should have landed on an edge. His watery eyes, his wails of pain, embarrassment, and disappointment, his mother rushing to his side to make sure he was okay.

Kurt turns back to the screen, peering past his own image to see the boy sitting on his backside on the ice, bawling his eyes out, while his mom takes a knee to give him a hug.

“Didn’t you go help him?” Elizabeth asks.

“No,” Kurt says, mildly offended. “Why should I? His mom was there! He was fine!”

“But he fell trying to do the jump you were doing!” his mother points out.

“And you’re a junior coach,” his dad adds. “Your job is to help skaters at the rink. You should have at least made sure he was okay.”

“I don’t believe this!” Kurt says, throwing up his hands. His mother reaches over Kurt’s knee and snatches the Blu-ray remote. She rewinds the video to replay the poor boy’s fall, presumably to make sure that things turned out okay in the end. Everyone gasps when - beyond the spectacle of Kurt’s own epic landing and impeccable form - the little boy, with eyes on Kurt, sets up to leap into the air, teeters too far backwards, and plops down on his rear. His lower lip trembles, then he drops his head back and sobs. Kurt sighs. He knows when he’s been bested.

In this case, theoretically, he just lost his spot at Cornell to a four-year-old boy in a bowtie and a puff coat.

“Sebastian, go call your friend,” Kurt says, standing from his boyfriend’s lap. “And grab your coat.”

“Why?” Sebastian asks, not taking his eyes off the boy on the screen. He beams when the boy succeeds, through tears, to land a modest Waltz Jump, and cheers along with Elizabeth, Burt, and Blaine when he repeats it two times in a row. Kurt grabs Sebastian’s hand and drags him off the chair.

“We’re going to drive down to your rink and do some horn tooting.”

“Kurt!” Sebastian scolds, following his boyfriend to the front door. “You shouldn’t say things like that in front of your parents!”

Kurt stops a foot from the doorway, confused, but scowls when he figures it out.

“Sebastian! That’s not what I meant!”

[sorryimbeingapillaboutit]

Flashback - Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Steve for a while, and are reminiscing one of your favorite memories with him.

Word Count: 1558

Warnings: None. This is fluffy fluff fluff.

A/N: I hope you guys like my first imagine! Be sure to let me know what you thought of it. I know it’s kind of cheesy and corny and fluffy-poo, but I haven’t written in a while and I needed a warm-up piece, y’know? Well, anyway, I’m open to requests if you have any! Not my gif btw

You stood in the kitchen, your hair haphazardly pulled up in the sloppiest of messy buns. You were at the sink, rinsing some green beans for dinner. Music filled the room, from the tiny little Bluetooth speaker in the corner. It was Frank Sinatra, Steve’s favorite. You weren’t much into jazz until you met Steve, and he started playing it for you. Now it was almost all you listened to. You hummed along quietly, smiling as you remembered the first time Steve played this song for you.

----------

“Now, I know you said you don’t like jazz, but I really think you’re going to like this song.” he said, this excited grin present on his face. The two of you sat in his car, an old red convertible, in the parking lot of the restaurant you at which you just ate. The top was down, the sky was dark and clear, and your stomach was happily full of Italian food.

“If you say so,” you teased lightly, brushing some loose hair behind your ear. “But if I don’t like it, don’t be too disappointed.”

Steve just looked at you and shook his head. “You’re going to like it,” he said, determined, and pressed the play button. Soon the sounds of horns and strings filled the car, and Steve pulled out onto the street. The song, ‘April in Paris’, was beautiful, and you smiled as you listened to it. It was surprising, really, how much you liked it. You stared straight ahead, focusing on the music, but you could tell Steve was glancing over at you every few seconds to gauge whether or not you liked it.

Halfway through the song, you looked over at him and grinned. “I like it,” you said, and his face lit up like a dog getting a treat.

You started to say something else, but Steve reached over and covered your mouth with his hand. “Wait!” he cut you off as the sound of the horns slowly died. “This is the best part.” Within a moment, the horns and strings swelled back up, and Frank Sinatra’s voice rang out like church bells.

You glanced down at Steve’s hand, which was still over your mouth, and pushed it away. You stayed silent for the rest of the song, listening and thinking about this night- it was your fourth date with Steve, and you really, really liked him. He was sweet, and chivalrous, and old-fashioned, which was just adorable. And he was hot as hell, which was a nice bonus. You knew that dating a superhero would be complicated, but when it was all said and done, wasn’t every relationship at least a little complicated? You wanted to try and make it work with Steve, and it really seemed like he liked you as much as you liked him.

The song ended shortly after that, and you reached over and turned the volume down a little on the radio. “Where are we going now?” you asked, looking over at the broad-shouldered blond in the driver’s seat.

“To my favorite spot in the whole city,” Steve said, glancing over at you with this gleam in his eyes you had never seen before. Maybe it was the streetlights reflecting off of their baby blue tint, or maybe it was the stars, but you had never noticed just how beautiful his eyes were.

He drove you to the World War II Memorial, and you smiled softly as he parked the car. Of course this would be his favorite spot in the city. He opened your door for you and you walked together to the memorial. The moonlight reflecting off the water and the sounds of the fountains were calming.The World War II Memorial was right in between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, so you felt a sense of patriotism as you and Steve walked together. You didn’t say much to him as you walked around the memorial together, but instead listened as he explained the symbolism of all the arches and the pillars, the water and the lights, and told you all the facts about this memorial he could spew off the top of his head. He didn’t seem terribly overrun with grief as he talked about World War II, but there was definitely a glimmer of sadness in his tone. You couldn’t imagine how hard it all must have been for him. You slowly reached over and grabbed his hand as you passed Indiana’s pillar, not saying anything as you pressed your two palms together and interlaced your fingers. He looked down at you and smiled.

“God, there’s just… there’s something about you, (Y/N),” he said to you, stopped and turning to face you.

Your lips quirked up into a small smile, and he took a step closer to you. “I don’t know what it is,” Steve continued, releasing your hand so he could wrap his arms around your waist. “But I’m gonna find out.” You looked into his big, blue, Star-Spangled eyes, and you knew what was about to happen next.

Your heart was racing as he leaned in, and your eyes fluttered shut as you stood on your toes, pursing your lips. That song, ‘April in Paris’, started playing in your head, that part that Steve had loved so much. Your lips were just about to touch, barely centimeters away, and-

“Daddy, look, it’s Captain America!”

A small voice interrupted your thoughts, and Steve’s actions, and you turned to see a young boy and his father jogging towards you and Steve. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Moment’s over. Kiss it goodbye.’

Steve stepped away from you and wiped his hands against his pants, smiling at the little boy, who couldn’t be more than six or seven. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers. But my son here is a big fan of yours- could we trouble you for an picture?” The father asked, eyes darting between Steve and you.

“Of course he can,” Steve grinned, squatting down so that the little boy was just barely taller than him. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“Bryce!” Said the young boy, grinning at his hero.

“Do you want to climb on my shoulders, Bryce?”

“Yeah!”

You laughed slightly, stepping off to the side so that Bryce’s father could snap a picture with his phone. After a few minutes of taking some pictures and small talk, Bryce and his father were soon on their way, and Steve looked at you. His expression was apologetic, and you could tell he was about to say he was sorry. “Hey, look, (Y/N), I’m real-”

“Don’t be,” you shrugged it off, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “I thought it was sweet how you let them ruin our moment,” you teased, placing his hand back on your waist. Steve’s cheeks turned pink and you stood on your toes once again, assuming the position. “Now, where were we?”

Steve chuckled and pulled you closer, lifting you up off the ground just slightly. His lips soon touched yours, and it was like a thousand fireworks lit off. It was a sweet, slow, lazy kiss, and you loved it. That was night you realized you could definitely see yourself falling in love with this goofy, old-fashioned, all-American hero.

---------

“Those green beans aren’t going to rinse themselves, Doll.”

“Shit!” You jumped, turning around to see Steve in the doorway of the kitchen. Your eyes grew wide, and your cheeks turned pink when he started laughing at you. “That’s not funny,” you pouted, tossing a green bean at him. “You scared me.”

Steve was still chuckling. He crossed the kitchen and wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you so that your hip was touching his. “What were you thinking about?” he asked, tucking some hair behind your ear and pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Nothing,” you said spitefully, sticking your tongue out before walking over to the stove and turning it on.

“Aw, come on, bug,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “It must have been pretty important to take your attention away from the beans like that.” You turned your head so that you could look at him and blew a raspberry in his face. “Now, there’s no need to be feisty,” Steve teased, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

You stirred the soup on the stovetop, trying your best to ignore him and his incessant, loving touches and kisses. “Oh, come on. I’m sorry I scared you, (Y/N). Now talk to me! I haven’t seen you in a week. What’s been on that pretty mind of yours?”

You turned so that you were facing him, and his hands were now on your lower back. “I was just thinking about you, and your stupid haircut.” You teased, smirking as you reached up and ruffled his blond locks.

He rolled his eyes, and leaned down to kiss you. “You’re a whack job sometimes, you know that?”

“I know,” you said proudly, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But I’m your whack job.”

Another Sinatra song came on through the speaker, and Steve pulled you away from the stove so that your body was touching his. He swayed with you to the song, singing softly in your ear. “Fly me to the moon…”

[juliebeanbook]

one: when the morning comes I will be alright

It was the sexiest apartment anyone had ever lived in. Andy had given it this title, and the title would stick. For years after, whenever I thought about my first apartment, I referred to it (sometimes in my mind, sometimes out loud) as the “sexy apartment.”

There was actually nothing particularly sexy about the apartment. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room that had just enough space to fit a kitchenette and a couch. (The building that contained the sexy apartment was called Maplebrook Manor. Andy and I agreed that the name sounded like an old folks home.) Andy, however, was determined from the start to make this apartment a place fit for the “most goddamned beautiful women to ever attend Birkett Uni.”

Andy had a habit of making superlatives out of everything. The grilled cheese she had for lunch was the best dairy-based sandwich anyone had ever made; the chick flick she just saw was the saddest thing she would ever experience. After living with Andy for an entire year already, I had gotten used to it.

Moving day involved a surprising amount of boxes. Our first year at Birkett, our dorm room had become accumulated with various unnecessaries, but I hadn’t realized just how much crap had actually survived the move. Andy’s boyfriend Dex came to help, and the three of us lugged box after box from Dex’s pickup truck up six flights of stairs, since the elevator was out of order. A fellow resident that we passed when making the tenth trip up informed us that he’d been living there for two years and the elevator had been out of order the entire time.

When the last box had made its way up, as well as all the furniture, Andy, Dex, and I collapsed onto the sagging floral couch. “How many times do you think we went up and down those steps?” Andy wondered.

I closed my eyes. “Fifty?” I ballparked.

“One hundred,” Dex said decisively, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m ordering Chinese.”

“I like that plan,” Andy said. “Order, like, a gazillion spring rolls.”

“Okay, Andy,” Dex said. “I’ll order a gazillion spring rolls from Golden Queen. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Andy punched him in the arm.

I stretched out on the couch with my legs over Andy’s and my feet on Dex’s knees as Andy perused the laminated Golden Queen menu card. We used to order from the Hong Kong Chinese Palace, but one bad experience with chicken balls prompted us to seek our Asian food fix elsewhere.

“Is the TV working?” I wondered out loud as Dex waited for the restaurant to pick up.

“Jules,” Dex said, “why would the TV be working? It’s not even plugged in.”

“Oh,” I said. Dex laughed. Andy didn’t respond. She was focusing.

“Hello?” Dex said suddenly.

“Hi,” I said.

Dex flipped me off.

“Yeah, I’d like…” he paused while Andy pointed out the items she’d picked. “Two orders of kung pao chicken, one beef stir-fry, two orders of chicken balls, three orders of sticky rice, and some spring rolls.” He looked at Andy with a question face, and Andy gave him a toothy grin. “A gazillion.”

Andy and I lost it.

Dex was trying not to crack up as he switched the phone to his other ear. “You can’t give me a gazillion spring rolls? No? Well then, yeah, twenty is fine.”

As Dex hung up, the two of us were still laughing. “Only twenty?” Andy cried, wiping tears off her cheeks. “That’s all you could get? That’s not even close to a gazillion.”

Dex shook his head. “I don’t know, guys. I don’t think Golden Queen is doing it for me. Only twenty spring rolls…this is injustice. I think the search for the best Chinese restaurant in the city will continue.”

There may not have been a gazillion spring rolls, but twenty was almost enough. Andy and I ate Chinese food with Dex on the floor of our sexy apartment that night and felt like Golden Queens.

/ / 

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Bohemian Rhapsody startled me into half-consciousness. My hand scrambled across an unfamiliar table, eyes still closed, and grabbed my phone. Squinting at the screen, I saw a picture of Andy’s face (one of her unattractive selfies that she’d once filled my phone with).

I groaned and stumbled out of the bed, my feet twisting in my dress crumpled on the floor. I picked up a big T-shirt from its home on the back of a desk chair and tugged it over my head so that I felt a little less naked as I crouched out in the hall.

“Hello?” I whispered.

“Julie? Where the hell are you? I thought you were dead!”

“Andy, I’m not dead –”

“No, like, I actually thought you were dead. Like I really thought –”

“Yeah, Andy, I know.”

“So where are you right now? Slash where have you been since like all night last night?”

“Um…” I looked around. I was sitting on some stained beige carpet in a strange apartment. I didn’t actually recognize my surroundings at all. I peeked back around the bedroom door, and there was Ben, still deep in sleep. Him, I recognized. “Well. Technically I don’t know exactly where I am. But last night I went home with this guy…”

“Um, sorry, who is this? I’m going to need you to put me back on the line with Julie Bean please.”

“Andy…”

“I don’t know who you are, but Julie Bean doesn’t do one night stands.”

“Andy…”

“And I quote, ‘I want to get to know guys, Andrea! How am I supposed to even know a guy at all after one trashy night in a club? Like, eww. What if he murders me? What if I willingly go home with some guy who, I don’t know, collects small figurines of cats in clothing?’”

“Andy, for Gods’ sake, I did not say that.”

“You one hundred percent did, I wrote it down, I’m not lying and you need to give me enough details that I could picture your night, like, in my head –”

“Oh my god, eww.”

“–but first get dressed and come home, kay? We need to finish unpacking, and I’m not physically fit enough to do it all by myself.”

“How do you know I’m not dressed?”

“Just put some pants on, Julie, and come home.”

I hung up and slunk back into the room. The curtains were still drawn, and the morning light filtered dimly through the brown drapes. I dropped to my knees and collected my various pieces of clothing that were scattered across the carpet. I cringed as I pulled last night’s dress back on; it reeked of smoke. Did Ben smoke? I couldn’t remember.

The night before, Andy and I had gone out with a couple of our friends for one last party before they left to go back home, as her and I were some of the only ones sticking around the city for the summer. It had been at a really nice house downtown, a friend of a friend of Renee’s (a childhood friend who’d followed me to Birkett); unfortunately, no one had really appreciated the upscale décor, the hardwood floors and heavy velvet drapes overpowered by the pull of pulsing lights and booming bass. Somewhere in between trying a mysterious fruity drink Andy had made for me and joining some strangers in an 80s jam sesh, I’d met a criminally cute guy with adorably rumpled hair. I couldn’t be sure that I had made out with him in the laundry room, but I couldn’t rule it out.

The light was too bright as I left his apartment, finding myself about ten blocks from Maplebrook. I glanced down at my god-awful heels (correction: Andy’s god-awful heels; I only ever borrowed hers). Why the hell did I think four-inch heels were a good idea at any level? I grimaced as the tips pinched my toes, sharp pain each time I took a step.

I stopped by the Moonlight Cafe to pick up some breakfast for Andy and I, my desire to get home being overpowered by my desire for pastry and caffeine. Maplebrook was just around the corner. I knew that living in such close proximity to a place with such great coffee and sugary items was going to end up being a really bad thing eventually, but for now I loved the convenience.

“Hey Andy,” I shouted into the apartment once I’d scaled all six flights of cursed stairs. “I brought Danishes and coffee!”

Andy appeared suddenly from the kitchen, grabbing me in a hug. “Ahh, Jules, have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes,” I said, “and you’re welcome for breakfast.”

Andy giggled and took the bag from me. “Let’s eat it on the balcony,” she said. “I put the loveseat out there!”

“Andy, no. It’s going to get wet when it rains, that’s a really dumb idea.”

“It is not, there’s a roof over the balcony. Just come sit with me and stop being so crotchety.”

It was admittedly comfortable, out on the old leather loveseat that took up the entire balcony. I licked cherry filling and icing sugar off my fingers and told Andy about Ben, including as many of the (admittedly few) details as I could remember.

“Julie, Julie, Julie,” Andy said, shaking her head. “That sounds amazing. So, are you going to see him again?”

I shrugged. “I left my number for him.”

She grinned, blueberry filling on her lips. “That’s my girl. It’ll work out. Hey,” she said, tapping my knee until her mouth wasn’t full anymore, “I meant to ask you. Dex’s band is playing this Friday at the Moonlight, and he’s wondering if you wanted to come in and play as a guest star. I’m pretty sure it’s because they have a shitty setlist this week and they need to fill up their time slot, but whatever, it’s a gig, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. I haven’t really been working on anything lately…”

“Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something. Do one of the songs from that guy and his sons or whatever.”

“Mumford and Sons. You’re talking about Mumford and Sons.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Anyway, are you in?”

The city underneath us was waking up. Six stories below, cars drove lazily down the road, someone called out to someone across the street, a car horn honked in annoyance. I rested my feet on the railing, legs slightly stubbly, feet still clad in last night’s heels. I felt vaguely sore and stretched-out. I told Andy I would do it, because in that moment I felt good; maybe it was leftover endorphins from sex, or the fresh morning air filling my lungs up full, or maybe the Moonlight’s Danishes were just straight-up magic.