#so in my head this post doesn't come out of nowhere it Makes Sense

[flashhwing]

mage twin reuniting with hawke: high emotions, conflicting feelings, some tears, heartbreak and relief. complicated emotions that take a while to smooth over

mage twin reuniting with bethany: but you were a BABY! you were a tiny little baby and now you're a Grey Fucking Warden! OOP sorry I mean a Grey Freaking Warden, can't curse in front of you you're a BABY

[nymph-ette111]

What if Jeff, EJ, Toby, Masky, Hoodie, and Ben (separately) found Y/N silently crying? Would they help or try to calm down Y/N?

That's it, sorry if I chose too many creepypastas ❤

I hope you have a great day/night!!

(I love your writing style aaaaah! Luv ya >< )

Sorry if I sounded cringe ;)

WARNINGS; JEFF BEING AN ASSHOLE LIKE USUAL/TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MENTIONS OF A DECAPITATED BODY

AUTHOR'S NOTE; NO ONE HERE IS CRINGE!! and I love you too <3 was giggling and kicking my feet writing masky and hoodie's part LOL

TOBY;

-the first thought that comes to his mind is that somebody caused this.

-may be a bit rough when asking what's wrong, because like I mentioned before, he just jumps into the conclusion that it's someone else's fault.

-Toby is a little... impulsive when it comes to solving his problems, always going the aggressive route.

-basically what I'm trying to say is that he is willing to chop up someone's body if they did something bad enough to make you cry.

-he will pry the information out of you, whether you want to or not.

-he doesn't realize that this makes things worse for you :( let's be realistic, imagine crying to your boyfriend because someone bothered you just for him to leave and come back covered in blood holding the head from said person's decapitated body.

-he'll even try to hug you, not caring if he is covered head to toe in blood, not caring if the smell was overwhelming your senses. he'll get upset if you refuse his "affection" and "comfort". sometimes Toby's thinking is... hard to understand.

-99% chance you're going to throw up from the sight alone. what I'm trying to say here is Toby's attempt at making you feel better is nowhere near what it's supposed to be.

-but if that wasn't the case and your crying was because of something else like an insecurity, just the overall stress of your day, basically anything that doesn't involve another person he'd be less aggressive.

-wouldn't really know what to say so he'd just go for physical affection and hope that it works.

-now this part depends on you since not everyone likes physical touch when upset. if you don't mind it then he's going to hold you until you feel better. if you don't he'd respect your wishes but he won't leave, even if you ask him to.

-would kiss away your tears one hundred percent.

-i'd give him about... 7/10 less if he brings back a corpse with him but the physical affection is nice :)

JEFFREY:

-love how your relationship is hanging on by a thread.

-it's surviving off of hopes and prayers bro.

-Jeff believes that he should be the only one who can make you upset in any way shape or form. I'd say he doesn't take the idea of someone else making you feel bad very lightly.

-not even in a "oh, someone made my partner upset! not on my watch!" he's just offended because it feels like someone took his place or something.

-yeah did I mention he's toxic as fuck.

-i honestly don't know how he'd react... contrary to popular belief I don't think he'd go out of his way to kill somebody because they made his partner upset like Toby would. in Toby's case it's out of pure love obsession and the need to please you. in Jeff's case he'd probably kill for his own benefit which I mentioned before, someone taking his place.

-fuck it he'd probably kill the person just to torment you, he enjoys that shit.

-however if it's your own feelings regardless of what it is, he'd pretend to not care.

-i think I somewhat implied it in my "stretch marks" post that he doesn't know how to handle his partner's emotions. insecurities or not, big chance he won't do anything, probably throw an insult or two just to make you feel pathetic.

-damn I don't think any fluff post with Jeff would work.

-how can this motherfucker even be nice.

-and if you're asking, no he would never break up with you. you boost his ego a little too much and he doesn't want to lose that.

-he doesn't want to admit it but he's attached to you to a certain degree.

-i'd give it... why are you even reading this it's an obvious 0/10

EYELESS JACK;

-im torn between making EJ the feral demon he is or making him more... human.

-i think I lean towards the more human side when writing for Jack but that might change in the future. expect all of my headcanons to change since I'm still trying to figure this out. even for his personality.

-i should make a poll for that... ANYWAYS

-regardless of the reason, he'd react pretty much the same way.

-he's so sweet and comforting it's actually insane :(

-he's naturally awkward but the voice, the way he weighs and genuinely considers his words before speaking, trying to find the best way to make you feel better can make anyone instantly fold I'm TELLING YOU.

-bro sounds smart and is smart just the way he talk to you is enough to make you move on from whatever had happened.

-intelligent men are so

-head scratches after he's done giving you his advice and point of view of the situation.

-my husband<3

-tries to get you out of your room after that, or just include you in whatever so you wouldn't think about it again. like offering to invite you to the infirmary, there's always an extra seat for you there :)

-i might be biased but 9/10

BEN;

-i've said this before and I'll say it again, does not know how to comfort people. especially ones he cares about.

-he just... stands at the doorway (or floats, whatever you like)

-if it was another person he laugh at them right away, but considering you're his partner he'd fight the urge for your sake.

-actually he might laugh a bit but if he notices that you're clearly serious about what upset you he'd drop it.

-would download a virus on the other person's devices.

-he thinks it's funny.

-he genuinely tries to make you feel better tho, just doesn't know how :(

-if you're insecure about something then he'd react similarly to my "stretch marks" post and try to convince you that whatever it is about you, it's beautiful.

-might come off as corny tho.

-either way... I'd give him a 5/10 maybe even 6/10 if bullying kids on roblox cheers you up.

MASKY;

-regardless of the reason, he'll ask what's wrong but secretly hopes you don't want to talk about it.

-he is a teen tiny bit awkward.

-kind of like Toby, he goes for physical affection and hopes it's enough to take your mind off of it somehow.

-but the hugs this man gives...

-might as well stay there forever.

-just imagine him holding you tight to his chest, one hand rubbing your back while the other plays with your hair. a cig hanging loosely from between his lips UGH

-can you tell I'm listening to lana del rey while writing this.

-again he might not offer much in terms of... actually saying something to comfort you but his hugs are enough and if they aren't then girl what the fuck is wrong with you.

-i need him.

-i give 8/10

HOODIE;

-another one who relies on the physical affection only because he's a selective mute.

-unless you know sign language.

-unlike masky, instead of a hug you're sitting on this man's lap.

-his mask up to the bridge of his nose, scruff facial hair grown from years of not taking proper care of himself rubbing against your flush cheeks, strong arms holding you tightly against him.

-i genuinely cannot continue writing this so I'm ending it here because another word of describing this man will have me tweaking out 9/10

[sapphic-agent]

One thing I didn't touch on in my Book 3 Aang analysis was that an important part of his character development was just dropped out of nowhere. I'm of course talking about him letting go of Katara.

I didn't notice it before, but this was such a strange decision to make looking back. Because watching both The Guru, it's heavily implied- if not outright told to us- that in order to not only be the Avatar the world needs, but to heal and grow, he needs to let her go.

You have indeed felt a great loss. But love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us. The Air Nomads' love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love.

This is pretty blatantly telling us that Aang's love for Katara comes from the loss of his people. He, upon realizing that he was alone, attached himself to the first person to care for him. The first person to embrace him in one hundred years. He's projecting the love he had for the Air Nomads onto her. And while understandable given the circumstances, that isn't healthy. Aang's attachment to Katara comes from feelings of grief as well as physical attraction, which is a... Bad combination.

(And before anyone says it, no I don't think that's the only way he cares for her. But I do think even their platonic relationship is tainted by not only this, but everyone around them enabling Aang. So many people told him that he just needed to wait and she would come around, that he was the Avatar so of course she would- Avatar Roku I am in your walls- not one person told him to be ready to accept rejection. Not one person told him to respect and be mindful of her boundaries. Are we surprised he did what he did in DOBS and EIP?)

"The Thought Chakra is located at the crown of the head. It deals with pure cosmic energy, and is blocked by earthly attachment. Meditate on what attaches you to this world. Now, let all of those attachments go. Let them flow down the river, forgotten."

I did actually mention this briefly in my Book 3 post, but I sincerely doubt Guru Pathik is telling him he can't love. Roku, Kyoshi, and Korra all found love and they had complete control over their Avatar States (Korra was at her most balanced when she got together with Asami btw). Letting go doesn't mean Aang can't love.

Appa, someone Aang loves more than anything, doesn't appear in this vision. Neither does Sokka, Momo, or Toph. Just Katara.

His attachment to Katara is what's holding him back. Because it's unhealthy, and it's keeping him anchored down. This isn't just about the Avatar State, it's about healing the turmoil in himself. He cannot do that if he doesn't let her go.

(This behavior is even escalated in LOK. Only instead of Katara, he attached himself to Tenzin. Tenzin being an Airbender gave Aang credence to project his love for the Air Nomads onto him. Not only did he then neglect Kya and Bumi because of it, I would also argue that he did a good amount of damage to Tenzin himself. Being put on a pedestal like that by a parent is so harmful)

The fact that none of this is even mentioned in Book 3 doesn't make a whole lot of sense. It was an important part of Aang's development and integral for his growth and healing

[trulybetty]

Sequins | Joel Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) + no outbreak AU Reader: no physical descriptions, reader wears a dress Word Count: 3,195 Warnings: 18+, smutty mc smut smut, alcohol, nightclubs, drunken behaviour, public sexual acts, Joel Miller comes with his own warnings. Summary: On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you. AO3: Linked

A/N: everyone and all, this fic is based on the post that launched a thousand thots and we can all thank @wildemaven for all of this as she inspired the whole thing.

Sequins.

The club was loud, the lights were bright, the drinks were way too expensive and you had lost sight of your friends on your way back from the bar.

Just as you were contemplating retreating to a quieter corner of the club to check your phone, you collided with a pair of broad shoulders.

“Whoa there,” the stranger said, steadying you by the arm. “You alright there darlin'?”

His voice was a deep Texas drawl and for a brief second, the noise of the club seemed less loud as you got lost in his dark brown eyes. They were weary but kind, a stark contrast to the rowdy atmosphere surrounding you.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” you replied, adjusting your dress, cursing as several of the sequins dropped to the floor with the tug you gave it from where it'd rode up on your thighs. You clutched your drink a little tighter too, not wanting to lose the contents of the twelve-dollar highball you hadn't even had a chance to sip at yet. “Just lost my bearings for a second.”

He looked as out of place as you felt, clad in a button-up plaid green shirt and jeans, clearly uncomfortable amidst the flashing lights and thumping bass. It was endearing, in a way. With a little smile tugging at your lips, and the alcohol emboldening you, you decided to take a chance.

“You look a bit out of your element,” you winked, “First time in a place like this?”

He chuckled as he raised a curious eyebrow, “Is it that obvious ma’am?”

“A little bit,” you said playfully as you wrapped your lips around the thin cocktail straw of your drink. “But it's charming. So, what brings you here?” you asked, leaning in closer so he could hear you over the music, gesturing at the crowded dance floor.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and shrugged. “My brother's bachelor party, so I couldn't exactly say no,” he said, nodding toward a group of rowdy men holding up the bar at the other end of the room. “I'm the best man, so I had to come along and make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid.”

He glanced back at you, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a mischievous smirk. “What about you darlin'? You with anyone tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “We're here for a bachelorette party, seems like the place to be for pre-wedding celebrations tonight.”

His eyebrows raised in question, his gaze flickering to your left hand. “So is it safe to assume you're not the bride?”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips at his brazen assumption, the sound ringing out above the music.

Shaking your head, you had a smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No, I'm the maid of honour,” you said, “I was supposed to be on duty, but I guess I failed because I can't find the bride.” Your gaze swept around for any sign of your group of friends but they were nowhere to be found.

He smiled, and for a brief second, the heavy bass and flashing lights seemed to disappear. “Well, if you’re failing your duties, I guess that makes two of us.”

You took a sip of your drink, the alcohol warming your throat, and looked Joel up and down. There was a rugged sincerity about him, a sense of grit that you found intriguing.

“So, you got a name cowboy?”

He laughed quietly as he shook his head, “Joel,” he answered, and you found the gesture of him almost offering his hand for a handshake endearing before he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “And who might you be sweetheart?” he asked.

You gave him your name before your tongue found the straw of your drink again and took a short sip. You could feel his gaze land on your lips as you sipped.

“Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment. His eyes were still fixed on your mouth and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, suddenly feeling a little awkward under Joel's gaze. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw a glint of amusement there, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“So, your girlfriend let you out for the night?”

He released a low chuckle from deep within his chest. “No girlfriend to speak of,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“How about a wife then?” you inquired, your eyes twinkling with curiosity.

He shook his head again. “Nope. Flying solo these days.”

You eyed him with interest, studying every detail-from the sparkle in his eyes to the subtle wrinkles around them. You hummed thoughtfully before replying, “Interesting.”

You couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction towards him. There was something about his demeanour that made your heart race. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his voice sent shivers down your spine. Whatever it was, you couldn't deny that there was chemistry between the two of you.

“Interesting, you say?” Joel leaned in, a coy grin on his face. “What's so interesting about a single guy at a bachelor party?”

You matched his posture, leaning in just close enough to make the tension palpable. “Well, a guy like you, good-looking, charming, single. It's either a mystery or a tragedy.”

Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement. “You think I'm charming, huh? Well, let's call it a mystery for now.”

You smiled. “A mystery it is, then.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, on the edge of the crowded venue, caught in a mix of smoky air, flashing lights, and electric vibes, sharing a sort of silent agreement that this meeting, this connection, was something more.

“So,” Joel hesitated, clearly trying to phrase his next question carefully. He cleared his throat, a little awkward as he tried to navigate the terrain of flirtation. “If you're here, not being the bride and all, and I'm here, not being the groom, would it be too presumptuous of me to assume that you're...uh, not seeing anyone?”

His roundabout way of asking made you laugh. It was a little clumsy but endearing in its awkwardness. His flirting skills were obviously rusty, but it just made him more appealing.

“No husband, no boyfriend. Free as a bird,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

He gave a half smile as he crossed his arms over his chest, the stretch of the shirt over his biceps and shoulders caused you to involuntarily lick your lips. A move that wasn't missed on him as he smirked to himself as he shifted in his stance.

“You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here,” you observed.

He looked at you, his eyes sincere. “Well, I wouldn't say 'anywhere.' I've enjoyed bumping into you, for one.”

It was evident now that there was attraction between the two of you. You could feel the electricity in the air around you, and it made your heart flutter in anticipation. The light from the club's strobe lights bounced off of your sequined dress, highlighting every curve of your body. His gaze seemed to linger on each one of them, causing a warmth to spread through you.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you both and stopped when his body was mere inches away from yours. His gaze lifted up to meet yours, and you swore that you could see a sparkle of desire deep within his eyes.

Your fingers trailed up his bare forearm, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even in the dim light of the club, you could make out the definition of the muscle that flexed under your fingertips. Your fingers ran back down and you outlined the watch at his wrist, the large dial secured with a green canvas strap. Pausing for a moment you looked up at him from under your lashes and you could see from the laboured rise and fall of his chest that he was feeling whatever it was between you two also.

You paused, lifting your gaze from Joel to scan the fringes of the dance floor, checking if anyone was watching or if you were at risk of being 'caught'. The crowd seemed too engrossed in their own worlds, dancing and laughing, oblivious to the electric connection you were sharing with Joel at the edge of the dance floor.

Without breaking eye contact, and in a move that surprised even you, you took his hand by the wrist and brought it to the hem of your dress, and under. He raised an eyebrow in a silent ask of permission, your response was to move his hand higher up your thigh. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His fingers, while calloused from manual labour moved deftly to push aside your underwear. His fingers curled into his palm, he let his knuckles run down the length of you, and you couldn’t help the gasp that bubbled up from your throat as they made their way back up, your hands still wrapped around his forearm. 

Joel's lips curved into a grin as he watched your reaction. He glanced around surreptitiously, then leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Is this what you want, darlin'?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You barely managed a nod, the closeness of him in combination of his fingers unfurling into you while the thrill of intimacy in a public setting tinged by the alcohol on your tongue was intoxicating. 

His body moved even closer to yours, your drink balancing precariously on your upturned palm as his other hand snaked past your hip to your ass, your dress riding up slightly in the process. He kept his hand in place, his thumb gently ghosting your clit with steady pressure and his index finger and middle finger parted and slowly slipped inside of you. You let out a soft moan as your body adjusted to his fingers, and your grip around his forearm loosened.

He leaned in, his lips travelling down your neck. You felt a shiver run through your body as his teeth grazed over the exposed skin, each kiss sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. He dropped kisses to your exposed neck, his lips tracing a line up to your ear. He whispered something inaudible, the words barely discernible over the music blaring from the speakers. 

Your one arm wrapped around his neck while your free hand found its way to his broad shoulder, you held on for dear life as he continued to drop soft kisses along your collarbone. Your nails dug in as his fingers somehow managed to move deeper. His thumb increased its pressure as his fingers curled inside of you, coaxing out the sensation that had been building inside of you since the second you'd bumped into him.

The thrill of being caught heightened every sense and quickly was building a delicious tension between your hips and you let out a sigh that was drowned out by the thumping beat of the music. He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eye before leaning back in to finally put his lips to yours, his fingers never once losing their steady pace as you hungrily returned his kiss.

As soon as he broke the kiss to catch his breath, your lips never left his. Your tongue invaded his mouth, tasting the alcohol on his tongue from the drink he'd finished earlier, before your teeth clenched into his bottom lip. He let out a soft moan as you bit down, your fingernails now scraping the back of his neck.

A moan escaped your lips as he quickened his pace, the perfect timing catching you right at the edge of your climax. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled you towards him. His free hand rubbed the small of your back in a soothing circle, trying to calm your uncontrollable trembling.

You could feel the jagged hiss of his breath against your ear as he pulled away just enough to whisper “Let it go, darlin’.”

You pressed against him, your nails biting into his shoulder as you came hard on his fingers.

“Joel...” you managed to whimper out as you clung to him.

Your breath hitched and before you knew it, a wave crashed through your body, carrying with it sensations unlike the ones before. Your nails dug into Joel's shoulder as waves of pleasure coursed through every nerve-ending in your body until eventually they subsided and all that was left was the warmth radiating from between your thighs and Joel's softly whispered words in your ear telling you how beautiful you were.

You collapsed against him, completely spent your body still quivering around him he held you steady, never once taking his hands away.

He glanced around to see if anyone had caught sight of your public display, and thankfully no one had. “You okay there sweetheart?” he said breathlessly, his hand still in place, sliding in and out of you slowly and teasing as you tried to regain some composure.

He looked at you with a soft smile, your free fingers now playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. The bass was now shaking the floor, its vibrations now mixed with the buzz of your orgasm.

He smiled as he slowly pulled his hand away, his fingers slipping from your body creating a shiver to run through you. He leaned in closer and softly grazed his lips against yours before pulling away.

“That was…” your voice trailed off as your tongue stumbled trying to find words, your voice barely audible over the music.

Joel’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, just on the edge of uttering a response, when a lurching figure ambled up and draped their arms across his shoulder.

“Hey! There you are! Brother-” the slurred voice that came from the man who had stumbled into Joel. Based on the striking resemblance it could only be his brother whose bachelor party he'd mentioned it was. Joel quickly let go of your hand to suddenly catch him as he stumbled, shouldering the weight of his younger brother - the only thing now that was keeping him standing, “I think I want to go find Maria.” Tommy hiccuped, unaware of the spell he had just broken.

Joel's face flushed crimson and he looked at you apologetically, “I think it's time to get you home, Tommy.”

You took a step back, understanding the need for him to take care of his brother and trying not to make things awkward.

“Maybe I could give you my number? Maybe we can catch up when your hands aren't so full?” You gestured towards Tommy, whose eyes were glassy as tried to remain upright.

He frowned slightly before understanding crossed over his features and a grin appeared on his face, “Well, a gentleman could never say no to a lady such as yourself.”

He handed over his phone, managing to retrieve it from his back pocket while still holding Tommy, who was currently singing the praises of his fiancée in a tipsy monologue. You quickly tapped your way through the phone, pausing only to smile at the phone's background.

“Alright, you're all set,” you said, handing him back his phone with a smile before you busied yourself with your own briefly.

“Was that your number I just got a notification for?” he asked, pocketing the phone.

You smirked and said, “Why don’t you check it out when you get home? It's more of a surprise that way.”

He chuckled, before ushering his brother out the door. He paused and looked back at you, mouthing 'bye' as he put his arm around Tommy's waist and started walking away.

You watched them go, your eyes lingering on Joel's figure until they disappeared into the crowd. You blew out a long breath, feeling your heart thump in your chest from the adrenaline rush of what had just taken place. Your body still felt tingly from where his fingers had been moments ago and you allowed yourself to bask in it for a few more seconds before shaking off the trance-like state, and heading out to find your friends who had been blowing up your phone wondering where you were.

As you tucked yourself into bed, your phone buzzed with a new message. Opening it, you found a text from Joel.

Hey darlin', get home safe?

Smiling, you tapped out a reply, Yes, thank you for asking. How about you, cowboy?

Just got home. Tonight was something. Glad we met.

Feeling your heart swell with affection, you set your phone down on the bedside table. Squeezing your thighs together it was almost as if you could feel his fingers lingering there still. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in your thoughts when they were interrupted by a dip in the bed behind you.

A warm arm wrapping around your waist pulled you against their chest, the bristle of a beard that refused to grow nuzzled into the space between your shoulder and neck. 

“There’s sequins all over this damn house.”

“My dress,” you murmured half asleep as you leaned back into the embrace, kisses ghosting the underside of your jaw. “They just kept falling off.”

“Did you have a good night?”

“Mm, I did. It was... unexpected,” you responded, feeling the gentle press of his lips against your skin as he chuckled softly. “How about you?”

His arm tightened around you for a moment, pulling you even closer to him. “Well, I met this incredibly beautiful woman at some club, and it turns out she's already my wife. So, I'd say it's a win.”

You laughed quietly at that, loving how he could still make your heart race even after years of marriage. “You're incorrigible,” you said, placing your hand over his where it rested on your waist.

Joel chuckled softly into your hair, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine despite the coziness of your surroundings, “In the best way, I hope,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

“The very best way,” you confirmed, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. You were both right where you belonged, and despite the evening's antics, that thought filled you with a profound sense of peace.

You smiled, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes in the dim light filtering through the curtains. “And how's Tommy? Did he make it to bed alright?”

Joel sighed, “Ah, well he definitely had one too many, gettin’ him into bed was like wrestlin' a bear, but he's sleeping it off. Thanks again for ordering that Uber darlin', I wouldn't have had a clue. Thought he was going to kick us out at one point, Tommy hollerin' about how much he'd drank.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, absorbing the feel of each other, the simple joy of being close after a night that had, at first, seemed destined to keep you apart.

As you began to drift off, Joel kissed the back of your head, whispering softly, “I love you, sweetheart.”

A contented smile tugged at your lips. “I love you too, Joel.”

[kinkyrafe]

sub!rafe kinktober prompts

hello my loves,

I know the sub!rafe fandom is pretty small but nevertheless a couple of people were interested in a sub!rafe kinktober, so let's do it! I know this is super spontaneous and there's not much time to prepare now but even if we get only a couple of drabbles, headcanons, moodboards or digital art posts here and there I'd totally consider this a win. use whatever prompt you like, join in at whatever day you like and tag your work #sub!rafekinktober -- I'd be super happy if you tagged me as well so I can repost your work even if it doesn't show up in the tag.

the prompts

Oct. 01: "Your body wants it, even if you say otherwise." Oct. 02: "You don’t get to decide when it ends. That’s my job." Oct. 03: "Show me how obedient you can be." Oct. 04: "Tied up and nowhere to go just how I like you." Oct. 05: "Does that feel good?" Oct. 06: "You're not in charge here, no matter how much you want to be." Oct. 07: "I really need to get out of my head." Oct. 08: "Are you sure you want to challenge me when I literally have all the control over you?" Oct. 09: "This is impossible." Oct. 10: "You’re not getting free until I’m satisfied." Oct. 11: "I've done worse to you before, come on." Oct. 12: "Be good and spread your legs." Oct. 13: "I can feel how badly you want it, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give in." Oct. 14: "There you go, baby." Oct. 15: "Ready to beg for me?" Oct. 16: "Is that what I think it is?" Oct. 17: "Sit still or I'll stop." Oct. 18: "Every time you listen, you make me proud." Oct. 19: "How does this position feel?" Oct. 20: "You’re trembling. Is it from fear, or from wanting more?" Oct. 21: "I could also distract you from work." Oct. 22: "It's an order!" Oct. 23: "You gotta work for every single orgasm." Oct. 24: "No hiding." Oct. 25: "Let go. Let me take care of everything." Oct. 26: "You’re perfect for me." Oct. 27: "You did so well today." Oct. 28: "Now where’s the fun in that?" Oct. 29: "Hands behind your back." Oct. 30: "How are you so good at this?" Oct. 31: "Make the most of it."

I love quote prompts and I really hope you do, too. I briefly considered providing scenario / activity prompts but even (or especially) within the BDSM community, the kinks are so diverse that some kinks would have been left out and at the same time, I myself just don't want to write certain kinks -- if that makes sense. with the quote prompts everyone can choose the kink and the scenario for themselves.

enough with the rambling. one more disclaimer: you'll probably see me violate my own schedule. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to write 31 drabbles. I'm currently aiming to upload every second day of October, starting on the 2nd (lame, I know). however, to make up for it, I'll try and use two quote prompts in one drabble.

alright. I hope you'll enjoy this -- I sure as hell will.

let's ruin this b**** (with love).

happy kink season, my loves!

xx bab

_______

@yagirlwrites @audzss

[ray-ray-writings]

My Cinderella AU with Schlatt

Welp... Who would have thought that Schlatt would be the one out of all of the MCYTs to NOT be outed as an abuser....

Anywho, I watched the Cinderella movie with Camila Cabello and instantly wanted to write an AU of my own of Cinderella but I didn't want to put in the work to create my own new characters and establish them and all of that fun stuff. So I did what I do best, toss already established characters into a storyline. What a weird piece of work to post on my blog after several years...

But here you go, 16.3k words of a Cinderella AU with reader as Cinderella and Schlatt as Prince Charming. If you read, I appreciate you. Consider leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog and tell me whatcha liked about it. No pressure tho <3.

Summary: A Cinderella AU in which reader is a baker and Schlatt is a Prince. the two meet in a market square where the reader in turns insults Schlatt to his face without realizing who they're talking to and the story of the relationship that then ensues.

Pairing: JSchlatt x Gender Neutral!Reader (I tried to keep in gender neutral but I may have slipped here and there, if you notice any parts that happens let me know and I'll fix it!

Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Content Warnings: all warnings that typically come with cinderella: ie dead parents, shitty step family, reader being told she doesn't deserve good things, the word papi... like twice... you'll see. The use of "Jonathon" being Schlatt's "real" first name, Swearing, second person POV, when the text is in italics it's as if it's following Schlatt in third POV, i hope that makes sense, shitty writing at the end because I still haven't figured out how to end stories uwu.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Once Upon a Time,

You lived with your stepmother and two stepsisters. Your mother died when you were young. She died after being thrown from a horse, hitting her head off the ground, and never waking up. 

Your father had remarried within a year, but had swore to never love again. He married simply because he knew he was sick and didn’t want to die and leave you alone if he were to die when you were a minor. Sure enough, he passed when you were 15. 

One thing your parents had gifted you before their passing is your love for baking. You could bake like nobody’s business. You had tried to get a job at the bakery when you had come of age but the baker didn’t appreciate your helpful tips on what to improve on and what would make his baked goods taste better. So you just bake and hang out in the square, selling to those that know you and know of your business. 

You did your best to spend most of your time out of your home as your stepfamily was not kind to you. They teased and taunted you and made your life hell. You would have left the moment you were of age, but you had nowhere else to go. This was your family’s home, you didn’t make enough money baking on the side to justify moving out. So you were just waiting to meet someone who would sweep you off your feet and carry you away from here. 

It’s not ideal, but that is the way that life is. 

Across the land, Prince Schlatt was born and raised in the castle. He was waited on hand foot, life served to him on a silver platter. But the boy grew to a man with a kind heart, even if it tended to hide behind sarcasm and taunts. His father, King Philza, had done his best to teach Schlatt how to be a great ruler while his mother, Queen Kristen, had done her best to teach him how to be a loving man. 

Schlatt loves his parents, but sometimes wanted to be his own man without his parent’s hovering over his shoulder telling him who to be. To be who he wanted to be, without the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.

King Philza has been harping on him for rejecting so many marriage proposals, lecturing him on how important it was for him to find a suitable match before his coronation so that everything was in order before it was time for him to take over the throne. 

Schlatt has always given the same response, “I don’t to marry just anyone. I want to marry for love, father, just like you.” 

Philza would roll his eyes but say nothing more on the subject until the next day. Kristen was always proud of the way her son would respond, but never interrupted the two. The supportive smile she always sent Schlatt as he left was incredibly telling though.

One of the only good things about your stepfamily was that they stayed out of the kitchen. Your stepmother learned quickly about how well you could cook and bake from how you always made meals for your father that she never felt the need to cook herself. Instead, she found it easier to boss you around and force you to cook for her and her daughters. 

You found you didn’t mind it though, the kitchen was your happy place. It was one of the only spaces where you knew that you wouldn’t be bothered, that for a moment while you rolled out dough or poured some batter you could pretend like everything in your life was perfect.

You needed more ingredients. For baking and for dinners. You had left the house with the small amount of money that your stepmother had given you and made your way to the market square. In your basket, a number of sweet treats to sell for your pocket cash to your normal customers after you run your errands. 

The sun feels nice on your face. You’re used to heat pressing into the as you stand over a hot stove or an open oven, so the sunlight shining on you makes you feel slightly at home. Comfortable even. Maybe a bit too comfortable and unaware of your surroundings because it’s not too long while you’re lost in thought before you slam into someone. The basket flies out of your hand and tumbles to the ground, several of the treats falling to the ground. 

You let out a gasp as you fall onto your butt on the ground. The man you have bumped into lets out a quiet “oh shit,” before reaching down and picking up some of the treats that have fallen out. 

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand for you to take. You carefully take his hand, allowing your eyes to scan the stranger. The first thing that you notice is his eyes. They’re fucking beautiful. The pools of dark chestnut brown bore into yours so deeply it momentarily takes your breath away. You’re able to see the way they fill with concern all the while they flick down and examine you, if you were of more a mind, you would blush. 

The next thing you notice is the mask that covers the lower half of his face. You stop your brows from furrowing at the sight. You continue to observe him. You note the way that his brown hair is pulled back, which is what allowed you to see his eyes so strikingly before. His clothes are a bit on the fancier side of those that come to the market. He’s strong too, you can tell by the way he pulls you up from the ground with no real effort exerted. His hands are on the softer side. He feels familiar but you can’t place where you know him. 

Oh fuck. You’re the prettiest person Schaltt has ever seen. He’s been introduced to countless nobles, never ending royalty, long lines of commoners, but none of them could compare to how absolutely stunning you look right now. And he’s just made a huge ass full of himself by running into you and sending some of your baked goods AND you flying to the ground. At least he was smart enough to wear a mask to hide his face and therefore his identity. He knows his facial hair is incredibly recognizable. Even if he wasn’t presenting as the crowned prince, he better make this right. 

“It’s alright,” you respond once you’ve shaken yourself out of your stupor, reaching for your basket. He quickly hands it back to you. You do a quick inventory and note that about a third of your stock had fallen to the ground. “Great, just great,” you murmur quietly to yourself. 

“Again, I’m so sorry about that… let me replace what you’ve lost. Allow me to walk you to the bakery so you can buy more.” The stranger says, motioning toward the bakery, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The laugh you let out causes the man’s shoulders to deflate, causing you to clear your throat and instantly start explaining. “No, no, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Rather laughing at the thought of me buying anything from that fucking guy.” 

His brows furrow as he looks at the pastries. “You didn’t get them from the baker? Where did you get them from then?” 

“I made them myself.” You answer simply, giving a small shrug. “The baker didn’t want to hire me and so I bake them at my house and sell them on the square to a few people.” 

His brows hit the top of his forehead. “Oh shit, really? I guess I just made you lose income then, huh? Let me pay for them then.”

“Oh, no really it’s okay. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

“No really. I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He states before digging into his pockets and pulling out 5 gold pieces and pressing them into your hand. 

You stare at the gold in shock. “Sir, I can’t accept this. I only charge 2 copper for one cookie. This is far too much, please take it back.” 

Schaltt panics. It’s been forever since he’s had an economics class and he isn’t sure how much money is a lot of money to common folk. He realizes 5 gold is probably a bit too much, especially after you tell him of what you usually charge. It’s too late to back out now. 

“Nah,” he answers. “I guess it just means you have to give me the rest that’s in the basket.” 

Without hesitation, you hold the basket out for him to take. He’s surprised by your quick movement but carefully takes the basket from your hands. He grabs the cloth that covers the basket gently and carefully pulls it back, revealing a plethora of baked goods, the sight makes his mouth water. “Woah, these look professionally made.” 

You let out a huff and puff out your chest a bit more. “Well I am a professional. And they would look better, but someone caused the basket to hit the ground.” 

His laugh may be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. It makes your heart flutter and you have to will the heat to not flood your cheeks. “I apologized for that already,” He teases. 

“Yeah well, it still happened didn’t it,” you shoot back. 

He laughs again, which surprises you. Most people would have called you rude by now and left you to stand here alone. But not this strange stranger. You don’t mind his presence though. “You’re funny…” He trails off

You realize he’s waiting for your name and you supply it to him. He echos it back, stating it slowly as if to savor every syllable, to test how it feels on his tongue and his teeth before he hums. “I’m charmed to meet your acquaintance,” He states, reaching out grabbing your hand, bending at the waist, and pressing the back of your hand to his masked lips. It takes everything in you to will the blood to NOT rush to your cheeks. 

He drops your hand before straightening up. “Now if you don’t mind, I will be trying one of these delectable looking desserts.” 

He reaches into the basket and pulls out a chocolate chocolate-chip cookie. “Oh fuck yes. These are my fucking favorite.” 

You can’t stop the grin and giggle that escapes you.

The stranger turns from you and for a moment your heart falls and your stomach turns as you think that he’s walking away from you. But you’re able to see his hand move up to the lower half of his face and you realize he’s pulling his mask down in order to eat. You quickly look away to give the man his privacy. You may be curious as to what he looks like, but you value respecting his choices above all else. 

Holy fuck it’s one of the tastiest things he’s ever eaten. His eyes close as he groans at the taste that fills his mouth. He’s glad he had the sense to turn around and his face and expression from you. He couldn’t imagine how embarrassing he looks right now. 

You hear him let out a groan of approval and you can only assume that something has hit his tongue. “This is delicious.” Your assumptions are confirmed as his voice comes out muffled from the food in his mouth. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you chide, looking at the bustling people of the market stalls.

Schlatt chuckles, pulling the mask back up and turning back to face you. He’s stunned for a moment to not meet your eyes. Realizing why you’re angled and looking the way that you are. His own heart skips a beat before he clears his throat. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before softly letting you know you’re good to look. 

You’re slightly disappointed to find the mask still in its place but you understand the want for privacy perhaps more than most. “So it was good then?” You ask. 

He nods enthusiastically. “It was fucking amazing. I can’t wait to get back to the castle and try the rest of them.” He says, realizing a moment too late his slip. 

Your brows hit the top of your forehead, “The castle? Do you live in the castle?” You can’t stop the question that falls from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m a guard. I live in the castle, and I’m a guard. Today’s my day off.” He explains. His words are rushed, but who are you to question a man you just met.

You give a couple nods, “I see,” you state simply, “That makes sense.” 

Internally Schlatt lets out a loud breath of relief that you bought the lie. The castle has been his home his entire life and he wasn’t thinking when he spoke so he’s glad you easily bought his excuse of being a guard.

“It makes sense considering you just handed me 5 gold like it’s not more than I will make in two months and King Philza makes sure that the guards get paid an excellent salary… not that he makes sure the rest of the citizens get paid the same. But that’s neither here nor there.” You huff. 

The stranger’s brows lift. “What do you mean by that?” 

Your face burns as you catch what you just admitted. “Oh nothing.” You rush. “Sorry you probably are more than happy with the decisions the king makes. Not to imply anything. Sorry.” 

“No, no it’s alright. I want to hear it.” 

And want to hear it, he does. No one has the guts to speak so plainly to him when they’re around him. So he wants to hear it. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

You clear your throat and square your shoulders. “Well if you insist. Often it feels like the king, the whole royal family really, doesn’t care about those that do not live in the castle. I can’t get a job because no one can afford to hire anyone because everyone is just barely scraping by. It’s like he can’t see past his own front lawn. Which sucks because everyone talks about what a great guy he is, but sometimes I don’t think he’s a very good king.”

Schlatt hums in acknowledgement. You bring up some really good points. He also sometimes feels like his father forgets he’s supposed to be ruling for the people and isn’t supposed to be ruling his son’s life… speaking of. “Well I’m sure you can’t wait for his son to take over the throne then? Schlatt?” He is instantly startled by the loud laughter that bubbles from your throat.

“Schlatt? That big, petty,  man-baby? Yeah. Sure. I’m excited to see how that big man-baby decides to rule the kingdom. You know, I heard that he grew those mutton chops to make himself more unattractive to potential suitors. I think he didn’t realize how fucking good he looks with them. At least from what I’ve seen from a distance. I think he makes them work, and I’m definitely not the only one in the kingdom that agrees. I think he just needs to bite the bullet and just… I don’t know. Do it.” 

Schlatt once again thanks his past self profusely for the idea of wearing a mask to hide his face because he can feel the way his cheeks heat up to what he is sure is a bright red. You’re not particularly wrong. That was the original thought. To make himself look unkempt and not put together in an attempt to drive away potential suitors but he grew to like how they looked and grew fond of the hair. 

“I don’t think he should just bite the bullet and marry the first person that asks for his hand” he defends, “I think he wants to marry for love. Not for some political alliance. I think that’s admirable.” 

“Oh I agree. My apologies. That’s not what I meant. I meant he needs to bite the bullet and be fucking honest with the kingdom. The news that we get from the castle is that he’s the one that’s been rejected. That he wants to find the perfect alliance. That he wants what’s best for the kingdom. And while I agree that maybe he does, he needs to be fucking honest with us and tell us the truth. That he’s looking for love. Not what would ‘be best for the kingdom.’ We don’t mind that’s what’s happening, it’s the fact we’re being lied to, ya know?”

“Huh, so that’s the news that is coming out of the castle… I’ll have to talk to someone about that.” 

Your breath catches slightly. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Forget me and my words. I know not of what I speak.” 

“No, sweets. You have valid points. They deserve to be heard. I won’t mention your name if you wish. But I will make them hear me. I’m actually rather close with the prince.” He can’t help but internally snicker to himself. Closer than you know. 

The blood drains from your face. “Of course you are. Of course I complain about the prince to someone that has direct connection with him… fuck. Okay. Cool. Good to know. Well… I have to go. I have to get my ingredients still and I must be home before stepmother gets there. It was a pleasure meeting you.” You state quickly before attempting to rush past him. 

You're stopped by his hand grasping your shoulder gently, causing you to turn around to face him. “Will I ever see you again?” 

The way he asks is so soft and gentle. It causes your heart to pound loudly and the breath to pause in your throat. “Maybe,” you breathe out. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment more before it hits you. “I have a carrier pigeon. I’ll send it with a letter to the castle and we can talk like that. Maybe sometime we can meet again. Maybe on one of your days off.” 

The man’s beautiful brown eyes light up with delight. “That would be amazing. I look forward to hearing from you.” He allows his hand to trail from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, and he lifts the hand to his lips before placing a kiss to it. He gives you a soft wink as he drops your hand. You turn away as you blush, willing yourself to calm down. 

“Oh!” You startle, “I forgot to ask your name-“ the words die on your lips to find the spot next to you vacated with the tall stranger nowhere in sight. “Great. Just great… well. I better get going. Those cookies won’t bake themselves.” 

Schlatt has never felt so giddy. He can’t wait to hear from you. He also realizes he never gave you a name, he’ll just have to keep his eye out for a new and unfamiliar carrier pigeon.

 

You debate with yourself when you get home what the proper waiting time is for sending a stranger a letter with the pigeon. Because you wrote one as soon as you got home and it was ready to send within two hours of meeting him. Sending one that quickly may spook him. It could cause him to think you’re weird. 

You decide you’ll wait a couple hours, bake cookies and make dinner and then when your stepmother allows you to retire to your room, that is when you’ll send it. And so that is what you do. You check over the letter a thousand times before you tuck it into the envelope and hand it to your carrier pigeon. “To the castle pigeon, look for a man with brown hair and brown eyes… well that’s specific huh?... I really should have gotten his name. Okay… well… I guess we will half to wing it.” You scribble down something on the envelope and hand it to the pigeon who takes it with its foot and flies off to the castle. 

Schlatt is taking a stroll in the gardens, kicking himself for not asking for a better way to contact you. He hadn’t heard anything from you and at this point he’s worrying he never will. He’s spent most of his time analyzing the conversation over and over again in his head and realized that he probably came off too strong and too weird and he will be lucky to ever see you again. 

He jumps as a pigeon lands on his shoulder,to his head snapping to the side to meet the wide, vacant eye of the bird. It gives a soft coo before shaking and moving its foot, drawing attention to the letter in its grasp. His heart leaps to his throat in hope before he swallows and carefully takes it. 

He grins at the writing on the front of the envelope. “Sir Charmed, lover of chocolate chip cookies.” Instantly all his worries melt away as he plucks the letter from its hiding and he reads the words. Once. Twice. A Hundred times. Schlatt rushes inside to carefully compose his response. 

You don’t go a day without hearing from each other for the next couple of weeks. You exchange letters. You tell him about your life and how you got your love of baking, and your want of leaving the house. He tells you the pressures of his job and how sometimes he just wants to run away from it all and explore the world. You make him promise that if he does, he’ll take you with him. He promises. 

You forget to get his name and at this point you’re too embarrassed to ask him for it, instead electing to call him a bunch of nicknames, mainly being Sir Charming, hoping he never catches on. He never seems to. 

The two of you agree to meet up once more, somewhere a little more quiet than the market square, but still public (because you have to be proper.) You’re sure to wear the cutest outfit you can manage to put together and bake the best batches of cookies you’ve ever baked. 

“Where are you going?” Ted asks with his brow raised, watching Schlatt with his arms crossed as Schlatt sneaks through the castle halls. 

Schlatt freezes and slowly turns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Sureeeee,” Ted draws, not convinced at all. “You’re just creeping through the halls in one of your best outfits going… nowhere.” 

Schlatt sighs, not being able to hide from his best friend. “I’m going to meet them.” 

Ted raises an eyebrow. “Them? The one you’ve been writing all those letters to? Are you sure that’s a good idea” 

“I know that it is. Please. Cover for me?”

Ted sighs but can’t deny Schlatt has been happier in the past couple weeks than he has been for the past couple months. “Okay fine. But you’d better bring me back one of those sugar cookies.” 

Schlatt gives Ted a toothy grin. “We’ll see.” 

You give him a shy smile as he appears. “Hey, you,” you greet standing, wiping your hands on your pants. 

“Hey sweets,” he greets back, his voice muffled through the mask still adorned on his face. You didn’t mind too much. He explained that it made him more comfortable, especially because in his work he has to wear something to cover his face under the helmet, it’s just easier for him to wear it. As much as you want to see his entire face, you were willing to respect his choices. 

“How are you?” 

“Can’t complain, especially now that I get to see your beauty standing before me.” 

You can’t stop the blush that floods your cheeks. “Oh hush. Here. I’ve made you something special.” You tell him, turning and grabbing the special baked good that you made him. “It’s a chocolate chocolate-chip brookie. Or a double chocolate chip cookie baked inside a brownie. I remember you said that you loved brownies and cookies and sometimes can’t choose which to have so I made you both… well two in one.” 

You raise your hand with one of the treats toward him, facing the basket still, still trying to will down the blush on your cheeks.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” you have to hold in the jump as you feel his soft breath against your hand. You will yourself to stay in place as his lips brush against your outstretched fingers as he gently takes a bite out of the treat in your hand. A loud groan escapes him, similar to the one you heard the day the two of you met. “Okay, I take back everything I’ve said… This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

All of your hard work is ruined as the blood rushes back to your cheeks into a blush. “What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?” You deflect 

The treat is removed from your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “My apologies, your highness.” His words are even more mumbled, telling you he shoved the brookie all the way into his mouth. 

You scoff. “Careful now, you’ll get me hung for treason with that nickname.”

His laugh garbled out around the baked good. “Surely the king isn’t that cruel.” His hand rests on your shoulder and turns you to face him, the mask sitting on his face once again. 

You laugh back and shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve never met the man.” 

“Well I have. So I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.” 

“Is that so?... I guess I’ll just have to trust you then.” 

You stare into his brilliant and beautiful eyes for a while longer before he moves, clearing his throat and gesturing forward, “Shall we then?” 

“I am getting sick of these games you’re playing, Jonathan.” King Philza booms loudly. 

Schlatt rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not playing games with you father, I’ve told you. I want to marry for-”

“For love. I understand. But how can you marry for love when you push away every single option I give you. You haven’t given yourself a chance to fall in love with anyone I have brought before you and I am growing tired of it. If you do not pick someone within the next month, I will be choosing someone for you. End of story. Am I understood?”

Schlatt internally panics. He knew this day was coming. He knew he was pushing his father too far. He had held out for too long. His stomach drops… There’s only one person he could see himself marrying at this point… 

Assuming he had been understood, Philza turns to walk out the door. “Let’s throw a ball,” the words tumble from Schlatt’s lips. 

Phil turns back around with an eyebrow raised. “A ball?”

“You want me to marry quickly. I want to marry for love. So what better way than to throw a ball, invite everyone in the kingdom, emphasizing the invitations for single people, and then I’ll be able to talk and dance with people all night. And I swear to you, if we throw this ball I will find a betrothed by the end of the month.”

Phil is silent for a while. Tossing the words over in his head for a moment before giving a single nod. “So be it.” He then turns and exits the room. 

Schlatt lets out a harsh breath. Well that was easier than expected. Now to convince you to come to a ball. 

It takes less convincing than one might think. 

You get a letter from your Sir Charming, who tells you there will be a ball and that he wants you to come as his guest. He tells you that you’d be able to bring some of your baked goods to give out to nobles to promote your baking, plus you’d be able to see him. You hate to admit how much the latter of the two sold you on the idea. You sent back your acceptance of the invitation. 

The money you’ve gotten from selling your baked goods is supposed to go to a moving out fund, but you can’t help but take out a couple of the gold pieces that he gave you in the first meeting, finding it only fitting that his money buys your outfit for the ball

It’s a really pretty outfit, it fits you well enough, you had to buy it a size larger because they didn’t have your size and you didn’t have enough money to get it tailored. But it didn’t matter that much to you. Your mystery man had seen you in grubbier garment, anything would be a step up from what you met him in. 

The news of the ball gets announced to the entire kingdom, and your stepmother is perhaps more excited than you are. She thinks at least one of her daughters will win the heart of the prince. When you voice your want to go, she forbids you. You tell her that you don’t even want to be in the presence of the prince, you just want to see the snack table, she sneers at you but says nothing further, making you believe that perhaps she will allow you to go. 

You find yourself in your kitchen, finishing up some of the baked goods you were to take to the ball tonight. The loud clacking of your stepmother’s heels echo on the tile, the door swings open, your stepmother enters in a rage. Your heart stops as you look up from your desserts and see your outfit clutched in her hands. 

“What is this?” She hisses, waving the fabric at you as she gets closer. 

“My outfit for the ball,” you answer as calmly as you can, speaking around the lump in your throat. 

“Oh!” She lets out in mock surprise, “Is it now? I thought you said you were not going to be trying to win the attention of the prince.” 

You furrow your brow and remain standing straight with your shoulders squared back, “I am not. I have no intention of wooing the prince, stepmother.” 

“Then why have you chosen to wear such an attention seeking outfit? Surely you were planning on going behind my and my daughter’s back. I should have known you were going to do something like this.”

“Please, stepmother. You must believe me. I have no--” 

“I do not believe you, you little wench. You’ve always have looked for ways out of this house, to one up me and my daughters. I will stand for this no more.” 

You want so badly to lash out, to rip the outfit from her hands, go running from the room, and get dressed. But you can’t move. You can barely breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach turning, and your body locking up. You can only watch as your stepmother glides over to the stove. Her eyes glide over the stove top before smirking. She dunks the outfit into the melted chocolate you were going to use to cover some of the treats. 

To make matters worse, part of the cloth flops over the edge of the pan and lands directly on the open flame that was on to melt the chocolate. Your stepmother lets out a triumphant laugh as the outfit catches fire, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

The sound of the door closing behind her causes you to leap into action finally. You rip the outfit out of the pot and toss it in the sink, dousing it with water, extinguishing the flame. The chocolate clings to the fabric, refusing to let go easily as you put your entire being into scrubbing the outfit. 

Sobs begin falling from your lips as you realize, even if you get all of the chocolate out of this outfit, it will never dry in time for the ball. Plus. you don’t have fabric to sew up the part where the flame ate part of it. Your outfit is ruined. Your plans are ruined. The night is ruined. 

You barely register your stepmother calling for your stepsisters, telling them it was time to go, and the door opening and closing behind them. The world seems to spin around you, sinking you to your knees as you sob loudly, clutching the soaking web fabric to your chest. 

The cool tile welcomes you, the warmth of the oven soothes you, and the wetness of the outfit grounds you. The sobs turn into soft hiccups then to silent sniffles as you stare in front of you. Mentally you begin to write your apology letter to Sir Charming about your abscess from the ball. How you were going to go, you really were, you just didn’t have anything suitable to wear. 

He’ll probably ask you why you didn’t plan better. He’ll probably be angry. He may not want to speak to you again. You’ll just have to deal with it and beg for forgiveness. And if he decides not to forgive you…. You’ll just have to live with it. 

A soft knock echoes from the front door. You’re so in your own head, you’re not sure it’s a real sound, but then it comes again, a little louder this time. You muse it may be one of your steps who forgot something and didn’t think to bring a key. 

In a zombie-like fashion, you let the fabric drop from your hands before standing up slowly. It almost feels as if you’re floating as you move to the front door. Your hand somehow finds the doorknob, unlocking it, before turning it and opening it up. 

You startle slightly at the sight in front of you. A frail looking older man stands before you. He has grey hair, a hunchback, and a shawl that comes up and covers the top of his head and shoulders. “Oh… hello. Can I help you?” You ask softly, looking out past him wondering where he came from. Your house wasn’t necessarily in the middle of nowhere, but you definitely had your privacy from neighbors. You lived on the edge of the kingdom, no one ever really comes out here. 

“Hello there, deary.” His voice is kind and his lips turn upwards slightly. “I am sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I was just on my way home and my stomach let out an awful grumble and I was just wondering if you could spare a bite to eat? I won’t take much, I promise, just something to get me home.”

You don’t know what made you trust this stranger, maybe it was just your deep need to help those around you, maybe you were still in shock from what your stepmother had done minutes… an hour? You’re not sure. But you give him a smile. “Oh yes, of course. Please come in sir. Lucky for you, I was just making something sweet. So you can snack on that while I make you dinner.” 

You move out of the way and let the man enter your house. 

“Oh, please deary, no need to make me a whole meal.” 

“Nonsense,” you answer, guiding him into the kitchen, “I want to make sure you’re well fed for your journey home.” You hand him some of the cookies from the counter. “Here, make yourself at home.”

The man takes the cookie from your hands gently before sitting himself down at the counter. “You are far too kind… I wasn’t even sure anyone would be home. I heard the royal family is throwing a ball, and everyone is invited.” 

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips as you begin making dinner for this kind man. “Yes, well, my stepmother believed me unworthy to attend… went as far as to destroy my outfit…” you take a moment to look down at the outfit, still soaking at your feet. You snap yourself out of the stupor, “Sorry. Not to dump.” 

The man hums as he takes a bite of the cookie. “I see…. Oh this is delicious. You should run a bakery.” He exclaims. 

A shy smile plays on your lips as you plate his food. “That’s the goal…One day. Thank you… Anyway, dinner is served!” You place the plate in front of him, your smile growing. 

The man instantly digs in and hums in delight at the taste. The two of you converse as he eats, he talks about his life and you give him more insight into yours. Telling him of how you got your love of baking and your hopes of owning a bakery, but not working for the baker in the village. 

Soon, he’s down to his last bite of dinner. He pops it in his mouth before leaning back into his chair. “Wow, that hit the spot. Thank you again deary, for dinner and the delightful conversation…” 

You give him a smile, “Of course, it’s my pleasure… I just realized I never got your name.” 

“You can call me Quackity…AKA” 

Suddenly golden light surrounds the man in front of you, forcing a gasp out of your lips. “What’s going on?” You exclaim as the light draws closer to the man, glowing brighter. 

Through squinted eyes, you watch the wrinkles fall from the man’s face. It’s as if an ink pot spills from the shawl the rests on his head, his hair turning black. The fabric morphs into a dark grey beanie that remains covering the top part of his hair. His spine straightens, his outfit morphing into a sharp tuxedo with golden wings protruding from his back. His piercing eyes, suddenly getting covered by black sunglasses. 

The golden motes of light fade from existence, the old man no longer in front of you, a young man now sitting before you. 

“Your fairy godmother…father…papi? Ah who knows.” 

You stare wide-eyed, mouth agape at the man that now sits in front of you. “What the fuck?” You whisper. “Who are you?”

The young man tilts his head and gives a playful grin. “I just told you, silly. I’m your fairy god-Papi. You can also call me Quackity. But I’ve watched over you, and I had to make sure you were still a good person. We don’t have time for the full backstory, we have a ball to get you too, dulces.” 

You stare at him, your mouth moving like a fish out of water. “What are you talking about? I can’t go to the ball, my outfit is ruined, I don’t have a way to get there. I can’t… Don’t you have to get home?” 

Quackity laughs causing you to pout to play on your lips. Quackity notices, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, you’re just too sweet. I know you think we just met, but you have to trust me. You’ve already let me in your home, you may as well trust me to do this as well.” 

You puff up your cheeks with air as you toss your thoughts back and forth, debating his words. Maybe you’re asleep. Maybe you crashed and fell asleep on the kitchen floor and this is all just a dream. At this point, that would make the most sense. You pinch the skin on your thigh, flinching but looking around. When nothing around you changes, you’re forced to take this situation as reality. Incredibly weird, fucked up reality. 

You meet Quackity’s bright eyes again, his kind smile never fading. “Okay.” You speak softly, letting your shoulders relax. “I trust you.” 

His grin grows bigger and he claps his hands once in delight, holding them in front of his chest for a brief moment, looking you over excitedly. “I knew I chose you for a reason. Let’s get this done then, shall we?” 

Quackity claps twice and the golden light fills your vision again, this time though, they’re surrounding you. Your clothes shift and change, the fabric changes and gets tighter to your body. Your hair moves around on its own, which feels weird at first, but then you realize that it feels like someone is doing your hair and you think back to your mother and father doing your hair when you were little. You feel the flour and the sugar fall from your face and your fingertips as the light cleans you up. 

Your gaze moves down to your feet and your breath catches at the shoes you now adorn. They’re breathtaking, literally apparently. They’re made of glass, the majority of the shoe being see through, but a gorgeous pattern of color, as if spun sugar swirled throughout. They’re insanely comfortable too. You’d think that shoes made of glass would be uncomfortable, but they’re not. They’re perhaps the most comfortable shoes you’ve ever worn. 

Soon, the light fades and you turn to find Quackity holding a mirror. The outfit is beautiful and truly made for a ball. It’s actually your size and fits you well in all of the right places. Your hair is beautiful as well, pulled back to show your face, but is done up in an intricate way. Your face, as you felt, is clear of the evidence of your baking. 

“I look good,” you whisper, turning slightly, examining yourself from different angles. 

“I know, I did well, didn’t I?” Quackity boasts, the feathers of his wings ruffling at the slight praise. 

You look from the mirror to catch his gaze. “You did. But I still don’t have a way there, I don’t want to walk.” 

Quackity shakes their head. “Oh yee of little faith. Grab those boxes of treats and follow me.” 

You whip around and find all of the baked goods you were working on packed neatly in your boxes. The magic must have moved them while you were getting dolled up. You blinked away the happy tears and scooped up the boxes and scurried out the door after Quackity. 

You stand back and watch as Quackity waves his hands around, the golden magic illuminating the dark night. It swirls around a pumpkin in your garden you were planning on using for a pie when it got ripe, making it grow larger and larger, changing from a thick orange pumpkin skin to a brilliant white carriage with golden details. 

The sheep that wanders your small farm gets surrounded by the light and is transformed into a beautiful woman who bends at the waist in front of you. “My lady,” she speaks. You curtsy back at her, giggling. You can’t believe this is real. 

Two field mice get transformed into a carriage driver and their assistant. Your carrier pigeon you’ve been using gets enlarged into a giant pigeon which the driver and assistant immediately move to get the pigeon hooked up to the carriage. Quackity moves over to stand by you, grinning as the golden light fades away as everything comes to order. “Ta da!” He says, holding his hands out and wiggling his fingers towards to new carriage and humans there to take you to the ball.

You can’t stop yourself from turning to him and throwing your arms around him, pulling him closely to you. He lets out a soft “oof” but wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you so much… fairy god….papi.” 

Quackity barks out a laugh but squeezes you tighter. “Of course, dulces. Now, this magic doesn’t come without a downside.” He says, pulling away and looking you in the eye. “Nothing too bad, but the magic will fade at midnight. The carriage will go back to a pumpkin, the footman back to mice and your sheep lady to a sheep. Your outfit will fade. It will all end at midnight. So, go, have fun at the ball, eat, drink, make friends, do it all. But when that clock strikes midnight, run like hell little lady.” 

You give him a short nod. “I understand… thank you. Will I ever see you again?” 

Quackity smiles softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I’ll never be far away from you, dulces.” 

You know that means probably not, buy you decide to ignore it as you give him another hug. 

He hugs you back before  pulling away again. “Enough sap, you have a ball to go to. Go on! Get!” He pushes you toward the open door of the carriage. You giggle, gather the boxes of baked goods you had set down, and move to the carriage. 

Puffy, the lady in waiting, climbs in the carriage after you, closing the door behind her, before hitting the top of the carriage, causing the driver to give a shout and the carriage rocks forward. 

You glance out the window toward the house and find Quackity watching the carriage leave, his hands pressed to his chest. You bring your hand up and give a small wave. Quackity raises his hand and waves after you, until you cannot see him any longer. 

Schlatt was going a little crazy. It was as if the entire kingdom had shown up. Everyone was here. Everyone but you. You had promised that you would come in the letter that you sent a week ago, but maybe you had changed your mind. He hopes you hadn’t though. Afterall, he swore to his father he would be betrothed by the end of this night. 

He had met countless single village people, all trying to bat their eyes hard enough to make him take a second glance, but none of them were you. He found himself slumping down in his throne, brushing off the glare his father threw over his shoulder. Pretending not to hear the, “This is what you wanted. At least act like you want to be here.” He hissed over. Schlatt just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

It becomes apparent he has met everyone here tonight and still no sign of you. Until there’s a large commotion by the snack table. His gaze shoots over and his heart picks up at the sight. It’s you. You look so different from the other times he’s seen you, but it is you. He’s on his feet in an instant and rushing over. 

You arrive later than everyone else at the ball, but honestly you’re totally okay with that. Less attention to yourself. You give a small bow to your servants for the evening, giving your carrier pigeon a few scritches before ducking into the castle. You hope you’ll be able to find your Sir Charming quickly so you can stick to him for the entire night. You decide you’ll first hit up the snack table to set up your baked goods and sign for the other nobles to taste just like Sir Charming said to do. 

You find the table is already packed with baked goods from the bakery. You take it upon yourself to begin moving some of the treats over to make room for your treats. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice booms from behind you. 

You roll your eyes at the voice but turn around and face the baker, Mr. Lou Hamani. “I was invited to display my baked goods at this ball. So I’m simply making room.” You answer before turning back around and putting more desserts out. 

Lou moves to stand beside you at the table and begins to grab at your treats. “I think not you disrespectful child. I am being paid by the king’s advisor himself for these desserts. I will not have you screwing over my chance to impress the nobles that are here today at this ball. You will pack up and leave at once.” 

“I will do no such thing, I was invited to set up shop here by a castle staff member and I intend to do so.” You huff. Lou pays your words no mind and continues to gather up the things you’ve baked in his arms. “Hey, put those down. Give those back.” If he hears you he pretends like he doesn’t and cotiunes what he’s doing. It’s then you begin to try and grab your treats out of his hands. 

The baker snaps at you, “get your hands off of me.” 

“Give me my things back!” 

You’re so invested in what is going on in front of you that you don’t realize that the entire ballroom’s eyes are on you. 

In the middle of your squabble, someone loudly clears their throat. You then realize you’re in public and everyone can see you. You decide to still not care and face it with confidence. The baker looks over his shoulder and seems to pale at the sight. Your brow slightly furrows and you turn around. 

Deep pools of chestnut brown lock with yours and they’re just as fucking beautiful as the day you first met them. They fill you with a sense of calm, but at the same time nerves as butterflies fill your stomach. You think you will never tire of looking him in the eyes. 

You find your eyes drifting down and you feel your stomach lurch and your heart stop. You’re seeing his face uncovered for the first time. He’s so fucking handsome… 

So fucking handsome with those god fucking damn mutton chops. 

“Your highness,” you hear the baker greet shakily from behind you. 

Your thoughts are confirmed. The man you met that day in the market, the one you’ve been sending letters to, the one you met once more, the one you’ve been slowly developing feelings for. Is Prince fucking Schlatt himself. Of fucking course he never told you his name. Of fucking course he never showed his face. It’s been him this whole time. 

Oh fuck. 

You’ve shit talked about him to his fucking face. 

You’re fucked. 

Gods. You look beautiful. He didn’t know anyone could ever look this good. He’s so fucking happy you came. 

His eyes meet yours and he can tell you’re in shock. He was a bit surprised you figured it out, that your Sir Charming was actually the prince. The other part of him feels fuzzy that you can recognize him just from his eyes. He can only hope that you forgive him for lying to you. 

“Mr. Hamani,” He greets easily, his eyes not leaving yours. He’s trying to decipher what it is you’re thinking, but your shocked expression masks any else you may be thinking. “Would you kindly unhand my favorite baked goods from my favorite baker? You’ll have to forgive me sir, while I find your treats delicious, I find theirs simply irresistible. I invited them and told them to set up shop here. I apologize that no one informed you in advance.” 

The baker stutters but gives a quick bow. “Of course, your highness. No need to apologize to me. I was simply surprised at their appearance is all. They have always been rather disruptive and I wanted to ensure it wasn’t something of that sort happening again… I apologize, your highness.” 

Schlatt gives a simple wave of his hand. “Forgiven.” He speaks. 

The baker dumps the treats from his hands back on \to the table and scurries away. Schlatt strides over and snatches up a double chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, moaning at the taste, before turning to face you. He gives a shy smile. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello,” he states softly as if nerves have invaded his entire stomach. As if he has a right to be nervous after the shit he let you get away with. 

“Hello,” You answer tensely. 

The two of you stand there, staring at each other for a moment. You haven’t even noticed that the entire ballroom is still at a standstill, staring. 

You’re the first to move. You charge forward at him, your finger rising in the air, pointing directly at him. “You. I can’t believe that you-” 

Prince Schlatt grabs your hand out of the air, bows, and brings the back of your hand up to his lips. The feeling of his soft lips on your hand sets the flesh there ablaze. You feel your face flush with searing heat along with the heat that floods your entire body. He mutters your name softly, lips still pressed to your hand, sending butterflies soaring in your stomach. 

“Prince Schlatt.” You utter, curtsying slightly. 

He stands back up to his full height and gives you a soft, lopsided grin. “May I have this dance?” 

All of the heated words you wanted to sling his way die on your tongue. You can’t help but wonder if this is all a prank. Like if you accept, he is going to laugh in your face and you’re going to be tossed in the dungeon. 

But then you meet his eyes. 

Those damn fucking eyes. 

They tell you so much, you’re surprised they didn’t tell you who you had been speaking to this entire time. 

They tell you to trust him. That he truly means what he is saying. That he wants nothing more than for you to say yes, because he wants to dance with you. Truly, deeply, wants to dance with you.

Hope. 

His eyes fill with hope. 

And how can you say no to hope. 

“You may.” 

Schlatt is probably the happiest he’s ever been when you accept his offer to dance. His grin widens significantly before he leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He bows to you and you curtsy. The band strikes up a beautiful waltz song and the two of you begin to dance. 

He notices that you’re working hard to follow his moves. It dawns on him that you are indeed a commoner and so you don’t have the dance training drilled into you as he has. He slows his pace down and smiles brightly as your shoulders sag in relief as you catch up with him. 

“Sorry,” you mumble for a third time as you step on his toes once more. 

“Please stop apologizing. I do not mind. Truly…” 

He stares at you beaming, trying to make you see the truth. You seem to only slightly believe him. He clears his throat and pauses for a moment. “Here, step on my feet. I’ll move us around the ballroom.” 

He smiles through you raising your eyebrows as if to ask if he was serious. He nods encouragingly. 

You realize that he’s not going to move again until you comply. So you do. You carefully step both of your feet onto his, praying the glass shoes are as comfortable on top of his feet as they are on yours. If they’re not, he makes no show of it. His smirk grows impossibly wide and begins to move around once more. 

The rest of the room fades away. He can see no others in the ballroom. His gaze is focused on you and you alone. He whispers jokes to you and feels his heart warm when you toss your head back in laughter. 

With you, he’s not the prince. 

He’s just Schlatt. 

He couldn’t be more thankful for you.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as Prince Schlatt dances you across the room. Your father always told you not paying attention to your mother’s dance lessons would come back to bite you. You never thought you’d see the day that would come to fruition. 

But he moved you around with such ease that it made you feel as if you were floating. It didn’t matter you didn’t know how to dance, he was there. He was helping you through. He was there for you. 

Your mind takes that thought and runs with it. 

You think back to you waiting everyday eagerly for his letters to arrive. The way you blossomed under his praise, both of you and your baking. Ever since the moment you met him, he always was there to catch you. You can’t think of a single moment in the past couple months where your mind wasn’t filled with the thoughts of him. 

He has always been there. 

The music ends and the two of you bow to each other. A round of applause startles the two of you out of your bubble. You look around and find several other couples had joined you on the dance floor, but most people had stayed pressed on the sidelines, watching the dances. Those are the ones that were now applauding. Your face flushes once more and you duck your head down as you step off of Prince Schaltt’s feet and away from him. 

If the prince notices you trying to put distance between the two of you, he doesn’t make it known. He instead grabs your hand once more, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Come on, I must introduce you.” He states simply before moving towards the front of the room where his family sat. 

Your heart leaps to your throat, eyes widening as the royal family draws nearer and nearer. Somewhere in your brain had registered that if your Sir Charming was the Prince Schlatt, then his father would then be King Philza. But that didn’t actually click until now. 

Until the King, Queen, and other Prince were rising to meet you. 

“Father, Mother… brother,” Schlatt greets with a wide smile giving them a bow. “It is my honor to introduce you to my guest of honor for the evening.” You can barely believe it’s your name that then falls from his lips. 

Through the fog in your head, you thank yourself for remembering to give a deep bow to the royal family of the land. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me… everyone into your home. Everything about this ball is beautiful and perfect.” You give yourself a pat on the back for sliding in that compliment. 

“Everything except the pastries from the local baker it seems.” King Philza’s tone is so deep and regal it’s incredibly hard to register the joking tone. 

You swallow hard. “Forgive me, your highness. Mr. Hamani and I have never gotten along. I should not have brought our feud inside your home.” 

King Philza gives a dismissive wave. 

“It’s quite alright, dear.” Queen Kristen speaks up, her tone soft and gentle. “Sometimes men allow their egos to get in the way.” 

You can’t help but giggle along with her and nod along. 

“Dear!” King Philza lets out in a slight aghast tone. 

“Oh do not tell me I am wrong, my love. You should know this better than anyone.” 

The King does not have a response back for that. He instead turns back around and catches your eye. His gaze is so piercing you cannot help but look down at your feet. “We will not keep you any longer. Please, enjoy the ball.” 

“But I haven’t had a chance to talk with them yet!” Prince Tommy whines, stepping forward to stand with his father. 

The King rests a hand on his back and opens his mouth to speak but Prince Schaltt cuts him off. “Nor will you ever. We are off to enjoy the ball now. Farewell.” 

Before anyone in his family can get a word in, Prince Schlatt pulls you away. He beelines to the snack table, the people around it parting to allow him access to the table. Almost all of your baked goods are gone, stuffed in the hands of the attendees, all wanting to see just what made Prince Schlatt deny the local baker. 

Schlatt snaggs two of the double chocolate chip cookies and one of the brookies from the table and continues on his way, still pulling you away. Instead of stopping somewhere in the grand ballroom, he pulls you completely out of the castle and into the royal gardens. 

He stops in front of a bench in front of a fountain. He takes a seat and pats the bench next to him, silently inviting you to sit down. 

You do not sit down.

Instead, you take a couple paces back and forth in front of him, before you turn on your heel to face him. “I cannot fucking believe you!” You finally let out all of your nerves and frustrations into the sentence. 

Prince Schlatt startles slightly, coughing as a crumb of his cookies go down the wrong pipe. He clears his throat and goes to speak up but you don’t give him the chance. 

“You fucking asshole. You let me talk shit about your father… about you to your face the first time we met. Let me talk about your mutton chops. Never stopping to correct me or let me know who you were. You let me call you Sir Charming, never once stopping to tell me your name. How did I let this go this far? You let me write you letters everyday and you wrote me back! You told me so much about you and your life, but didn’t tell me this? This seems pretty fucking big, your highness. Oh my fucking gods. Oh my gods. I can’t fucking believe you. Holy fucking shit. You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

You can’t stop your hand from coming up and slapping his shoulder, pushing him back, not hard enough to push him off but hard enough to prove a point. 

He says nothing for a few moments, letting you breathe through it and calm down, before a grin splits his face. “Yeah. But it was hot. I liked being put in my place during our first meeting. It was interesting to hear your perspective. Someone talking to a complete stranger, not trying to kiss my ass and make me feel good about myself… though with the way you were talking about my chops, maybe you did just a bit of the latter anyway.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as the heat floods your cheeks. “Fuck you.” 

He reaches out and cups your cheek, bringing you down a bit to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah.” 

You take a few more deep breaths before allowing yourself to plop down beside him. You rest your head against his shoulder, forgetting your properness for a moment, taking another deep breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.” You mutter one final time. 

Schlatt turns and presses a kid to the top of your head before resting his head on the top of your head. He lets the silence sit for a while before he clears his throat and speaks again. “I am sorry, by the way.” 

You don’t speak, which he’s partially grateful for, it allows him to process his thoughts further. But on the other hand, he can’t see your face so he can’t tell if the silence is back. 

“I am sorry for not telling you. For lying about who I am… I… You didn’t know me and yet I wanted to know you…but I knew I wouldn’t get that chance if I was honest about who I was. You had a preconceived notion about who I am and I wanted a chance to show you that’s not all of who I am… I didn’t mean for the lie to go on this long. And I do feel back for lying. And I really am sorry.” 

Your silence kills him. His heart hammers in his chest. But then he feels you turn and nervously press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you.” The three words are the sweetest he’s ever fall from the lips of another. “I get it. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you, Prince Schlatt.” 

“Jonathon.” 

The name escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Hmm?” You hum, pull your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye, your brows furrowed. 

His eyes meet your and his heart pounds quickly in his chest. His stomach turning over and over again, churning with nerves. “Jonathon. My name is Jonathon. Call me Jonathon.” 

“Jonathon.” You echo. 

Schlatt takes back his previous thoughts. Several people have called him his given name before. But this? Now? When it falls from your lips? It is certainly the sweetest it has ever sounded. 

He gives a small nod with a shy smile. 

“I forgive you, Jonathon.” 

He could pass away right then and there. 

“I’m sorry I had to step on your feet so you could dance me around the ballroom.” 

“I forgive you… would you like me to teach you how to dance?”

“Would you?” 

“I would. I wouldn’t offer if I wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to dance in front of everyone.”

“Who said anything about going back to the ballroom. We can dance right here.” 

Schlatt leads you through several steps very slowly, picking up the pace only after he was sure you were comfortable with the steps. 

Soon enough you were dancing like a pro. So much so that you could focus on the conversation between the two of you rather than the steps you were taking. 

The two of you talked and danced privately in the gardens all night. You offered several times to go back to the ballroom, the man throwing the ball should at least be in there for longer than a couple moments. He ignored that and said he would rather spend time with the one he threw it for. You can’t help but blush at that. 

You’re having such a fun time that you almost forget about the magic’s stipulation. Almost. 

 Jonathon spins you around once more, and pulls you in close to his chest. When you look up at him, you see he’s suddenly a lot closer than you realized. “Oh!” you let out softly. “Sorry,” you apologize, going to move away. 

Jonathon’s hold on you tightens, keeping you in place. “No need to be sorry… I like having you close,” he whispers. Your eyes stray down to his lips as he speaks. They look so soft… so plush… so kissable. 

“I like being close to you,” the confession uttered before you can stop it. 

The corners of his lips up turn in a small smile. The two of you stand there, frozen in time for a moment before he begins to lean in. You move to meet him. Your lips are about to meet when the grandfather clock that sits across the garden echoes out a loud chime. 

It causes you to jump and turn to look at it. 

It’s midnight. 

“Oh fuck.” You let out. “Is that clock accurate?” You ask, pulling yourself from Jonathan’s arms. 

He frowns, brows furrowing slightly, following your gaze. “Oh that old thing? Uhhh, just about. It’s 15 minutes fast. Why?” 

You ignore his question and begin to move back toward the inside of the castle. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. I have to go.” 

“Wait,” He calls after you, calling your name. “Slow down. Come back. Please. You don’t have to leave.” 

“You don’t understand,” You call back, picking up your pace. “I do.” 

Without paying attention, you burst back into the ballroom. Several eyes falling on you, eyebrows raised. You pay no mind still and run, trying to push your way past everyone in the room, but people keep coming up to you to talk to you. 

A hand on your wrist spins you around and you lock eyes with those beautiful chestnuts you’ve grown so fond of. His eyes scream worry and panic, silently begging you to stop running. 

You yourself must look panicked and frantic in a different way. Like a wild animal that has been caged and is about to start lashing out. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Help me.” 

The grip on your wrist loosens. Schlatt may not understand, but he will always do everything he can in order to be the person you need at any given moment. 

“Everyone!” He calls out loudly, moving towards the refreshment table. “Please come over here and join me in a toast to celebrate this evening.” 

The crowd instantly leaves you, allowing you a path to exit the room and then the castle. You’ve never been happier to see the grass as you are now. 

“Stop! Wait! Halt in the name of the Prince!” You turn slightly and look over your shoulder and find a knight with fluffy brown hair and square glasses chasing after you. In the moment, you recognize him as Charlie, one of Schlatt’s best friends/knights. 

“Oh fuck!” You shout. The magic was starting to fade already, you can tell, because all of the sudden it was hard to run in your glass shoes. You bend down and kick them both into your awaiting hands. You turn for a sharp moment, throwing one of your shoes at the knight. He lets out a loud startled scream, stopping for just long enough for you to run to your carriage. 

“Go! Go! Go!” You shout at your footmen and lady. They waste no time before kicking up and bolting out and away from the palace. You look out the window and find Charlie has stopped chasing you, one hand on his hip, the other holding your glass shoe up to the light in an inspection. 

You slump back in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. 

“That was way too close.” 

After getting all of his guests to make a toast, Schlatt books it out of the ballroom. He races to the front lawn. His head whips back and forth, peering down the road to try and see any sign of a moving carriage. 

Footsteps sound from either side of him. His head turns and he meets the eyes of Ted who gives a pitying look and a shake of his head. Schlatt looks to the other side and meets Charlie’s eyes who also shakes his head. His eyes drift down to Charlie’s hands, and there was the shoe. Your beautiful glass shoe. 

Schlatt slowly reaches out and carefully takes the shoe from his friend’s grasp and clutches it to his chest. He turns his eyes back down the main road, staring off letting out a soft sigh. Hands clasp on both of his shoulders in a silent comfort. 

The magic faded when you were nearly home. You had to herd a sheep, two mice, and your carrier pigeon back home all while carrying your big ass pumpkin in slightly damp clothes barefoot as you had thrown your one shoe and taken off the other. Your shoe though did not fade with the magic, you weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad. By the time you made it back, you were exhausted. You quickly put everything back where it was supposed to go, taking a quick shower, tucking the shoe under your bed, and collapsing in your room. 

You’re not sure how long you were asleep for before the door to your room slammed open. It startles you awake from your deep sleep. You look up and in a silhouette from the hallway light, is your stepmother. Your heart leaps to your throat, trying to take deep breaths in through your nose trying to calm down. 

“Stepmother,” you greet groggily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You insolent child.” She hisses. “I thought I made myself very clear. You were not to go to the ball. And what do you do, but steal the prince away for the whole evening?” 

“I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother.” 

She shoots a sharp glare at you. “You know exactly what I speak of… No matter. With the way you went running from the ball I’m sure the prince realized his mistake. Choosing you to dance and spend time with. With the way he let you go, I’m sure it’s that he realized you are not and will never be good enough for him. You? A low life orphan baker? Royalty? Never.” 

Her words sting like the venom they are. But you can’t help but realize she’s right. No matter what you do, you’ll always be an orphan that so happens to be good at baking. You would be an awful royal. 

Maybe that’s why he chose to help you escape rather than continue to chase after you. 

Maybe he realized it too. 

You will the tears to not fall as you stick your chin out a little further. “I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get some more sleep.” 

She is a touch surprised at your instance, certain that her words would break you. She gives you another glare, but grabs the doorknob and slams the door to your bedroom. 

You flop back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears pool in your ear canal. You bring your hands up and wipe them away, rolling onto your side and clutching at one of your pillows. 

You had to end it… whatever it was. 

The clock on his wall warns him it’s 3 am, but Schlatt ignores it in favor of pacing back and forth in front of a table where the shoe was perched. Every so often he paused to look over the shoe before pacing again. 

“Why did you run?” He asks the shoe, staring at it as if it will give a response. “Where did you go… why did you throw this shoe at Charlie’s head?” A small smile breaks on his face as he pictures the scene Charlie described to him three hours ago. “I would have given anything to see it… to be there myself… to stop you myself.” 

He stands still for a moment longer before pacing again. 

“Maybe… maybe you found it all to be too much…” He speaks, slowing down his steps. “It all caught up to you… didn’t it. It all sank in. You realized truly who I was and you had to get out… You… you don’t want me.” 

He stops again, plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I suppose I can’t fault you… But I deeply wish you hadn’t run.” He flops backwards and stares up at the ceiling. 

It was going to end… whatever it was. 

Schlatt didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he wakes up. He spends a good amount of time staring up at the ceiling. Every knock on the door gets a “go away” as he lays in bed wallowing in his own self pity. The knocks stop for a couple hours. But then they’re back again. 

Schlatt startles out of his thought spiral and this knock on the door, this one louder than all the others. He groans at the sound, rolling over on his side and tugging a pillow over his head, blocking out most of the noise. “Go away,” He calls out, tucking himself into his bed further. 

The silence makes him believe whoever was outside listened to him. That is until the door opens and shuts behind him. He groans from the back of his throat, rolling himself over and sitting up. “I said, go away-- father-” He interrupts himself as his eyes meet his father’s green ones. 

Philza raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turn up slightly at his son’s behavior. “Good day to you too, Jonathan.” 

“Good day, dad.” Schlatt mumbles, sitting himself up properly. Schlatt moves his feet up slightly to make room for Philza as he moves and sits down on the end of Schlatt’s bed. 

Philza’s hand smooths over the blankets as he gives a glance around the room. His eyes catch on the shoe, still propped up on the table. “They gave you their shoe?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. 

Schlatt huffs a laugh. “More like, threw it at Charlie’s head.” 

Philza doesn’t hold back and lets the laugh escape his lips. “Oh I knew I liked them. You picked well son. An excellent love match.” 

Schlatt sighs and turns to lay on his side, back facing his dad. “Apparently not. She ran away. I assume because she couldn’t handle me… who I really am. I don’t blame her after all the time I spent lying to her.” 

Phil furrows his brow and questions what Schlatt means by that. With nothing left to hide, Schlatt divulges the entire relationship. How they met and met again (which Phil was not happy about but decided now was not the time to bring it up) and how they sent letters to each other nearly everyday and how he knew they didn’t know his name but never told them his name or who he really is. How he had thrown the ball hoping they’d come and they did and how it has all been for them but it’s all been for nother. 

Phil nods along, listening carefully. He lets Schlatt take deep breaths after his rant. “I knew something was up.” Schlatt meets his eyes, curious but does not speak. “You’ve been so much happier in these past few weeks than I can remember… And you were so insistent on a love match. Deep down I knew… So my only question is why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

“Didn’t you hear me, dad? They don’t want me. They ran away.” 

“Did they tell you they didn’t want you? Look you in the eyes and say ‘Prince Schlatt I do not want you?’”

“No but--”

“No buts, son. I haven’t seen you this happy in years. I know that you’re in love with them, whether you realize it or not. I know because you look at them the same way I look at your mother. And they wouldn’t have spent the whole night with you if they didn’t love you too. They wouldn’t have given you a clue telling you to come get them if they didn’t.” Philza motions to the shoe. “So again, I ask you. Why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

The words resonate with Schlatt, filling him with hope, that maybe, just maybe you love him like he loves you… damn. Yeah. He loves you. 

“You’re right… I have to go dad, I have to…” Schlatt shoots up out of bed and digs through his closet and throws on a random outfit. “I have to get Ted and Charlie and a whole group and we have to go looking. Door to door. I have to find them. I am going to find them.” He runs a hand through his hair before whipping around to face his father with a grin. He rushes forward and presses a kiss on his father’s cheek. “Thanks, dad.” 

You sat staring at the blank piece of paper in front of you. What to say to the man that makes you feel everything. You twirl your pen in between your fingers a couple times. Letting out a sigh, you lean back for a moment, looking out the window. Your attention gets caught by the pigeon beside you who lets out a coo. You sigh again, reaching out and giving the bird scritches. “Hey there,” you murmur. The bird leans into your fingers, rubbing against you more. “Yeah… I know this letter won’t write itself.” The bird cocks its head and coos. “Yeah, just one more letter… a goodbye. I know you must be excited, you won’t have to carry my messages anymore.” Another coo. “Well, of course I’ll let you fly around outside. I’m not a monster.” It blinks at you. “Well I have to tell him something! I can’t just stop speaking to him. I need him to know… It’s quite literally not him. It’s me. I’ll never deserve him… no matter how much I care… for him.” The bird lets out a sharp and short coo. “Fucking hell. You’re right. I love him. Gods damn it I love him so much. Oh this is going to be a nightmare.” 

Schlatt sighs in frustration as he and his knights trudge to the castle. They’ve knocked on every single door in the kingdom and not a single one did you stand behind it. The sun was setting the knights stomachs were grumbling so Schlatt decided to call it a day and head back to the castle, determined to start again tomorrow. 

He picks at his dinner, tossing and turning it over with his fork, giving half hearted replies to questions that he’s really not paying attention to. He can’t help but replay every interaction he’s had with you over again, followed closely by several notable interactions he had throughout the day. One where the woman had caked her face in flour hoping to prove herself to be the baker. Another that when she answered the door said “I am not interested!” with a smug smile, as if she really did something, and then slammed the door in his face. As if he would be interested in her? He very clearly was looking for someone. 

His head is heavy with everyone he’s seen and spoken to today, he’s just ready to turn in for the night. 

And then he hears it. 

That beautiful coo he’s grown accustomed to listening for every day. The tell tale sign that you have sent him a letter. It’s Bob. Your carrier pigeon. 

And he has a letter attached to his leg. 

Schlatts posture instantly straightens and he holds out his finger, letting out a soft coo of his own. Everyone turned in confusion and watched Schlatt. Ted was about to speak before Bob landed on his fingers and stuck out his leg. Schlatt carefully took the rolled paper and fed the pigeon a couple nuts

Schlatt carefully unrolled the letter and began to read. 

My dearest, Prince Charming, 

I guess now that I know who you truly are it is only correct that I change the sir in your title to Prince. My prince… I had the most magical time last evening with you. Dancing around in your private garden is certainly something I will never forget and will always be grateful for. It was so incredibly sweet of you to give me your undivided attention. 

It unfortunately has come to my own attention that I am not good for you. I do not deserve you my sweet prince. I could never be someone that you deserve. I am a simple orphan that happens to be good at baking. No matter how hard I would try, you would always be way out of my league. 

I hope you find the love match that you seek. I hope you find someone good and kind, with a loving heart that will deserve you and be someone worthy of your love and care. Someone worthy of you throwing an entire ball for them. I don’t know how I ever thought I could be that person. I am so sorry…

I love you, Jonathon. 

But you deserve so much more than me. 

Yours, 

Your name is signed at the bottom of the letter as it always is. He reads the second to last line, once, twice, a thousand times, until he’s convinced himself that it’s real. That you really wrote that you love him. He didn’t care about the other stuff that you wrote. Well he kind of did. But he knew it was bullshit. If anything it’s him who doesn’t deserve you. 

If only he could find you to tell you this….

And then it hits him. 

He springs up from the table and rushes out, startling everyone in the dining room with him. The pigeon flaps its wings and lands on his shoulder, used to being carted around. Schlatt runs to his room where he grabs a pen and paper of his own. He scribbles “I love you,” before snatching the shoe off the table and rushing outside. Ted and Charlie rush out behind him, confused at the rush. 

“Schlatt, what are we doing?” They ask. 

Schlatt elects to ignore them as he hands Bob the messily rolled piece of paper. “Here, Bob. Show me the way to them.” Bob takes the paper, coos softly, and takes off. 

Schlatt instantly begins to race after the bird, Ted and Charlie following close behind. How relieved he was to finally find a way to find you. Bob would certainly lead him to you. He could only hope he could keep up with the bird. 

Schlatt was feeling winded by the time he reached the small house on the edge that borders the kingdom and the forest. He hadn’t thought to make his way all the way out here, thinking you lived closer to the village with the way you walked to the market. Obviously he had been wrong. 

Either way, he could only pray that Bob had led him to the right place. 

He couldn’t tell if the tightness in his chest and the shortness of breath was just from him running all this way or if it was his nerves. He decided to call it ‘a bit of column a and a little of column b’ and call it a night. 

The three approached the door, each taking deep breaths calming themselves from the journey taken to get here. Schlatt looks over his shoulder apprehensively at Ted and Charlie. He had knocked on over a hundred doors today, it didn’t make sense that this was the one he got nervous on. 

His best friends each gave him an easy smile and a kind and encouraging nod, eager for the prince to knock. Schlatt turned back to the door, letting out a breath, shaking his arms out, before reaching up and giving a sturdy knock. 

It’s silent on the other side of the door for a long moment. Schlatt’s heart pounds so hard in his chest he has to swallow hard to get it back down to his chest. The door know turns quickly and the door is pulled open and an older woman stands before him. He tries to not let his disappointment show, especially as surprise and utter delight paints her face. 

The woman drops to a quick curtsy. “Your highness,” she greets. Her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard and it takes everything Schlatt has to not visibly recoil. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

A small bout of hope flutters down his spine causing Schlatt to stand straighter at the word “we.” “I am not sure if you have heard, but have been searching the entire kingdom for the one I danced with last night. Do you have any children, my lady?” 

The woman brightens up even more and squares her shoulders back. “As a matter of fact I do. I have two.” The woman turns and cups her mouth. “GIRLS,” She hollers, causing the boys to shutter at the loud call. 

Footsteps race across the wooden floor and two younger women appear. Schlatt feels a huge wave of disappointment was over his being as he looks at their faces and realizes they’re not you. He doesn’t hide his distaste as the girls push each other, trying to stand straighter and puff out their chest larger than the other.

“Neither of these young women are who I am looking forward… Does anyone else live here? A servant or a stable hand? Perhaps a cook?” Schlatt asks, taking a single step forward, looking around the room hoping for some kind of sign of you. 

The woman’s face sours at the question before her mask gets put back in it’s place. “No one else, your highness. Although I can assure you, my daughters are perfectly suitable--” 

“What’s that?” Schlatt interrupts as a noise sounds from one of the adjacent rooms. It sounded like metal being set down on a counter. “I thought you said no one else lived here.” 

The woman swallows harshly and moves to stand in front of the door. “That… that is just the cook your highness, they do not live here… or at least soon will not,” she mutters the latter part with venom before turning back to Schlatt, a perfect smile posing on her lips. “No one to concern yourself with, truly.” 

Any sense of trust for the woman is washed away when the scent hits his nose. He would be able to pick that scent out of a million different ones. It’s one of the best things he’s ever smelled. 

He would be able to recognize the scent of your double chocolate chip cookies. 

And he knows you’re in there. 

“By order of the king, I demand you step aside.” He barely recognizes his voice as it escapes his lips. It’s deep and authoritative… damn as each day passes he sounds more and more like his father… he’ll have to correct that. 

The woman opens his lips to protest. 

Deciding he wants to hear no more of his voice, he gently pushes the woman’s shoulder out of the way. His hand finds the door knob and he throws open the door without care. He breath is ripped from his lungs as he sees the person who stands in the kitchen… in front of those unmistakable chocolate chocolate chip cookies.

“It’s you.” 

The door slamming open scares the shit out of you. 

The entire day you had been lost in your own head. You finished the letter and gave it to your pigeon to take to Schlatt. As soon as it had left your sight, you made your way to the kitchen in a daze where you let yourself begin baking whatever your heart was feeling in the moment. 

It was only when you were beginning to clean up the batter dishes did you realize what you had made… and who you had made it for. You let yourself drift back into your head as you watched the cookies bake  through the oven window. You knew you would probably never see him again. Especially not after this letter. 

You took them out of the oven and let the pan clatter to the counter without much of a care. The soft cooing of your pigeon drew your attention away. You turned to greet it when you caught sight of the paper on it’s leg. Confusion fills you as you carefully take the paper. 

I love you.

It can’t be. 

The door bursts open, causing you to jump and whip around. Those damn fucking beautiful eyes. They always seem to follow you. To haunt you. Especially in your own house, those fucking chesnut brown eyes that say everything that you want to hear all without saying a word.

“It’s you.” 

Oh fuck he’s actually here. 

What the fuck? 

What is he doing here???

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he surges forward. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other moving behind your neck, hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “What are you doing here? Why did you run away?” 

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Did you not get my letter? I’m no good for you, Jon--Prince Schlatt, I do not deserve you, your highness. You deserve someone much better than me. Surely you--” 

“Don’t you understand,” he whispers, cutting you off. “There is no one better.” 

“But your highness--” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What?”

“You know what. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name. Not to you.” 

You let out a sigh and rub your flour coated hands on your apron. “Jonathon.” 

The smile that spreads across his face nearly makes you melt into a puddle. “There it is.” He murmurs, drawing his face closer to yours. “That’s my name.”

“Jonathon,” You repeat, trying to pull your blushing face away from his to no avail. You clear your throat and continue. “As per my letter, you deserve so much better than me. I am sure you can find someone-” 

“Did you mean it?”

You look at him partly confused, partly annoyed at him continuing to interrupt you. “Mean what?” 

“Did you mean it when you signed that you love me?” 

Your heart stops in your chest. You forgot you said that part. You don’t think you would have said it had you known it would have caused him to come bursting into your kitchen. You look at him in disbelief, is he not hearing your words? He surely read the letter. Why is he being so insistent on this? 

You could never lie to him though. 

You clear your throat and move your shoulders back. You meet his eyes head on. “Yes. I did. But-” 

“I love you too.” 

The world stops again. “What?” 

“As per my letter,” he says, a shit eating grin playing on his lips. The shock flowing through your body stops you from rolling your eyes. “I love you.” 

You remember the small piece of paper that was surely on the floor now that you took from the pigeon just moments ago. Obviously that’s who the paper was from. You swallow hard. “Sure you can’t-” 

“But surely I can. I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you called me a big petty man-baby who looked hotter now than I did before.” 

“I… I…’”

“I love you,” He utters, moving impossibly closer to your face. “I always have. You are all I want. You deserve so much better than me… But I’m hoping you’ll lower your standards and settle for me anyway.” 

His eyes shine so brightly. Those damn, fucking, beautiful eyes. They stare at you, hopeful, waiting with bated breath for your answer. They stare so intensely at you… You never want them to look away. 

It’s you that closes the distance and presses your lips to his. He instantly responds, tugging you closer to his chest and kissing you back. The kiss makes your body sing in delight. The spark starts at the base of your spine where his hand connects to your body and shoots out, encasing you completely. From the tippity top of your head to the bippity bottom of your toes. 

He consumes you. Completely. Totally. Entirely. 

You pull away breathless from the kiss, meeting his eyes. “I love you, Jonathon. I want to be yours. Please. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me?” 

Jonathon lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head once. “Oh sweets, you’ve always been mine. I’ve always been yours. From the moment I met you. I’ve been hooked, sweets. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.” 

He leans forward again and presses his lips to yours. You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

After you break apart again, Schlatt tells you to pack your things. You don’t have much here anyway so it doesn’t take you long. Your step family could only watch with crossed arms as you moved about, taking your things. You would miss the house you grew up in, but you were more than excited to begin your new journey. 

Schlatt made Ted and Charlie help carry your things. Ted cursed at Schlatt for not thinking to grab a carriage or at least a horse in the pursuit of you. That spun a whole argument between the two, leaving you to converse with Charlie. 

You gave the man a shy smile. “Sorry for throwing my shoe at you… I panicked about someone following me. 

Charlie gives a chuckle and a smile. “It’s no worries. I’m just glad you made it home safely.” 

“Yeah me too! The magic gave out and I was left carrying a huge ass pumpkin home… My back hurt like hell this morning.”

Charlie tilts his head and gives you a curious look. “Not what I meant… but I do want to hear more about this magic.”

“What did you mean then?”

Charlie doesn’t answer, his head simply moves to where Schlatt and Ted were now in a physical altercation, Schlatt attempting to put Ted in a chokehold. 

A fuzzy feeling floods your chest.

He is your home… isn’t he?

Small Epilogue 

The two of you marry quickly. The royal family welcome you with open arms. They help teach you the ways of the royals but never make you feel less than for being a commoner before the marriage. You never stop baking, you think Schlatt would throw a huge fit if you ever did. He constantly blamed you for his “twink death.” And although you’re not entire sure what that means, you’re sure that happened way before he met you. 

You two love each other openly and loudly. It brings smiles to everyone’s faces to see the prince this lovey dovey with someone. There will always be those that disapprove, but Schlatt is there to hold your hand and tell them to fuck off. 

He reminds you he loves you every single minute of every single day… you think maybe he lays it on a little thick in particular when he wants you to bake something in particular. You never mind though. It’s your baked goods that brought you together in the first place. 

Who are you to deny your love the thing that the two of you bonded over first? 

Especially when he loves you with every fiber of his being… 

…and maybe even more so when you make him chocolate chocolate chip cookies…

And they lived happily ever after.  The End

As per usual, I am shit at writing endings. Thank you for reading my 16.3k word self indulgent fic <3

Leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyeddddd

okay byeeeeeeee back to my several year hiatusssss

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[babyjakes]

sweet surprise. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | august '23 general requests blurb night

summary | ransom has a surprise encounter with your little niece.

pairing | soft!ransom drysdale x auntie!reader (+ reader's baby!niece)

warnings | SOFT RANSOM IS BACK. just soooo fluffy, like unbearable amounts of fluff hehe. written from reader's pov, but most of it is just ran & da baby <3

word count | 689

requested by @brandycranby | hiiiiii eun ✨💕 for blurb night, maybe we could see a fluff or hurt/comfort + unexpectedly soft!ransom + baby? like a teeny tiny chubby wubby baby 🥺

an | aaaahhhhh i'm so glad you sent in this request brandy bby, i've been DYING to write soft!ran lately and this is just the sweetest idea ever ever, hope you enjoy sweet friend and thank you for the amazing idea!!

You don't hear Ransom as he returns home from work, tossing his bag beside the door with a quiet grumble. As always, he's not in the best mood after spending nearly six hours at his grandfather's, helping the old writer with the logistics of his business. He can't wait to spend time with you, the sunshine that always brightens his day and erases any worries that might be floating around in his mind. He doesn't see you as he looks around the living room, but what he does see catches him off guard. On the floor, across the room, sits a strange-looking contraption— some sort of swing. He lets out a gasp as he sees what's sitting inside: a tiny baby whose big, bright eyes are looking over at him with a darling sense of curiosity.

"Oh my," Ransom hums to himself. He stands frozen for a few moments, looking around the room again. You're nowhere to be found. "Now what are you doing here all alone?" he hums softly, finally building up the courage to start making his way over to the swing.

He stops several feet away, just observing the tiny being. Judging by the sweet pink lettering on her jumper that spells out Mama's Girl, he's able to easily guess the infant's gender. "My goodness," the large man whispers, his face softening as the sweet little girl smiles at the sound of his voice, "you're so tiny. What're you doing here, hmm? Was y/n looking after you this afternoon?"

He sits down cross-legged on the floor, scooting himself up a bit more as the baby sways gently in the swing, clapping her tiny hands together clumsily to show the stranger that she's happy to see him. Ransom bites back a smile, reaching out a hand to brush back the little one's thin tufts of hair. "Hi there, pretty girl," he murmurs, "Are you clappin' for me? That's so nice of you, sweetheart. What a smart girl you are."

The infant claps a few more times, giggling softly as a defeated smile finally crosses the brown-haired man's face. "You're too sweet," he admits, stroking the baby's chubby little cheek. "I wonder where y/n is, hmm? Have you seen her?" he asks comically, his grin widening as the baby just continues to wiggle and smile in the swing. "You wanna come out, sweetheart? C'mere, let me hold you."

His hands are steady and careful as he gently unbuckles her from the swing, being sure to support her neck and head as he lifts her up and brings her to his chest. "Oh my," his voice flutters as she tucks her tiny head against his shoulder, snuggling right up to him. "There you go, angel. I got you," he whispers, stroking her hair as he bounces her gently in his arms.

"Welcome home," you giggle as you enter the doorway to the kitchen, your heart swelling at the sight of the giant man holding the tiny baby so carefully, as if she's the most precious thing in the world.

"Look, there's y/n!" Ransom coos excitedly to the little one, causing her to look over at you and offer you a huge, toothless smile. "I bet she missed you!"

"Looks like you're Uncle Ran, huh?" you joke as you join the two on the floor, rubbing the tiny girl's back as Ransom sways and cradles her. "Never knew you liked babies."

"Me neither," the man chuckles, looking down at your niece with the gentlest smile. "But I think this little one might've changed my mind. Look at how tiny she is. So tiny and precious, aren't you?" he fusses her again, earning a chorus of giggles from the baby as he messes her hair carefully. "How long is she staying?" Ransom asks, looking back up at you. "Can we see her again soon? I'll take off work, Harlen won't mind— we should bring her over to see him! He loves kids."

"Hey, hey, slow down," you laugh, leaning over to kiss the sweet man's forehead as you remind him, "I haven't even told you her name yet."

[purity-town]

Ask responses below the cut! Lots of thoughts on Terraria lore and Purity Town worldbuilding -- mostly focusing on the Crimson, the war, and Guides.

Reasons why I chose Corruption over Crimson, off the top of my head:

Artistic reasons: Chris was always going to lean towards magenta & dark blue weapons/armor where possible as a nod to the nebula pillar coloration, and I felt that it was easier to work with those colors against a purple/gray/brown background than a red one. Similarly, the purple of demonite matches the Corruption colors, making it easy to tie a visual connection between demonite and the shadow orbs' evil energy.

Personal reasons: My first world was a Corruption one, and I tend to favor Corruption in general as I like the music more.

Practical reasons: It's much, much easier to draw worms and the various other Corruption enemies than it is to draw the Crimson enemies, as the Crimson enemies are far more complicated in appearance and poses. Plus all the blood and brains puts me in an awkward spot as I don't want to run into issues with any of the websites I post the comic to.

Lore reasons: While the Brain of Cthulhu does very nicely match up with Moon Lord's actual design, it doesn't have a Mech boss associated with it, and I didn't want the Destroyer to feel like it came out of nowhere; I felt it was easier to justify the EoW being related to evil/Moon Lord in some way than the Destroyer existing in a Crimson world. The Corruption's shadow orbs also naturally tie into the idea of the "ancient spirits of light and dark" being released from the underworld, as the Crimson doesn't really convey the "dark" side of things that well. Also, the Crimson is generally associated with health while the Corruption is associated with mana, and since Chris is a mage I wanted to lean into the magic side of things.

As for my ideas with the Crimson:

Theme-wise, the blood and gore is easy to relate back to the same consuming, flesh-melding energy of blood moons. (While blood moons already have a link to Corruption/Crimson in the form of corrupt/vicious animals, the Crimson just makes more sense.) The massive skeletons in the background bring up similarities with bone serpents and wyverns/phantasm dragon, and the eyeballs with the EoC/WoF/True EoC.

Where the Corruption is more of the culmination of sin and dark thoughts and eldritch energies that twist whatever they come into contact with, the Crimson is a growing, living being that spiraled into wild mutation from eldritch energy. The Corruption naturally grows over time through additional sins giving it the power to spread, while the Crimson grows by actively consuming more and more living material; contamination vs. infection; acidic vs. corrosive.

The Crimson is a hive mind, of the sort where each new mind adds its knowledge and input to the collective, and likewise has its will overridden by the majority. At the core of it all is the Brain of Cthulhu -- intelligent, but not something that can be reasoned with or spoken to; the sort of being whose mind is so fundamentally different from a human's that anyone who comes into contact would be left mentally shattered. Much the same way one who stares into the darkness seeking to study the eldritch and bizarre could be left broken.

Where the Corruption chasms are worm tracks, I've always interpreted the Crimson chasms as a heart and the arteries spreading out from it. Or maybe the tendrils of a spreading infection? Not really sure!

Side note, the general theme (flesh/blood) and many of the monsters (face monster, crimera, blood feeder, etc.) also tie very well into the Wall of Flesh and its hunger. The justification for the WoF being so...flesh in the comic is that Andrew is a human*, and so the WoF's form is influenced by what his soul knows (flesh and blood body), mixed with lots and lots of eldritch energy giving it the visual ties to the EoC/Moon Lord in the eyes/mouth. But it's not as natural of a link as "the WoF's form is steeped in overflowing Crimson energy locked away in the center of the earth."

Instead of shattering, I imagine it would just poof into a particularly liquid-looking red smoke. Something to combine it being an immaterial/magical collection of energy with it being bloody and gory. Less of the sharp/shattered/sparkly look of shadow orbs, and something more organic and primal.

As for Crimson hearts...I suppose it's the other side of the coin of shadow orbs. Keeping with the theme of Crimson being vaguely health/damage-related while Corruption is mana-related, where shadow orbs are pustules of evil and eldritch magic, I could imagine Crimson hearts as concentrations of the life energy that's been consumed by/generated within the Crimson. Something that pulses with the hearts and minds of the countless creatures that have been incorporated into the Crimson before. Hence the panic necklace; something that fills you with adrenaline and the vitality to push forward and run for your life when hurting (compared to the band of starpower boosting your ability to channel magic).

BAD. Really, really, really bad.

The most obvious reason was all of the general destruction that the world had suffered at that point. Land masses ripped apart or twisted/distorted. Civilization shredded, infrastructure destroyed. What wasn't outright blasted to bits was warped beyond recognition or so corrupted there was no hope of salvaging what had been there before. Loss of homes means exposure to the elements, and loss of farmland means starvation; many societies crumbled or were staggered by the loss of vital industries and resources.

The main surviving communities were small subsets of what were once larger cultures. They were the ones lucky enough to have enough resources nearby to be self-sustaining -- cities had it the worst, requiring resources to be brought in from elsewhere, while more remote communities tended to be affected the least. Andrew, for instance, grew up in a very small community out on the plains, and while they did have contact with other communities, trade was limited to only specialty goods. Everything else came from the local area.

On top of the physical loss of land and infrastructure, there was also the loss of knowledge. The people who stood up to fight were the most powerful mages and strongest warriors, trying to hold back the destruction and stop the eldritch power contaminating the world; when they died, their knowledge of the world died with them. Similarly, Dryads were far more common back then, with people relying on them to interpret the weather, bless the crops, protect them from harm, and purify any imbalance of good and evil. So even the folks who did survive had to suddenly adjust to having no Dryads to fall back on.

Then, just when they thought the worst of it was over -- that their world had ended and was something new and scary, but stable -- the first Blood Moon rises and everything goes to Hell in a hand-basket once more (albeit only for a night). So now, rather than the night being a time for mages to practice their craft, the inherent chaos of the dark is now dialed up 1000% (even moreso during blood moons). Hence the push for some folks to try and find solace beneath the earth -- building the underground cabins, establishing the Dungeon, and the Lihzahrds locking themselves within a temple away from the sky.

The world was finally given a chance to breathe again once most of the eldritch magic, and in equal measure the divine hallow, was locked away in the core of the world. But by that point the old world was already a distant memory. It's been 500 years since the war, around 450 since most magic was locked away, and what did remain from before the war gave the world a significant boost in recovery. Old magic items and technology can be studied and recreated, and while technological/magical advancement is a bit uneven from region to region depending on their level of development and general population, the Guides have worked hard sharing everything they know between them to rebuild.

Purity Town, and the smaller villages immediately surrounding it (in the desert, snowy mountains, etc.) has such a low population/is so remote that they don't have much in the way of established governance. Various NPCs arguably have varying levels of authority within their specialization: Heather is the go-to for healing, Malik is the local monster hunter, and so on, but it's all very informal. The individual villages probably all have people who handle day-to-day things -- there are various random folks who live in the region to fill out each village outside of the established NPCs -- but it's just something going on in the background to keep the place running.

Guides aren't really meant to be politicians either, but they do often fall into a default leadership role since they're the go-to advice guys!

They're meant to preserve and share knowledge of the world, its languages, and its cultures; a reaction to the vast majority of that knowledge having been lost in the wake of the war 500 years ago. So Guides are out there fielding questions like "how do I make this medicine/when do I harvest this plant/is this edible/etc.," but they also are expected to know enough about situations like weather/celestial events such that they can give advice no matter what crops up. Extend that attitude to a more general "this person knows how to handle Problems, so let's default to whatever they tell us whenever we run into Problems," and you end up with Guides often taking pseudo-leadership or advisory positions.

Andrew is in something of a weird spot, as he took over for a much more established/respected Guide after she retired and threw him into it, and is not particularly good at commanding authority or dealing with people in the way she could, even though he tries to be nice. But he's extremely, extremely knowledgeable, even compared to other Guides due to having been around for long enough to pick up so much knowledge, so at least he can fulfill that aspect of the job easily enough and the townsfolk trust him to do so.

Tangentially related, but the lack of solid governance is specific/unique to Purity Town's remoteness. With a small enough population, folks rely on the cooperation and skills of others much more, and any disputes would be worked out among the townsfolk proper.

The world isn't fully settled, but there are some locations with enough of a population to be considered actual kingdoms (see: Princess NPC) with established government (see: Tax Collector). Chris' hometown, which sees a lot of ship traffic/trade, has a proper government, local guard, etc. along with their own Guide. Purity Town is just particularly out there! But it's still been around for long enough to have seen some trade, built up some skills among the residents, and establish basic infrastructure so that residents can live comfortably. Like comparing a small town in the modern day to a remote village in medieval times, residents still enjoy a relatively high standard of living, despite being a scattered and remote population.

The world hasn't recovered to where it was pre-Moon Lord, but it's certainly not a post-apocalyptic wasteland anymore!

[idyllic-ghost]

title: sunday morning pairing: seungkwan x reader genre: fluff, comfort warnings: mentions of food synopsis: the comforting bubble of a romantic getaway by the beach was just what you needed to relax and recharge wordcount: 1.5k taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz,

a/n: spring is coming and seungkwan is important to me. that's it, that's the post.

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The room is barely lit up by the first few rays of sunshine peaking in through the thin blinds, but they still manage to stir you awake. Reaching out to your side, you find it empty and cold. You open your eyes and look around the unfamiliar room, trying to find Seungkwan somewhere. He's gone. Just last night, he was laying close beside you and keeping you warm with his arms wrapped around you. He must have slipped away while you were sleeping. The clock on the bedside table says 5:13 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off of you to go look for your boyfriend.

You never like waking up without him, but especially not when you are supposed to be on a romantic getaway together. With lazy steps, you walk around the room until you find Seungkwan's suitcase. He doesn't like it when you steal his clothes without asking first, but he would have to accept that now. You put on an old t-shirt of his, and find your own pajama shorts lying somewhere on the ground. The fabric was cold against your naked skin, but you pushed on.

Walking down the wooden staircase of the beach cabin is difficult when you aren't completely awake yet. The stairs are steep and you are still dizzy with sleep, so you clutch onto the railing as hard as you can. Each step creaks and croaks under your feet, and you have to keep your eyes down to make sure you don't miss a step. As you successfully reach the bottom of the stairs, you also succeed in waking up Bookeu.

Your search for Seungkwan continues, now with Bookeu walking around your legs. The beach house is small, and it doesn't take long before you've looked into every room - but Seungkwan is still nowhere to be found. Then, Bookeu must have heard a noise because he starts sprinting toward the door to the back porch.

When you slide open the door, you're hit with a nostalgic chill. It isn't cold, just enough for you to wake up properly. Spring is here. Peeking your head around the glass door, you find Seungkwan sitting on the bench lined up with the wall of the house and staring at the ocean. He's wearing a warm fleece and has a blanket pulled over his lap - a sense of calm washes over you at the knowledge that he's at least not cold. The sun is halfway up now, painting your lover with a golden hue. Bookeu runs out on the porch and up to his owner, silently begging him to lift him up. After doing so, Seungkwan looks over at you with tired eyes.

"Good morning," you say. "Do you want coffee?"

Seungkwan, looking solemn, simply nods a yes. You smile at him before heading to the kitchen. From the kitchen window, you can see the top of his head. It's slightly hidden behind a plant, so it's no surprise that you didn't notice it before. The coffee machine is old, and it takes long for the drip coffee to finish. Enough for the sun to have fully risen above the horizon. You wash a couple fruits in the meantime, setting them aside in a bowl before looking around for a knife. The day you have already spent here isn't enough for you to know where everything is.

When the coffee is finally ready you bring two cups of it, along with the bowl of fruit, out to the porch. There's a small table in front of the bench, so you put the things down there. Seungkwan is still just looking out over the water, and Bookeu is sitting in his lap. After handing him his cup, you just stand there. You hesitate to sit down, not knowing if this is supposed to be his alone time. He seems to sense your hesitation and quickly pulls the blanket up as an invitation for you to sit down. When you do, he puts the fluffy fabric over your legs.

"Good morning," he says. "Sorry for leaving you in bed."

"It's okay."

Seungkwan wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer to him - and when you put his head on your shoulder, he puts his head on top of yours. Bookeu, who had grown a little bit antsy, jumps down from Seungkwan's lap and runs back inside. You can hear him run around the kitchen, his paws making happy little sounds against the wooden floor. You take the opportunity to hog a little bit more of the blanket, and Seungkwan lets you - pulling at it and making sure that both of your legs are covered properly. He's definitely noticed that you stole his shirt now, but he doesn't say anything.

"Why did you come out here so early?" you ask.

"I couldn't sleep," he admits, "and watching the ocean was comforting."

"You should've woken me up," you murmur as you snuggle closer into his side.

"You looked so peaceful, I just couldn't." Seungkwan presses a kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip to put down his cup. "Why the fruit?"

"Have you eaten yet?"

"... no." He shuffles around in his seat, making you lift your head from his shoulder.

"Then it's for you."

You watch as he picks up the bowl, holding it gently in his hands. There are a few grapes, a couple apples and oranges, and strawberries. The knife balances on the edge of the bowl, and Seungkwan picks it up and hands it to you along with an apple.

"Can you peel it for me?" he mumbles.

Without another word, you take the items from his hands and start peeling the apple. Laying the sharp edge of the knife against the waxy skin of the apple, pressing down hard enough to break the seal but not to cut into its flesh. As steady as you can, you move the knife around the apple - creating a spiral of fruit peel. Seungkwan watches your hands intently, careful not to disturb the process.

The waves crashing against the shore in the background force you into a rhythm, only to be broken by Bookeu's high-pitch bark. You had only managed to peel half of the apple when the skin broke. Still, you held it up proudly to Seungkwan - and he ooh-ed and aah-ed at the spiral-shaped peel. With a small smile, you continued to peel- Seungkwan now had his chin on your shoulder, giggling whenever you messed up. His breath tickled against your exposed skin, as your shirt had its collar stretched out with age. His laughter made you giddy, only making it harder for you to peel the fruit in your hands.

Eventually, you had peeled the entire fruit. Its white flesh now laid bare for you, and you cut into it with the knife. Cutting out a big chunk of the juicy apple, you hand it to Seungkwan for him to eat. He takes it happily, bringing the piece of fruit to his lips and putting the entire thing in his mouth. You laugh as he grimaces at the too-big piece. Next time, you cut a smaller piece - which he chews with more ease.

You feel warm under the blanket, contrasted with the salty, chilly air. Nevertheless, you welcome the breeze as it gives you an excuse to get a little closer to the man next to you. You keep feeding him fruit, and he wraps his arms around your torso - keeping his head on your shoulder to watch over your hands, making sure that you're careful with the sharp knife.

When the apple is nothing but a skinny pit, you put it on the table, and pick up a strawberry from the bowl. Seungkwan presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips slightly sticky from the fruit juices but you don't mind. You carefully take off the hull before cutting the red berry in half. The halves look like hearts, and you happily show Seungkwan.

"Here." You give him one of the halves. "You can have my heart."

"You're so corny," he huffs but takes the strawberry anyway. "Then that's my heart, right?" He motions to the other strawberry half before putting his berry half in his mouth.

"Of course."

"Good." He sits up straight. "You better not be eating anyone else's heart."

You snort at his comment but eat the heart-shaped strawberry anyway. Its sweetness coats your tongue, and you close your eyes for a moment to savor it. When you open your eyes again and look over at Seungkwan, he's staring at you. His hair is a mess, he probably hasn't looked himself in the mirror yet today, but you only find it endearing. His hand finds yours, and you quickly intertwine your fingers with his.

"Thanks for sitting with me," he murmurs.

"Thanks for letting me," you say. "It's the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning."

Seungkwan nods, wrapping his arms around you again to steal some of your body warmth. The two coffee cups are forgotten, and are slowly getting colder and colder. You can't be bothered with coffee or fruit, when all you need is Seungkwan's embrace. The sun is far above the horizon now, and you can taste the strawberry on Seungkwan's lips when he kisses you. The kiss brings you more warmth than the sun ever could, and you feel so lucky to have your own bright star to light up your day.

[fanficfish]

nations and their little "tells" of how long they've lived

there is definitely a post somewhere about this but whatever this is my hadcanon xD

-England and his three big bros are the prime example of "going a little crazy", they've been alive so long and half of it through the Mideival Era that they've lost concept of a lot of stuff. Like their touch with reality is a little screwed and you definitley notice they don't quite get some stuff, like they'll miss empathy cues or slip into mannerisms from days long past. Use old English, etc. They're the wacky cousins that ar just a bit confused but they're trying, even if they get on everyone's nerves a bit. Also they're still figuring out how emails work, because while their personalities change according to their people their actual knowledge doesn't always keep up.

-Russia, i think that one's obvious, man's had such a time that he's spent so long plastering a smile that he's basically forgotten how not to not smile. And you can't undo centuries in a day. You see his true nation age when he takes everything and doesn't bother trying to question it no matter how ridiculous, when he stops a tank with his bare hands and walks it off, when he's surprised people don't usually try to jump out planes without parachutes.

-countries with violet eyes like Canada, Iceland, Norway- they blend in too well, they resemble the quiet kid in the back of the class (personal headcanon it indicatess magical inclination). You realize they're not quite human when Norway turns his head and hos haircurl floats midair and his gaze is just a bit too knowing, when Iceland makes a remark well beyond his physical age and you remember he's a thousand years old, when Canada- actually no the bear is enough proof.

-And then there's China and Japan, two old men who look young but have that sense of knowing more then they let on like Norway but without the creepy blank look that comes when one has Seen Too Much. Instead they travel through life like they don't have a care, as if every day is a lfietime in Neverland. Especially China. Japan also just looks tired all the time even if he isn', from stress lines that never go away.

-Prussia is that fun work colleague who suddenly turns into a history nerd out of nowhere and then flips back to normal wild mode. He's the one who tells tales like he actually was there, he and the wrest lf the BTT really. It's like they rememebr, because they do.

-Meanwhile Lithuania and Finland seem normal enough- good hardoqrking young men doing good woek. But thebmoment they're attacked, their eyes blaze and it's like an aura radiates lff them. And you know they're stronger then they look, that they won't go down without a fight. And you'll probably be the one going down no matter how strong you think you are, because they're nations and they will always hve more power and centuries of experience. Even if it's been years and they aren't superpowers, they have the muscle memory. It's engrained into their very being, it's a part of them and if you approach them the wrong way you might get dropkicked by accident.

-Countries like Denmark and America- their smiles are just off. Denmark's is too sharp, just a amidge too much, and America's is too wide, like he's trying tok hard when it's just his natural face.

-and then there's austrailia and new zealand who are the reason Florida started fighting alligators and convinced their residents to start doing it too "for the YouTube views", forgetting rhat moat people don't have instahealing or can come back from the dtad.

[overtaken-stream]

Love, Lust, Lick

Izou x Gn!Reader

Published this on AO3 a while back, but I decided I should post this here too bc I love this man with all my heart and he deserves more recognition <3

Warnings: blowjob, established relationship(I have no clue), hair pulling

Your body shook as though your legs had been frozen and a bolt of lightning had struck your body from head to toe, numb knees bent in a way that makes the pain return every minute your subconscious returns to reality, the depths of your eyelids fog your mind, becoming the past and the present. Through the dank room, the cold of the wooden walls and the outside world have long since passed, instead being replaced by the heat your fervour has conveyed from your nether regions.

The soft lighting coming from the window was your only gateway from the darkness of his slumbering cabin, it makes sense you would want to enjoy the view you so rarely get. The stars innocently shone behind his shadowed face, silky hair coming down in long strands to rest on his shoulders as he tilted his head back, lips part, and released the hot air from his lungs. You could only imagine the view from the top, for the time being, you bask in his pelvis, trying your best to take all of him in, it's hard to get your point across with your tongue slowly going up to his tip, leaving trails of saliva behind on the bulging vein underneath, you note how he shivers from the sudden release and air contact. You hold him at the base, sliding up and down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks you can feel him throbbing between your lips, throat, and the tongue it's resting on, it causes tears to gather and latch onto your eyelashes, it causes you to go harder and faster, just the way he likes it.

Quiet hums stimulate him as the drool seeps out around your stretched jaws and continues its way down to his balls.

His head looks down at your sitting form, his scar over his right eye nowhere to be seen in the shade, half-lidded brown eyes are shining in stimulation you're giving him, he's weary, sleepy but his fatigue can wait. He puts his weight onto his left hand that's on the window stool and gets his sweaty, numb right hand to land on your retreating head. Tilting it back to stare at your glassy eyes. You've always been breathtaking, but looking at your shimmers that are like the sun's rays enchant him and capture his worn-out gaze, though, unlike the sun, he can stare at you all day; look at your face as you flash your toothy smile, listen to your ramblings and hold the precious eye contact as long as he possibly can before you (and him) disappear in your assigned duties, he promised himself to live without remorses, but as he spends more time with you, the more he thinks of the time, more the doubts dictate his thoughts, that he should be spending more time with you. When he knows it's impossible, not to mention inappropriate.

But he needs you, the never-ending thirst for the water which only you hold in the desert that is his mentality craves so impossibly further for you, his heart longs for your warm hands to touch his chest, in the past he has already become one with you, his and your heart, beat to the shared rhythm of reach. (He needs more of you.)

There's spit connecting your bottom lip to his shaft, glimmering in the light before it snaps and lands someplace below where the light doesn't reach. His palm is slipping on the sweat on your forehead, yet he continues to rub his thumb on your glabella. The quiet- yet heavy breathing of your disheveled figure limits the entire world to only you. Only your glazed-over eyes and swollen lips exist in his sight, he feels only your torso press against his legs, only your hands grasping the back of his knees as he sets his eyes on the forgotten (not by you, but by him) and stiff penis, he is surprised by the swollen look of it, flush overcomes his face from the angry red color the tip took, it screams at him to put your head back to work, however before he can advance the cold breeze over his urethra startles him, getting a hiss out of his mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip devoid of his signature lipstick, his furrowed brows get a sly and small, giggle from you that got cut off by him whispering cuss words at the empty space, he doesn't let go of your head, instead his long fingers become tangled in your hair as you lower yourself to kiss the place where his shaft begins and the sack ends. Your hands travel upward as you continue to circle his dick in kisses, they rest near his hips and the stool.

You take in the view, his hand, weak and powerless, rests in your hair as the line of his abs stands out, they flex as he bares himself fully for your sake. You want to, but don't dwell on the sight much., you're too caught up...

The moment a wet cavern engulfs him, he closes his eyes, tilts his head back, he grasps your hair tight in his hand as his cock manages to grow. He starts slowly thrusting and grinding his hips as you deepthroat him, slobbering at the musky scent of his manhood and looking up at him to meet his sweaty body, the muscles hidden from the view now stand proud with droplets of salty liquid dripping off of him, decorating his naked body with moving jewels.

The tears finally slip out of your eyes as he thrusts too sharply, holding onto your hair tighter than ever as he triggers your gag reflex, saliva floods your mouth as the muffled choking sounds intensify.

Only now has he realized just how much he wanted to reach his climax, after who knows how many edging sessions from you, he finally lets go of himself. Draping the intoxicating arousal all around himself and drowning in it.

``fuck... (Y-Y/N)-hah...-`` he moans. With more lubricant you move faster, up and down, up and down, you want to drag and catch more noises out of him. Dirty groans, mewls... loud exhales... Anything.

His simultaneous thrusts only spur you on. It excites you as he lets go of the self-control and roughly manages your head with his hand, you try desperately to clutch yourself around his shaft, to lick it from the bottom up, his gruffs of pleasure the only fuel you'll need to complete the mission: taste his essence.

At the height of his climax, his strong hand hits against the back of your head, sharply thrusting up, pushing you against his neatly trimmed pubes.

"hah... Yeah... That's it... That's... Ah...♡"

You suck and massage, run your tongue over his tip, and as his hand stutters, you take advantage of the slip-up, forcefully making your head gently travel up over his base, teeth grazing against his rounded edges, you take in the sight of slobber all around his pelvis area. You can feel it pulsing in your mouth as you carefully squeeze your teeth and take it to the bottom where your nose meets his dark pubes once again. Faint noises escape your teeth, noises you're sure he can feel. Just a little more and...

There.

The surprised moan and the twitching are the only warnings you get as he exhales, his long lashes closed and eyebrows creased, he cums. The salty taste quickly spreads onto your tastebuds. You swallow drops of it, trying to contain it until the man himself interrupts.

Izou with his eyes rolled back into his head, roughly leans your head back, pulling out of your warmth and pumping his penis right in your face as the translucent liquid smears on your lips and nose, his brown eyes meet yours once again as you run your hands under his testicles, the liquid lands on your cheeks, stained with dried-up tears.

Flicking your tongue on his yet-to-soften cock you hold his gaze as you go down on him to finally lick his shaft clean of any fluid in peace, tracing and mapping out the bulging veins in the process (the process you've done for quite some time now, but a little studying has never hurt anybody).

His breathy giggle and a smirk are worth the filth.

He doesn't need to say anything, pregnant pause turns into comfortable silence as he tucks your hair strand behind your ear, gently taking your face in both of his hands. He brings your face forward.

In the silent night, the whisper of "I ♡ you" is a sign of end of your time with him.

He tastes himself on your salty lips, and wishes for more time.

(You taste the erased lipstick and only lick the sweet aftertaste away, from deep in your heart, the greed grows.)

[redladydeath]

re: your vox mindbreak au, it's such a fascinating scenario with so many avenues of interest.

does vox definitively become one of alastor's thralls. you know, just like nifty is even though we're not sure her soul is alastor.

what sort of conflicts of interests would occur if he's still — if not commercially then emotionally, to them — part of the vees?

would alastor drag him to the hotel, making him a reluctant staff member, even though it fails to capture his interest? what surprising dynamics would crop up?

and if it occurs during/post-canon, and the hotel ensemble knew who vox used to be, would this irrevocably change his relationship with the cast who do not know alastor's cruelty? does vox have dysphoria when he remembers his head isn't a CRT, and then forgets, and then remembers, and then forgets, and then—? please reply asap im going insane.

Oh gosh, thank you. It's really flattering when people show interest in my weird little ideas.

does vox definitively become one of alastor's thralls

Not definitely. I have two avenues for this AU: One where the mindbreak happens in the 1960s, when Alastor and Vox have their first big fight, and one where it happens in the modern day, when Vox is part of the Vees. In the 60s route, he's one of Al's thralls; in the modern route, Alastor vanishes (possibly for seven years) immediately after breaking him and Val and Velvette are left to deal with the aftermath.

what sort of conflicts of interests would occur if he's still part of the vees?

Oh God, the subconscious yearning. Vox can't remember why he cares so much about these two random overlords, but he demonstrably does. He wouldn't feel so drawn to them and their products if they weren't important in some way. If Alastor ever ordered him to hurt them, he'd probably refuse (or at least try to talk his way out of it), which never happens anymore.

would alastor drag him to the hotel, making him a reluctant staff member, even though it fails to capture his interest? what surprising dynamics would crop up?

Of course! He's basically Alastor's loyal pet now– no reason not to bring him along! The hotel is novel enough that he's not particularly bored (always some wacky nonsense happening there!), even if the whole redemption thing is a bit out of his depth and doesn't feel possible.

Vox scares the absolute crap out of Husk. Knowing Niffty wasn't just a one-off and that Alastor is willing to do this to someone he considered a friend just because he didn't like his attitude is terrifying. Vox would also end up pretty close with Niffty, not because of their shared situation (neither of them are really aware of that), but because her 1950s sensibilities are comforting and familiar to him– she always makes sense to him in a way the rest of the world just doesn't. She also wouldn't even be remotely bothered by the constant out-of-nowhere topic changes or the short-term memory loss, so that's a plus.

and if it occurs during/post-canon, and the hotel ensemble knew who vox used to be, would this irrevocably change his relationship with the cast who do not know alastor's cruelty?

Oh yeah. I think seeing Alastor do something this extreme and unnecessary would be the final straw for Charlie. She's not even comfortable with killing genocidal freaks like Adam; no matter what Vox did, she wouldn't be okay with this. Plus, actually seeing him do this would make it click for everyone that maybe Niffty's not just some funny little creature, which would feel incredibly violating in retrospect given how much they've all come to care about her. Charlie would kick Alastor out of the hotel, which he'd be thrilled about, although he might end up back on their doorstep due to the constraints of his contract.

does vox have dysphoria when he remembers his head isn't a CRT, and then forgets, and then remembers, and then forgets, and then—?

Imo, in both routes he'd probably go back to the original 1950s set that he manifested with. It's just something he feels compelled to do– it's what Alastor would want him to do, after all. He'd probably need help making the change, but Alastor would do so happily / Velvette would do so reluctantly if that's what'll make him feel comfortable. I have a mental image where, when he first wakes up after The Incident, the first sign that something's wrong is that his display is fully black and white, despite the fact he's still using the modern flatscreen. But yeah, I imagine there'd be a lot of loops of "something is wrong– nevermind!– something is wrong– nevermind!" about various things, whether it's his body, the situation, or the presence/absence of certain people.

[jayke0]

End of The Line

Summary: It's the end of the line for Moon Knight.

Rating: Mild gore.

Warnings/Content: Ton of angst, Marc hates himself, Marc hates Steven, they're literally dying, blood, MK lore is canon but this is set afterwards, mild self harm references, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 862

A/n: This is just a short little angst thing I wrote a while ago and edited today. I know this isn't what i normally post, but I just wanted to get this out there since it's been on my mind for a while. Probably typos.

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………….....………………..................

“What's wrong?”

Marc hates that phrase.

What's wrong? Surely, if he knew what was wrong, he wouldn't be sobbing in a public restroom in the middle of nowhere.

“Marc?”

“Fuck off, Steven.”

His knuckles are stark white from how hard he's gripping the metal sink, countless droplets of tears and blood trickling down the inside of the cold basin.

Marc’s focus shifts to the mirror. He'd hoped that adjusting his hair would work to ground him, but the swept back curls only reveal the bags under his worn eyes and red streaks staining his cheeks. The salty beads sting the crimson cuts littering his face.

“What happened to you, Marc?”

Jesus, does this guy ever shut up? He's like a constant nag in the back of Marc’s brain, a constant reminder of what he could’ve been. They'd reconciled after their escapade with Ammit, but the military man was finding it hard to be open with Steven; even after dying together.

It's almost poetic how their situation has come full circle; except this time, they have no Layla to save them

Marc ignores the voice, Steven doesn't need to know anyway, that'd just make everything worse. Splashing his face with water makes him hiss softly under his breath, and he catches eye contact with himself. He feels his throat tighten, a ball rising under his skin till he's eventually sobbing again.

He can't hold himself up, it feels like the entire weight of the world is pushing him further and further down onto the grimy tiled floor. The rubber of his trainers squeaks as he finally collapses against the cabinets, letting out a yelp of pain.

If he doesn't look at it, it's not real.

The end of his t-shirt is bunched up, revealing a grisly stain of blood slowly seeping from somewhere under his shirt.

If it was possible, Steven's stomach would've flipped at the sight, his body and mind thrumming with dread as the dull ache finally settles into his figurative body.

“Marc… why are you bleeding?”

“We're dying, Steven.”

His words are just as cold as the tiles, the freeze spreading through Steven's brain as he grips the reality of the situation.

“No, mate, we can't be… C'mon, we're Moon Knight, remember?”

“We're not fucking Moon Knight anymore.” Marc's words are harsh whispers through gritted teeth. “We're gonna die, and in a dingy old shit hole too… I suppose that's right for me.”

His eyes feel so droopy, and he is so tired, so so fucking tired. The lids of his eyes feel like they're closing and dragging him further towards the earth, towards the end.

“Mate… Please.” Steven's voice seems so far away, had it always been that far away? Maybe he'd always been in the back of his mind, rather than the front, never close enough for Marc to reach.

It's full of pain too, and Marc's not sure if it's from the physical pain, or the mental pain of his world suddenly crashing around him.

Leaning his head back against the cabinets, his breaths start to shallow.

“Yeah, I deserve this.” He says to himself, or maybe to Steven, if he's still there. “I always knew I'd end up like this.”

Why is he crying though? If he deserves this so much, why is he crying?

“Marc, you gotta get up. I need you to get up.”

Is he crying too? That makes sense, Steven cries at the littlest of things.

“What's it matter to you? You ain't real, Steven.”

Marc's words are like venom, spat from the cruelest creature. He knows Steven doesn't deserve that, especially in his last moments, but his brain can't seem to come up with anything else.

All he can think about as he sits on the cold tile, is how much he hates Steven. How much he hates him for having a better life, always getting the good end of the stick and never having to deal with anything else; their mom, their brother, their childhood. Steven had gotten a job, and won over someone else's wife. Marc couldn't even do that.

“I am real.”

“Shut up—” Coughing interrupts Marc's scorning, his lungs struggling to inhale any oxygen. He finally rests himself on the floor, laying on his back to stare up at the fluorescent lights; they're kind of pretty in a way. With the way his head is spinning, it makes them furl together in a beautiful dance, winding together like hungry snakes.

”This is it, we're dying.” He thinks to himself.

”finally, we're dying.”

...........................................................................

Just tagging my friends and fellow writers for np thoughts, hope you don't mind that it's something different. 🖤: @faretheeoscar @summonthesoups @ominoose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @midgardian-witch @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @femmeanonymelives

[amberrskiies]

Happy Birthday, Levi

Pairing: Leviathan && Amber

Status: Dating

Timeline: Post Nightbringer Lesson 40

Written in honor of Levi's Birthday! Happy Birthday Leviathan!! <333

"I... can't accept your gift..."

Amber was stunned when she heard the Third Born, Avatar of Envy say that to her when she held out the gift for him to take.

Both Amber and Levi were in the human realm at her apartment room. Diavolo thought it would be best if she had gone taken a vacation in her realm after she had been thrown into the past and had been stuck there for months on end.

The brothers would visit her from time to time whenever they had the chance to. Amber had told Levi to come visit her in the Human Realm for something important. That being wanting to celebrate his birthday with him here.

She thought he'd be happy to get a gift from her like he always does but he didn't expect him to reject her gift. Instead of being sad, she could sense something was wrong.

"Levi... Is there something wrong?" She asked him as he refused to make eye-contact with her.

This made her more worried as she set the gift aside as she took one of his hand in hers.

"Levi? Please tell me what's wrong. You're always happy to get a gift for me. Why not now?"

Levi remained silent for a moment before sighing.

"It just... doesn't seem fair." Amber heard him say as she tilted her head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked to which Levi gently grasped her hand.

"I just don't find it fair to celebrate my birthday because... we weren't able to celebrate yours since you went missing." He inhaled and exhaled before continuing.

"I even planned ahead on the places i wanted to take you on your birthday and i even had a gift for you yet I couldn't give any of those to you..."

Amber heard him trail off as she slowly removed her hand from his to cup one side of his face to make him face her.

"Hey... It's okay. We can still go to those places anytime. We don't have to wait for my birthday and you can still give me my present when we go back to the Devildom."

Levi listened to her before he looked down and sighed, nodding.

"I know we can. I just..." he let out a shaky breath before slowly pulling Amber into a hug, burying his face on her shoulder.

"I missed you... so so much." He mumbled.

He held her tight as if afraid that he'll lose her if he didn't keep her close. Amber gave him a sad look before hugging him back.

"I missed you too. I'm sorry for disappearing out of nowhere... Just know that I'm not going to leave you anytime soon and besides it's hard to get rid of someone like me so easily so you're stuck with me for a long long time!"

That was enough to Levi to crack a smile as he chuckled, lifting his head away from her shoulder to look at her.

"You really know what to say." to which Amber shrugged.

"You could call it a specialty of mine." She giggled, leaning onto him slightly.

Levi's smile widened even more as he played with her hair while remaining in each other's embrace. After a while he spoke up.

"Can we stay like this for a little longer?" Amber heard him as she nodded.

"Of course! Oh and Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday. I love you." She told him, hugging him once more.

This was enough to make Levi get rid of all his worries, smiling even more as he hugged her back.

"I love you too and thank you... for everything."

A/N - ainofieboeinetn this sounded way better in my head but i tried! So sorry it took so long but i got side tracked heavily!

Tagging: @yourboyhack @attic-club-sandwich @mikasha-9 @arklayraven @aspiringtrashpanda @ithseem @mcx7demonbros @112-darling @juvellianovo @amunetmagic @kitsune-oji

[pain-is-too-tired]

Mentioned the whole Will,Drew and Jake feeling angry at Silena and Clarisse in tags of the Clarisse post reblog-

But gonna specifically focus on Jake here, because the fandom already explores Will and Drew's feelings on the matter so I wanna kinda expand on my boy.

But, something I feel like definitely would've been interesting in the books, it's exploring both Jake and Drew's feelings post titan war and Leo and Piper's view in the matter.

People already brought up with Drew's feelings on Silena being seen as wrong in the sense of the books portrayal. Why Jake's feelings on the whole thing in general is,honestly, him in a state of depression.

Like I've seen it brought up the idea of him having been fine if he hadn't made it back from trying to riegn in Festus. And I can see that, because he's completely given up by the time Leo gets there. And why I personally would have preferred that Leo and Piper not been Head Counselors or been raised to co-counselors, I can definitely see why he might've wanted to step back. Though him getting back up on his feet(figuratively and literally) as a Head Counselor when Leo comes back would've been neat.

And addressing the issues left after the Titan War being a part of that.

Because Jake lost his brother and was suddenly thrusted into leadership, only to find out that his brother's girlfriend had been the spy that indirectly led to his death. Like, I assume he probably interacted with her a bit more in some compacity with her and Beck dating, or he at least more regularly saw just how happy Beckendorf was with her. So finding that out had to hurt.

And there's some ground to explore it even in tlo. Jake is the one the bring up the spy again to everyone after the first night in BoM. Percy interacts with Jake and Silena a lot in the ch/scenes. Silena deciding to try to get Clarisse again, and Jake being the one to update Percy on the situation and seems to heavily analyze the battles of the previous night.

I think, why he never truly voice his full thoughts on it, that he was hyper aware of the spy being around. That he didn't want to go blaming others out of nowhere but also wanted to make sure what happened with Beckendorf, and later Michael, didn't happen again.

I think also,something that might've also made him more bitter, is the fact that he didn't really get anyone checking in on him in regards to Beckendorf's death. Why everyone seemed to be careful when mentioning Beckendorf around Silena.

Which, that could just be from what we see. Maybe others were making sure he was okay outside of what Percy points out, but there's nothing solid in that regard to go off of.

And grant it, part of that was Silena was a lot more openly grieving then Jake. But I could argue Jake probably felt like he couldn't openly grieve the same way. He had to care for his other grieving siblings after all. I could imagine that could grow bigger resentment with Silena being called a hero after everything.

Like, he had to take up a sudden leadership role mid war. He likely had the stress of living up to Beckendorf. He had to look after the rest of his siblings.

The only mentions of others recognizing Jake had lost a brother was in his introduction(vaguely mentioning even him being able to be amused by Clarisse and Michael's back and forth) and Jake himself in his rally cry to his siblings when they're given their assignment the first night.

Meanwhile when it's brought up Annabeth mentioning Beckendorf making the shield hesitantly, the focus is in her trying not to upset Silena. Nothing about the Hephaestus kids as well(though I'm sure they likely knew he helped make it, seeing your brothers work after just loosing him properly hurt)

I think something about Silena having(understandably) openly grieved Beckendorf, and Jake thinking back on that with bitterness because, she knew.

Which,yeah Silena was being blackmailed and all, but that doesn't make the harm her being a spy caused. And for Jake, who might've even felt they were on the same wavelength in having loved and now grieving Beckendorf, it would 100% make sense if he felt betrayed in a way. That anger just turning to apathy as he falls deeper into a depression as they struggle with the curse in his cabin.

And the different feelings about someone they never met Leo and Piper are suddenly met with. Where Piper is met with everyone but Drew defending their lost sister, which we see her somewhat internalizes as well especially with her own situation.

Vs Leo who's met with the grief and feeling of betrayal towards what led to their brother's death. There being way less doubts in Beckendorf's sacrifice being heroic, but also the sadness that it could've gone a different way.

Idk, I really was excited when I first started reading tlh and saw we were getting pov characters in fuller cabins. And especially cabins who especially are rebuilding themselves again. And it's just... not really explored. Heck, pretty sure Leo is the only one of the two who actually mentions missing his siblings. And that still isn't followed through(heck. He immediately leaves them again after he just returned to camp after dieing. He just leaves and finds another place and family as if his siblings hadn't been a wreck missing him. )

But yeah. Jake dealing with his own emotions over Beckendorf's death and how it spiraled into Apathy with his depression.

And honestly just exploring his very obvious depression in general, because my mind just met Leo and was like "Yeah I'm your Head Counselor... for now."

I might go over that in a later post because oh my gods-

Also,I love the idea of him being friends with Will, and maybe even the only one of the other Head Counselors he actually interacts well with. Part the reason why Will is chosen to show Leo to his cabin because Annabeth knew Will and Jake were a bit closer and Will probably had better time helping Leo get introduced to his older brother and other siblings before leaving them to show Leo around.

Not only had he lost a older brother in a similar way as him, but also he probably had plenty of interactions with Will with all the injuries going on.

Anyway. Jake thoughts cause he deserved better.

At least we got him being canonically queer. Gods bless him for being in the closet as well during all of that. Hdydg

[queen0fm0nsterz]

The Maw makes much more sense when you think of it as an extension of the lady. She strips the kids out of their individuality and makes them all look like as she transforms them into working drones.

In a way it paralells what she did to herself , doesn't it?

(From my very sane Lady post [×75])

Yes! This is exactly what I think, but most importantly, it goes both ways. The Maw is an extension of her, but the Lady is an extension of the Maw. She's the symbol that rappresents it and everything that comes with it -- for better and for worse. And there is very little "better" to be had in these circumstances, if none at all.

Honestly, even considering the issues she does have, ultimately she's the one that got the most lenient treatment. It depends on points of view of course - I don't know how bearing the generational curse would be an ideal living condition in any other setting - but considering she has a roof over her head, constant feeding and revenue as well as the fame all around the Nowhere (in all instances of visual storytelling in the franchise there is at least one reference to the Maw and/or to her), you can't say she got the short end of the stick. She's a lot better off than even other adults.

So with this in mind, and knowing that she is someone who is able to form these reasonings (I cannot stress enough how peculiar that she's the only one who seems to understand genuinely that something in the outside world is wrong), I suppose that weighing her options and choosing to live on the Maw was ultimately what she thought was the better choice. She wasn't wrong, necessarely. She did survive a long time: but what point is there in surviving if you lose what makes life worth living along the way? If you don't have yourself, why should you keep pressing on?

I think this reasoning is what led her to form this attachment to the Maw, to the point that eventually she died for it even though her primary objective was survival, at some point in the past. Probably.

Mervik confirming that the Maw has existed before her was, at least for me, even a further look into just how futile - and interesting - this mindset of hers is because at the end of the day, the Lady as a person is... disposable. The position isn't, but the individual is. The Maw existed long before her, and it will exist long after if Six decides to stay. It doesn't matter whether or not she sees it as her home because to the institution Maw, she's just another chess piece - as expendable as a pawn in spite of dressing the clothes of the queen, if you will.

Considering this... only adds insult to injury, don't you think? She lost herself to a place that did not care for her at all, in the grand scheme of things. She is to the Maw what children are to her: a parasite. A useful one to keep the system running, but ultimately destined to be eradicated and forgotten. Faceless and nameless. It's like she - the person - was never even there to begin with.