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adenei · 3 years

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Summer of Jily - Week 7

Yahoo! I'm all caught up for @efkgirldetective's summer of Jily Challenge!

This week's prompts: Ice cream and "I don't want anyone touching you like I do"

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Two days passed since their impromptu first date in the coziness of the cabin, and things could not be better. At least, that’s what James thought. The only snafu in the plan was that neither he nor Lily had discussed telling their friends about the relationship. Stolen moments alone were spent enjoying each other’s company while keeping an ear out for anyone who might intrude on their private time together.

They were no closer to coming up with a way of revealing their relationship, and if James was being honest, he quite liked the thrill of keeping his girlfriend, Lily, a secret from the Marauders. Sirius would probably hex him into tomorrow if he found out James was hiding something, but he would deal with that when the time came.

After two days of rain, the weather had finally cleared up, and the boys found themselves roaming up and down the main street of town while the girls were off shopping.

“Honestly, how much shopping can they possibly do?” Peter asked as he plopped down on a bench.

“With Mary and Marlene at the helm? It’s safer not to ask,” Remus thought out loud.

“It’s been two hours, and they’ve still got another half hour before they’re due to meet us for that picture show Mary’s been droning on about,” Sirius pointed out.

In an effort to avoid his friends’ complaints, James looked around the area for something to pass their time. His eyes settled on an ice cream shop across the street.

“Well, we could either sit here or go get some ice cream over there at that shop,” James suggested.

Peter perked up at the mention of ice cream while Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. Sirius was the only one to verbalize his agreement as he stood and led their way to the shop, his mood much brighter than moments ago.

“I could go for some ice cream! I prefer Muggle cotton candy ice cream to Fortescue’s strawberry peanut butter any day.”

The rest of the Marauders followed and approached the queue. They stood behind an older couple and waited. James continued to observe their surroundings, hoping that the girls might appear. He already missed Lily despite only being separated for a couple hours. As he was scanning the area, a group of girls who looked to be around their age joined the queue behind them, which Sirius was quick to point out.

“Look how hot that lot is, mate.”

James nodded, though he didn’t take the time to check them out. He was about to change the subject when one of the girls took notice of them and giggled. The sound caught his attention and distracted his attention. One of the girls was eyeing him; she was blonde with bright blue eyes and a petite frame, certainly attractive, but no longer his type. His type was Lily Evans, plain and simple.

He flashed a polite smile, then averted his gaze as the queue moved up. The boys were called up to the next window to order, and he was happy to put some distance between them and the group behind. Knowing it was easier for them all to order and have one person pay, James placed his order first and then turned to have the others follow suit. He dug out his muggle money to handle the transaction while the rest of the Marauders moved over to the pick-up window to wait for their treats.

“This is so different from Fortescue’s. Why can’t we watch them prepare it?” Peter whined.

“You mean scoop ice cream into cones and dishes and hand it to you? Beats me,” Sirius chided.

“He has a point, Pads. It’s interesting to watch sometimes,” Remus defended Peter’s observation as James chuckled.

“Yeah, beats waiting around having to make small talk with you,” he joked.

“Large cotton candy?” called the attendant from the window.

Sirius leaped up to claim his ice cream, looking like a kid in a candy store upon his return.

“Care to share a lick?” James teased as he leaned in to try and swipe a bite before Sirius had a chance to dig in.

“Not a chance!” Sirius guarded his cone as the attendant called out again.

“Crazy vanilla!”

“Ooh, that’s me!” Peter clapped his hands and went to collect his order.

Remus looked at James and Sirius. “Does he realize that that flavor is just vanilla ice cream but dyed different colors?”

“Shh, don’t ruin it for him, Moony!” Sirius waved him off. As Peter returned to the group, Sirius waved him along. “C’mon Wormtail, let’s go snag that table over there while these two wait for their more complicated orders.”

They took off while James and Remus continued to wait.

“Hot fudge sundae!”

“That’s me!” James jumped forward, approaching the window at the same time as the blonde who was checking him out earlier, and both reached for the same dish.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

“No, no, go ahead,” James took the dish and handed it to her. “You’ve got good taste,” he added with a polite smile.

“So do you,” she smiled back. “Are you on holiday with your mates?”

Her inquiry takes James by surprise, but he supposes a bit of small talk can’t hurt. “Er, yeah. We’re staying in a cabin on the lake.”

“Oh, us too! On the north or south side?”

“Er, north, I think?”

James wasn’t sure if he was being honest, but it wasn’t like they were going to run into the girl again, so a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“Same for us! I’m Elaine, by the way.” She held out her hand with the introduction.

“James,” he responded, reaching out to give her hand a quick shake.

“Say, what are you doing tonight? We could get together for a fire or something?”

Unfortunately, it looked like his willing response gave the wrong impression as the girl to the opportunity to ask him out. Her smile had turned seductive and James realized a moment too late that she was flirting. Had he really lost his game so quickly since making a go of things with Lily?

Another hot fudge sundae order was called along with Remus’s chocolate milkshake. James was about to excuse himself to grab his ice cream when Remus appeared out of nowhere.

“I’ve got this, mate.”

“Oh, er, thanks.” James grimaced.

Because Remus didn’t know about Lily, he didn’t know that James needed the ice cream as an excuse to get out of this.

Of all the times Remus decided to urge me on.

“It’ll be a fun time, I promise,” Elaine winked. “Come with me to our table and I can write down our address for you to meet us later. It won’t take long.”

The blonde reached out her free hand to graze James’s forearm and lead him to the table her friends had occupied. He followed since he couldn’t think of a way out of it. At least the solution after this point was easy. He’d thank her, make a false promise to show up, and then never follow through.

He wasn’t expecting Elaine to keep hold of his arm, and the feeling sent prickles of discomfort through the rest of his body. James wasn’t even aware that the girl was still chattering away as he was still thinking of a way to get back to his friends, and hoping Lily was still on the opposite side of town so they wouldn’t get in a row over this.

And that’s when he felt another hand grasp his opposite arm.

The feeling of the second touch was much warmer, searing his bicep as it pulled him away from the blonde with a force he wasn’t used to. As his body spun around he caught a flash of red hair before the second person’s lips were on his, the kiss deep and searing, taking him by surprise.

He was familiar with the feel of Lily’s lips by now, and forgetting that they were in public, James’s body melted into the embrace even though it was far from romantic and comforting. As Lily’s arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer, James realized she was staking her claim and it was hot. He felt the immediate arousal strain against his trousers as the thought of Lily’s jealousy sent a course of desire through his body.

It barely phased him that they were in a very public place, no doubt in front of all their friends. Yet, when the thought finally registered in his lust-filled brain, clarity sobered his body, replacing the desire with a nervous excitement.

So much for keeping things quiet.

When Lily pulled away, her gaze was fierce as she narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arms a bit harder while whispering in his ear, “I don’t want anyone else touching you like I do.”

Bloody hell, would it be improper to disapparate us back to the cabin to have my way with her right now?

Yes, yes it would. Stupid statute of secrecy.

The battle to act on his instincts versus do the right thing warred in his mind.

“And you,” Lily peered over his shoulder to the blonde who was standing behind them, mouth gaping open in surprise, “keep your hands off my boyfriend.”

“Your WHAT?!”

A chorus of shouts and shrieks escaped the mouths of their friends at Lily’s over-zealous warning.

“Looks like it’s not a secret anymore,” Lily shrugged as she pulled James back to their friends.

“Hmm, I was hoping that maybe they didn’t notice the public snog assault you just attacked me with,” James laughed. “You know I wasn’t going to do anything with her, right? She cornered me and Remus of all people helped her along. I couldn’t get away.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you. I just let my temper get the best of me, I suppose,” Lily admitted, though she didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I like Aggressive Lily. Maybe I’ll let other girls try and whisk me away more—”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, though the glint in her eye reassured him that she knew he was kidding.

“I suppose it’s time to face the onslaught of our friends, don’t you think?”

Lily sighed, “You’re sure we can’t just disapparate away instead?”

“I wish, but I’ve got a hot fudge sundae over there with my name on it. If you answer all the questions, though, I might be inclined to share.”

A devilish smirk crossed her lips as she dropped his hand and made a beeline for the table. “Not if I get there first!”

“Hey!”

James followed after her, knowing full well he’d share the ice cream with her regardless as they took turns answering their friends’ questions. Maybe it wasn’t the way James and Lily intended for the group to find out, but it certainly made for a good memory to look back on someday.

#summerofjily #jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic

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whaticannotshowyou · 3 years

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(this is, i think, the anon talking about permanent changes?? and fuck me for not saving what i was writing but the first half was essentially that i couldnt stop thinking about modern au geralt and jask in an m/s relationship, that geralt continued to slowly push beyond jaskier’s limits, so slowly that he didn’t think to question it- he wouldnt want to upset geralt and generally goes along with whatever he asks, whatever it is and whether or not he wants it..)

im thinking abt stuff like a permanent chastity cage w a catheter, getting teeth removed to suck dick better, all very Permanent things. it ends with him living in geralts secluded ass house in the woods 24/7 and essentially never leaving. he just becomes a toy that geralt owns n it all happened without jaskier necessarily wanting it or realizing thats what geralt was planning to do with him from the start. (2/2)

Okay okay so. I’ve been absolutely obsessed with this ever since I got it (SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY) and I just have to applaud you anon for literally having a rent free place in my brain for the past weeks. But I really like the concept, Geralt getting this absolutely stunning sub and starting a relationship with Jaskier, the guy a little too vanilla for his taste but... he can work on that.

They start with just the normal stuff; bondage, light painplay, some humiliation. It’s all things Jaskier can deal with. Sure, he isn’t the biggest fan of it all, not by any means, but he loves Geralt so much and is willing to try it out for him. Outside of play, Geralt is absolutely wonderful. He tells Jaskier he’s the best boy ever, holds him close and praises him for every single thing he went along with for his sake and Jaskier can’t help but crave the affection, agreeing to more and more things just to get that sweet praise and love from his boyfriend. It makes Geralt go down a darker route, cravings of his own surfacing as he hears his sub promise he will do anything for him.

They do some chastity, a little sounding, toys of increasing size, Jaskier wearing a plug in public, several hours of bondage. They transition into a free-use agreement, Geralt allowed to bend him over at any point of the day and have him, sometimes dragging him away in public to fuck him hard in a bathroom or some deserted hallway. The marks get increasingly more obvious, bitemarks and hickeys almost impossible to hide under clothes and Jaskier starts spending more time at home just to avoid the questions. He never thinks of asking Geralt to stop, loves how he is goowing with adoration with how good his sub is for him.

Eventually it’s been over a year and things have spiralled. What started as Jaskier avoiding social gatherings to not awake suspicion turns into him quitting his job and solely relying on Geralt. He soends more time in their playroom than anywhere else, just held open on toys and bound to the bed or wall until Geralt finds the time to use him. His two/three days in chastity for that added desperation is now permanent, his cock shrivelled up and tightly confined in a too small cage with a catheter allowing Geralt to decide when his bodily functions matter. They don’t care to let him walk around much, his legs weak and useless as he is tied up and carried around if needed.

Things gets even more out of hand when Geralt gives him a proper piercing through his cock, a few long rods going across his length to ensure the cage is not coming off without severe damage or his key. He makes a deal out of having Jaskier dispose of the key, smiles warmly and kisses his forehead as the sub happily throws it into the lake by the house. Maybe he even melts down some metal into the lock, ensuring it wont even be picked open. During a session one of Jaskier’s teeth fall out from a particularly heavy blow and Geralt praises him for it, offering he takes the rest out so he can please his cock fully. Jaskier doesn’t even think about it before nodding, his front row of teeth pulled out by the end of the day.

Who knows, Geralt might even do some good ol’ amputation on him. The slut doesn’t need his limbs anyway, just his holes ready to be fucked whenever Geralt wants to. He is just a little doll by now, unable to move around and thus negating any need for restraints. Even if he came to his right mind, Jaskier would never be able to escape now, just forever Geralt’s sweet little fucktoy that will never be the same ever again.

As an addition I do like to think Jaskier at some point realises what has been going on, how far Geralt have made him go. Either by himself, maybe remembering their first days together and then just fucking rioting when he can’t even speak properly, can’t move, can’t even piss on his own.

Or, even better, Geralt one day just carries him so he’s in front of a mirror, finally allowed to have his blondfold remived and he is just seeing what his life has become. Geralt’s cock inside of him, warming him up as Jaskier gasps for breath at his own mirrored image. He screams, struggles and protests, but there is nothing he can do as Geralt grabs his waist and fucks him hard, using him like a fleshlight on his hard cock and laughing at his attempts to come free. He tells him it has been his plan since the very start, that he knew he could break down Jaskier’s defence and make him into the perfect doll he always wanted. He recalls all those little tricks he used, how eager the man was to please him despite going far past his limits. He slaps his caged cock and reminds him the key is gone forever, the lock wielded shut. He can’t even release his bladder without Geralt’s permission. He holds his mouth open wide so he can see his missing teeth, can see just how absolutely messed up he has become. He let’s Jaskier go as he comes deeply within him, laughing mockingly as he struggles on the floor without his limbs.

Geralt crouches down next to him, smiling that heart melting smile and pets his hair so, so gently. “No one will ever want you like this, Jaskier, you do realise that? You’re just my little fleshlight to use whenever I want. You’re ruined. You are barely human. You’re mine, right?”

And all Jaskier can do is nod.

#answer #nc #tw #gr #misc #mc #au

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wewerenotthefirst · 7 years

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gercan (bakery au/accidental demon summoning au) -- but i know what’s in my heart

Matthew showed up after his rec league practice with a cooler of sandwiches, slipping in through the back door into the pantry where Ludwig’s cataloguing their remaining ingredients and what exactly they can make in the next two days, maybe three if their shipment is delayed anymore.

“We should be fine. But I want to buy extra flour on the way home,” Ludwig said when Matthew came to sit next to him, legs crossed, cooler in his lap. “I’m going to test a recipe tonight.”

“What is it?” Matthew held a sandwich out, and Ludwig really would rather not eat on the floor but he still needed to finish doing inventory, so he took the sandwich and settled against a container of sugar. Ludwig gave Matthew a faint, lingering smile and Matthew’s face lit up. “Ludwig, are you going to finally make tarte au sucre?“

“Yes. And I hope you have a good recipe.”

“I have the perfect one. This mother from Gatineau gave it to me in exchange for—“

Ludwig sighed, “Matthew…”

“Ludwig, I told you when we met. Middle-aged women are an overlooked niche when it comes to contracts. One of them gave me her timeshare in Boca Raton just so she could be at the top of a phone tree.”

Matthew shooed him out of the bakery, handing off his hockey gear to Ludwig as well, around 11 pm, offering to clean and prep and even start the baking schedule for the following week. Ludwig had a suspicion that cupcakes and stollen would feature predominately. Possibly hefekranz, too, because Gilbert’s been making noises about more items with less frosting and sugar, but that are still “cool.”

Ludwig’s apartment isn’t close to the bakery at all. It’s actually a 25-minute bus ride away. If he hadn’t sold his car (and Ludwig tries not to think too hard about the smart little coupe he used to drive) it might be faster, but that coupe was a remnant of a life Ludwig didn’t want to live anymore. Couldn’t live anymore.

(Matthew made it clear that he could bring back Ludwig’s coupe, the fancy downtown apartment and even a little extra—with no charge, Matthew insisted—but Ludwig couldn’t find it anywhere in him to agree. Matthew didn’t push.)

The night route was quiet, and Ludwig opened his phone to find a text from Matthew. It’s a sample menu—with cupcakes every day (vanilla, a chocolate variant, and something with fruit), stollen and hefekranz on Wednesday and Friday, and bundt cakes on Tuesday.

It’s something Ludwig would put together, and he texted Matthew, thanks.

Ludwig graduated at the top of his class, with a job offer that included a corner office thanks to an excellent internship and impeccable work ethic.

Four years later (three as lead counsel) and enough clients who saw less jail time than they should have, and Ludwig found himself stress-baking recipes from his childhood at 3 am. Flour dusted his thighs and tracked down his black dress pants. He hadn’t even changed after he got in, just hung his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and pulled out every baking pan in his apartment.

When he stopped, taking his first breath in what felt like hours, Ludwig bent over the mixing bowl, hands flat on the sleek countertop. His tie trailed through the mess of flour and sugar and vanilla. He had three trays of shortbread cookies in a row, apple cake in the oven, and the beginnings of cherry cake in the bowl.

“My client murdered two prostitutes and then his wife. He liked it. He became aroused while the medical examiner spoke.” Ludwig breathed out. “I threw my jacket over his lap so no one could see he was aroused.”

He repeated this until he left for work at 7 am. He quit at 7:20.

Gilbert told him to teach and almost—almost—cried when Ludwig told him he was going to open a bakery.

“They have a guest lecturer position available!” Gilbert shouted, gesturing with a tiny apple tart. Ludwig sliced the apple thinly and spread it, fan-like, across the surface, and he’s sure Gilbert didn’t appreciate it now as much as he did when Ludwig showed up with a platter full. “You can turn that into a permanent position, Ludwig! You can do anything!”

“So I can open a bakery,” Ludwig said, mildly. He’s been taller than Gilbert since he was 16, but he feels very small now, in front of his brother’s furious confusion.

Gilbert just stared at him. He scrubbed at his eyes, and then his shoulders just fell. He sighed, “Yeah. You can open a bakery.”

Ludwig never told Gilbert why a bakery, and he never will. Gilbert already teased him enough about Matthew. He would never let Ludwig live down the fact that Matthew was the one to convince him.

“You could sell these,” Matthew had told him, two slices of lemon bundt cake in hand. They’re frosted, speckled with little bits of candied lemon that Ludwig painstakingly chopped until each piece was a sliver. The effect was lovely.

Matthew ate the frosted parts first. There’s still a circle of scorched tile around his feet and Ludwig’s entire apartment smelled like ash and sulfur.

“Have you considered that? You could a success. You could have the best reviews on Yelp.”

Ludwig just stared at him, pressed against his dining table, while Matthew stared back.

“You don’t have to give me your soul, if that’s your concern. You could just give me the recipe for this,” Matthew said with a smile, holding up the cake in his hands. “I love recipes. In fact, the recipes in that,” He nodded at the cooking book Gilbert had, in a very well meaning moment, gifted him after finding it at a used bookstore. Ludwig honestly didn’t expected a faded red book with pie recipes that still required suet to summon a demon, and yet—“are all mine. I wrote it. I wonder how it got here. The last time I was summoned was in Calgary.”

“How can a cookbook summon you?”

“It’s actually quite simple. It’s the recipe,” Matthew replied, pushing himself onto the counter. Ludwig grimaced and moved to tell him off, but Matthew was already talking again and oblivious to Ludwig’s distress, “Not everyone decides to make clafoutis. If you tried to make lemon meringue or black forest cake, I’d show up, too. Actually, any pie recipe would summon me. On your third reading, I show up.” The demon gave him a bright smile. “The baker is usually at their wit’s end, would do anything to get the recipe just right.”

The demon’s smile faded. “It’s actually worrying how many middle-aged women give me their souls just to show up Brenda or Karen at a bake sale. Or fair. It’s really an overlooked niche.”

“You take advantage of them.”

“I’m a demon,” Matthew explained. “Also, I don’t ask for their soul. People just offer it. Immediately. I haven’t asked for a soul since the 1500s.”

“I’m not giving you my soul. In fact, I don’t want,” Ludwig paused, wondering how to politely send away the demon, “Please just go.”

Matthew said nothing. But slowly his face began to color, cheeks blotching red, and his eyes widened. They shone.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Matthew said then, looking away. His hair hid his expression, and Ludwig suddenly felt terrible.

Before Matthew left, however, he said, “But I meant it. You should open a bakery.”

The next week, after Ludwig talked to Gilbert, he opened the cookbook to the first pie recipe and started.

An hour later, Matthew appeared. He was wearing a thick wool sweater, expression wary. It turned curious when Ludwig spoke.

“I’m going to open a bakery,” Ludwig told him. “I don’t want any contract. I just wanted you to know.”

That’s how Ludwig went into business with a demon. And gained a roommate.

“Is your head a field of flowers?!” Alfred had howled when he first met Ludwig, four months after their bakery’s grand opening. Rounding on his brother, the other demon took Matthew’s face in his hands. “You went into business with a human without getting his soul?”

Ludwig, still holding a frosting pipe, wanted to get back to the chocolate truffle cupcakes he was icing but Matthew’s face was distressed and furious and Ludwig was worried for him. And his floor and walls.

The marks from Matthew’s first visits were the reason why Ludwig never got his deposit back from his old apartment.

“Arthur said we need to expand our portfolios! To be creative!”

“He meant stop resorting to natural disasters at the end of each quarter to fill quotas! Not get a human boyfriend and start a bakery!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Matthew snapped, cheeks pink, slapping Alfred’s hands away. “Besides, even if you collected one soul everyday for the next century, you still wouldn’t come near my records so stop ruining this like you ruin everything!”

“Do you even know the probability of this bakery staying in business? The cupcake bubble has burst!”

“I know! I remember you crying about that op-ed in the New York Times!”

Ludwig watched helplessly at the two demons standing toe-to-toe and yelling, each response a little crueler than the last. Both were also tearful.

He never expected agents of hell to be so emotional. He sighed, and just brought the cupcakes to the front counter to decorate.

They hired one human employee and, later, one demon. Both were competent bakers. Both had flawless customer service skills. Neither had a taste for human flesh.

(“Most demons don’t eat humans anymore,” Matthew explained. “I think it’s the increased radiation.” At Ludwig’s look of horror, he added, “I never ate humans. Alfred has, so don’t believe him if he says otherwise.”)

In short, Ludwig would trust his employees to run the bakery while he and Matthew worked on new creations in the kitchen.

“Mango coriander pound cake cupcakes,” Matthew suggested, legs swinging, chin propped up in his hands. “Gingerbread orange. Caramel pear. Almond fig. Lavender—“

“Matthew, we can’t just have cupcakes.” Ludwig couldn’t help but smile. Matthew sighed, tucked a curling strand of hair behind his ear and just looked at Ludwig for a moment.

His eyes were soft, fond and impenetrably violet in the bright kitchen lights. Ludwig’s heart stuttered, and Matthew ducked his head.

He continued, after a moment, “Lime bars. Coconut cashew chocolate oatmeal bars. Tarte au sucre?”

“This is my…my Arthur,” Matthew had said, smile shy and small, as he introduced Arthur. His Arthur, the demon who raised him.

Matthew’s Arthur looked nothing like the Arthur Matthew introduced earlier.

“So you’re his Ludwig.” Arthur’s tone was flat and he looked Ludwig up and down. He was still wearing the trousers and sweater from earlier, but instead of looking fatherly and polite, he looked borderline contemptuous. He circled Ludwig. “In my experience, only one sort of human enters into business with a demon. And they’re usually worse than the demon.”

Matthew never discussed what he did as a demon or even what he did when he wasn’t at the bakery or apartment or hockey practice. Ludwig would never ask Matthew to give up his privacy, especially when Matthew never pushed him for anything.

“You must understand why I’m curious.” Arthur’s gaze was narrow and assessing. “But I’ll wait.”

The next day Ludwig made earl grey cupcakes with lavender frosting, mince pies (using suet), and devil’s food cake cupcakes along with the hefekranz and lemon bundt cake that was a daily offering.

Matthew looked equal parts delighted and nervous when Arthur approached the counter and quirked a brow at the offerings. He ended up trying one of each, including each flavor of madeleine when Matthew excitedly mentioned that he helped make them.

“I hope you only poured the batter, my boy. Your baking is as bad as my cooking,” Arthur sighed, a small but affectionate smile appearing for a moment when Matthew led him, by arm, to a table in the corner.

Ludwig watched Matthew’s head tilt toward Arthur’s, laughing, clear and sweet, at something Arthur probably said. He watched for a moment longer.

When Ludwig baked at home, Matthew was usually at his elbow or perched on the counter top, heels against the cupboard. Ludwig could never really tell him to get down, so he ended up having Matthew hold the cookbook or read him parts of the recipe.

“I picked up some raspberries,” Matthew said when Ludwig stopped the mixer. “We can do small raspberry pound cakes. Heart-shaped sugar cookies and short bread.”

“For Valentine’s?” Ludwig asked. Matthew nodded. “The third cupcake should be a red velvet.

His new kitchen was smaller, cozier, crowded with two stand mixers and the biggest stretch of countertop between them. Matthew’s spot was by the stove and Ludwig’s usually no more than an arm’s reach away. As a result, the two of them are more or less in each other’s space and when Ludwig would look up, he could see the sweep of Matthew’s eyelashes and the freckles on his nose.

Matthew met his gaze and flushed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and Ludwig busied himself with the mixer again.

“He used to bake with our cousin, Roderich. A real prissy bastard. But he could make a deadly sachertorte. Ludwig’s amazing, but that’s one recipe he hasn’t gotten yet.”

Gilbert stopped by the bakery once a week on his way from work. In fact, it was thanks to Gilbert that the bakery saw a surge in business after a few slow, early months. He would stop by in the morning and take an assortment of breads and muffins to work and leave them in lounges around campus with a pile of business cards for the bakery.

Matthew looked forward to each of Gilbert’s visits. As for Gilbert, Ludwig bet that the allure of having an eager, attentive audience in Matthew was just as good as the pretzels Ludwig finally added.

The bakery is finally quiet, half an hour before close. The after-work rush ended 11 minutes ago, and Ludwig has Manon and John decide who starts the dishes and who does the week’s inventory while he counts down the register. Usually Matthew would, but entertaining Gilbert is more difficult than anything else so Ludwig leaves him.

Now the pair has moved on to pictures, of Ludwig, of Gilbert, of their childhood. Matthew has seen them before, but each time Gilbert offered to bring them out (because they’re on his phone, of course), Matthew agreed.

“Ludwig was a cute kid. Really serious. I used to beg him to break a few things, get some dirt on his shirt. But even after baking with Roderich, he’d be immaculate while the rest of the kitchen was a wreck.” Gilbert grinned and Matthew inched closer, wordlessly asking for the phone.

Gilbert, of course, handed it over and let Matthew flip through the photos. With one arm over the back of his chair, Gilbert said, “You have any photos to share? I bet you were a cute kid, too.”

Matthew froze, and Ludwig stopped counting the change in the register to look at Matthew.

“My mother died when I was young,” Matthew began slowly, “My father worked. I was on my own a lot.”

Gilbert nodded, eyes flicking over Ludwig’s. But he just said, “It’s alright. Like I said, you were definitely a cute kid.”

Ludwig was testing an improved recipe for white chocolate cream cheese frosting at home when Matthew said, “My mother promised my soul to another demon. But, then there was, uh, a minor civil war in hell and Arthur received me in the treaty. He visited me and asked if I wanted to have my soul back or if he could keep it in exchange for something else. He thought it was unfair that my mother signed me away.”

Matthew looked almost abashed when he continued, “I said he could keep my soul, so long as he didn’t lose it like Francis did.”

“Why would you let him…” Ludwig trailed off, putting down the spatula he was using to fold in extra powdered sugar.

“I was alone, Ludwig. And Arthur gave me a choice. I always had a choice.”

Ludwig had nothing to say to that. But he touched Matthew’s wrist, fingers brushing against the paper-thin skin over his veins. And Matthew smiled.

Arthur repaid Matthew’s loyalty, support, and affection with loyalty, support, and affection. He was given his preferred regions to collect souls. He tolerated Matthew’s periods of inactivity, periods where Matthew decided to travel and go to school and start a bakery with a human. He passed an edict, promising to personally uphold Matthew’s demands that no one use the bakery to form contracts or target its workers. Customers were fair game outside the bakery, but not within that part of the city.

“Matthew sided with Arthur in every major conflict, including the one where I left to rule my own part of Hell,” Alfred explained, helping himself to leftover candied bacon. “It looks like no one’s home, you know, when he smiles or just looks at you, but Matthew’s a real bastard on the battlefield. He’s vicious. Scorched earth and shit.”

Flatly, Ludwig said, “I can’t imagine that.”

Alfred grinned at him, popping another piece of bacon into his mouth. “You’ve never seen him play hockey, huh?”

Matthew tried very hard to deter Ludwig from coming to his next game. He glowered at Alfred, who looked entirely too excited and unrepentant, and was even snappish toward Ludwig, who brought mini cupcakes for the entire team.

“This is embarrassing,” Matthew hissed before going to join his team.

Ten minutes in to the game, Matthew was sent to the penalty box for cross checking someone in the stomach.

“Oh,” Ludwig murmured, box of cupcakes on his lap, and Alfred whooping next to him. “I can imagine it.”

“He once did that once with a saber, but to someone’s face,” the demon shouted.

“Wait, Matthew lives with you? Where does he sleep?” Gilbert asked, looking up from his meatloaf at Ludwig and then Matthew.

Ludwig went completely rigid. Matthew responded by taking a huge bite of meatloaf and broccoli and let Ludwig flounder for an answer.

“Don’t make it inappropriate!” Ludwig knew, before he was even finished speaking, that he chose the wrong response.

Gilbert’s smirk was terrifying.

(“Why didn’t you tell him I sleep on the couch?” “Why didn’t you?!”)

Their bakery didn’t have the highest rating on Yelp, but they’re on the Top Ten list and have dozens of rave reviews. Tourists visit their hole-in-the-wall bakery, take pictures of themselves with the exposed brick walls in the background the their tables cluttered with plates of treats.

Matthew insisted he had no hand in their success, but Ludwig corrected him.

“The bakery wouldn’t be here without you.”

The demon blushed, bright red across his face and down his neck and up his ears, and Ludwig, not for the first time, wanted to kiss him.

The morning of Valentine’s Day Ludwig and Matthew decorated the sugar cookies, side-by-side. Ludwig alternated between red and pink frosting while Matthew sprinkled pastel pink sanding sugar on a batch of sugar cookies with white frosting.

It took a few times, and Ludwig’s heart was thudding in his chest, but he finally got the words out. He’d been practicing them all morning. “Matthew. We sleep in the same bed. We’re talking about getting a dog. I never took tarte au sucre off the menu. We’re up to four cupcakes instead of three. We fought over the Christmas menu and you left but you showed up before Arthur killed me—“

“Ludwig, you’re rambling.” Matthew looked worried. He still had a pinch of pink sanding sugar between his fingers and Ludwig still has to cut the clafoutis and check on the raspberry pound cake but Matthew is reaching up to touch his forehead, with his sugared hand. Ludwig could feel the streak of sugar against his temple as Matthew peered into his eyes. “I told you to go to bed early. Manon and John are great, but they’re not ready to do the bulk of the baking. Although, we could use another baker. Maybe in a month or so—“

“Now who’s rambling?” Ludwig closed his eyes. Matthew’s fingertips were still by his hairline and he could feel Matthew’s eyes on his face.

“Ludwig?”

“May I kiss you Matthew?”

Matthew didn’t respond. He just kissed Ludwig.

#gercan #gercanada #ludwig acidentally summons a demon and then opens a bakery with him #aph: germany #aph: canada #aph: america #aph: prussia #aph: england #the reason why ludwig left law is definitely ripped straight from law & order #dun dun

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