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Ahhhh i'm so into your baker/mob boss au!!! can I get like their first meeting or something please and thank you

[Mob boss/Baker AU]

Harry’s craving something sweet. He always does, when he kills someone, and another mob boss had killed the last baker Harry had gotten his sweets from - and really, that had just been petty, Stefano had done nothing wrong, he didn’t even know what Harry did for work - which means now he’s gotta find a new baker or candy maker that’s open this late.

He could always go to a supermarket and get packed candy, but that’s never one tenth as good as it is freshly made, so Harry hates it. Plus, he likes to support local businesses. He’s not all bad.

He pulls up in front of a small, brightly lit store. It’s in the middle of London, where all the pubs and shops are; Harry does his best to stay away from crowded places like these, but the place opened a few days ago and is already a favorite between locals - including Hermione, who has already become friends with the owner - so Harry’s going to make himself at least check it out.

The front door says they’re open from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. and though it’s at least eleven, the place is entirely lit up and Harry can see a person inside, behind the counter. He pushes at the door, and a little bell ring as it opens.

He steps inside.

“Hello,” He says. The man at the counter - of whom Harry can only see the top of his hair - in a net - since he’s bent over three chocolate trays, working closely - seems too distracted to hear him. “I, uh. Is it open?”

He’s a mob boss, sure, but he’s not impolite. Service workers have it hard enough as it is, Harry doesn’t want to be one of those asshole costumers that demands service whenever and wherever just because he’s paying.

The man doesn’t even look up.

Harry steps closer, and it isn’t until he places his hand on the counter that the man looks up, startled. Harry’s breath stutters; he’s gorgeous, with white blonde hair and pale gray eyes. When he flushes and takes off the face mask he’s wearing, he has the most beautiful pink lips, with a lovely cupid’s bow that Harry wants to bite.

“Hi,” Harry says, smiling. As much as he wants to take this man home, he won’t. He needs his daily does of sugar, and he cannot get it if he sleeps with the candy maker and then never calls him again. If this man’s candy is even half as good as it’s supposed to be, Harry’s not willing to make the trade. “Can I order something?”

The man looks at his watch, the sign at the door, but then shrugs and nods, smiling brightly.

“I, uh.” Harry hesitates, scanning the delicious looking chocolates on the counter, licking his lips at the pictures of products on the wall. He wants to try everything. “What’s your specialty?”

The baker - Draco, his name tag says - doesn’t say anything, and Harry looks up with raised eyebrows. Draco frowns lightly at the evident question, and then smiles sheepishly and points to the sign on the wall. 

It’s in bright pink with white letters, saying, ‘Hello. I’m deaf. Please look at me and speak clearly so I can read your lips.’

“Oh,” Harry says. “Oh. I’m sorry. I want whatever you recommend. All of it.”

Draco’s face brightens, evidently excited. He grabs a small bag and begins grabbing items from the counter and the display. From Hermione, Harry knows the shop always sells out, but she’d also told him that Draco bakes and makes chocolate at night to try new creations before putting them out for sale.

He watches Draco carefully pick the most beautiful chocolates of the one’s he’d made, at least six different kinds, and put them all in the paper bag he’s grabbed. Once he’s done, Draco grabs a small whiteboard sitting on the counter and writes something with blue marker. He shows it to Harry.

You have to tell me what you think, he says. They’re new.

“Alright,” Harry agrees, becoming more besotted by the second.

Draco hands him the bag, and Harry pays, and then he reaches inside and tries one of the chocolates.

It’s heavenly.

“This,” he says. “Is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Draco’s smile is blinding.

* 

Harry becomes something of an official taster for Draco after that; he always shows up late at night, and Draco always stays open for him. They sit together in one of the tables - that Harry is quickly beginning to think of as their table - and Harry tries the things Draco’s made that day, and they talk, Draco reading Harry’s lips and answering through the whiteboard.

Harry begins taking sign language immediately - from Hermione, because of course she knows sign language - and though it’s slow, and probably rough around the edges, Draco’s face brightens more than Harry’s ever seen when he signs ‘H-e-l-l-o D-r-a-c-o’ slowly.

It’s the first time Draco hugs him.

Harry decides then and there that this is the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. He’ll make sure of it.

—————————————

I’d really forgotten how much I loved this AU :( thanks for reminding me babes!!

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Soulbands

Draco’s soulband had appeared overnight when he was almost two months old, his mother always said. That when she came to wake him up in the morning he had a red ring in the middle of his right pinky. Somehow Draco doubted that. Besides, the red is so dark it might as well be black, the enemy band. It was clear his mother had worried about that too. She’d gotten it examined when he was home from school in first year. It didn’t help that visible before bonding soulbands were rare, and generally, a way to show how pureblood one was. Changing soulbands were even rarer and Draco wasn’t happy about it. 

People so full of freckles not knowing which one was the mark for their soul mark, people with no marks at all. People with only one mark considering themselves incredibly happy. Pureblood people who are full of freckles, like the Weasleys but also have visible soulbands and being equally happy about it. 

When Draco came back from Christmas in second year he saw Harry Potter’s pinky for the first time in a long while. There was a band there, the colour identical to Draco’s. He was sure there were several people with soulbands around their pinkies but Draco knew.

He told his mother about his theory but she said it was impossible since they both were males. His father kindly reminding her of the existence of queer people. 

His father had not approved either, but accepting it and approving it are different things. 

They’d had a long talk about that he still needed to produce an heir, no matter soulmate. His mother, however, looked at him like she’d failed, she made it very clear that she still loved him but also made it clear that producing a queer heir wasn’t what she intended.

They didn’t tell Voldemort about Draco’s afflictions towards Harry Potter.

Harry dated Cho and Ginny knowing they weren’t his soulmate. Draco couldn’t sleep.

Harry cursed him, Draco had to stay in the hospital wing for a week, the scars were irreversible and had joined his dark mark in permanent things on his body he hadn’t asked for. They were comforting though, however, his soulband had gone black. 

Draco hadn’t realised he’d fallen in love. And nobody had cared to tell him either. But easter 1998 had rolled around and Draco couldn’t give them Harry’s identity.  He had to but he couldn’t. Harry Potter was a name he said often. But he found that he couldn’t. Because if Harry died, something in him would die too.

He’d looked at Harry’s hand, looked at his left pinky, the band there, black with tints of red. He almost cried. 

The torture he endured from Voldemort afterwards was worth it. 

Draco had clung to Harry’s body on the broom, he’d cried, he was overwhelmed, tired, held himself together with the string of fate that was between him and Harry. In the last days, his band had started spotting clear reds. 

His mother didn’t give him up, knowing the depression her beloved son would be put it. 

Draco threw him his wand, Harry Potter couldn’t die.

In the summer of 2000, they were both at a midsummer celebration at Luna’s place. It was the first time they’d seen each other after Draco’s trial. The rest of the company was outside, Draco sat on the spiral staircase, staring out into space. Harry had sat down next to him, hugging his knees.

“I know,” he’d said and Draco had been confused. “What?” Harry had shrugged, “we’re soulmates aren’t we?” Suddenly Draco couldn’t breathe, he knew, “I think so, yeah,” Draco had laughed sadly, studying Harry’s face. Harry, the gentleman, held out his pinky and Draco hooked his own around Harry’s. They glowed for what seemed like forever before they finally settled down with a bright red. 

Harry didn’t let go but let their pinkies stay hooked. “How long have you known?” he asked, Draco shrugged, “since winter in second year,” Harry, now wide-eyed looked down at their fingers linked together and up at Draco again. “Why didn’t you say anything,” Draco retreated his pinky and looked out the window, “you’d hate me more,” after a beat of silence he continued, “Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate and knowing who they are? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s… it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried… but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.” He stood, walked down to the bottom of the stairs before turning around, Harry hadn’t said anything, hadn’t tried to stop him, just, looked at him, “I’ve loved you since we were 13,” he held his right hand close to his chest, guarding it, “but you, you’re Harry Potter and you-” he cut himself off, biting his lip, looked over at Harry, “you, you deserve so much better than me,” 

He was at the door when Harry spoke up, “but I want you,” Draco stopped, sighed, “no, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry was now right behind him, “you don’t even know me,” Draco said, now turning, Harry took his hand, “then let me get to know you,” he smiled, running his thumb over Draco’s soulband, “let me wake up next to you, hang out with you, laugh with you, live with you,” Harry now took both Draco’s hands in his own, “let us blow the world away with whatever this soulbond thing comes with,” Harry whispered, fuck, Draco thought, this man will be the death of me, Draco smiled, grabbing Harry’s face gently, their lips met and it felt like home. They were together and they were home.

//Just a little drabble for y’all, hope you like it :)). Totally didn’t ignore my schoolwork for this ;).

Word count: 979

Zai: out.

Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

i feel like Draco would start saying ‘my husband will hear about this’ instead of father, just so everyone would know that he is married to the great and mighty Harry Potter, therefore his word is god.

The Mandalorian x The Last of Us by stillindigo

Thor ragnarok deleted scene 

I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.