#danish!reader

[hoe4hotchner]

As a fellow Danish Hotch enjoyer (han er min lille pookie) , I need Hotch x Danish reader who starts speaking Danish when she gets tired. She also keeps insisting that Jack should watch Kaj og Andrea.

Bakke snagvendt | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Danish fem!reader | WC: 1.5k | CW: Fluff

A/N: I LOVE THIS!!!! Honestly I think I have the puppets laying somewhere in my parents' house.

This is very niche, so I added translations to the parts in danish ;)

The first time you slipped into Danish around Aaron, he didn’t interrupt. The silence of his response was as gentle as the moment itself. You were sprawled across his couch, your feet tucked beneath a soft blanket he kept draped over the armrest. Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you deeper and deeper into sleep as your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow from a single lamp, casting warm shadows across the carpeted floor. In the background, a crime documentary droned on the television, which you were surprised he had agreed to watch with you given his job.

An hour earlier, you’d been sitting cross-legged on Jack’s bed, reading Where the Wild Things Are to him with an exaggerated, vaguely British accent that sent him into fits of giggles. His laughter had echoed through the small bedroom, his small hands clutching the edges of his dinosaur-patterned duvet as he begged for “just one more page.”

Now, with Jack tucked in and the apartment settled into silence, you felt the weight of the day pulling you under. Your lips parted, and a string of words spilled out, soft and slurred, utterly incomprehensible to Aaron’s tired ears.

“–jeg kan ikke holde mine øjne åbne længere, de er tunge som bly–” (I can't keep my eyes open anymore, they're as heavy as lead)

Aaron blinked, his eyes flickering with curiosity as he tilted his head slightly, trying to parse the unfamiliar syllables. “What was that?” he asked, his voice low, careful not to disturb the peace of the moment.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you let out a contented sigh, your body sinking deeper into his side, your murmurs fading into a quiet mumble. The cadence of your voice was different in Danish–softer, more melodic, the consonants rounded and gentle.

Aaron didn’t press further. He watched you, the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your fingers curled loosely around the edge of the blanket. There was something intimate about it, the way your mother tongue surfaced when your defenses were down. He didn’t understand the words, but he didn’t need to.

It wasn’t until a week later, in the midst of a different kind of chaos, that he brought it up. The living room was a battlefield of LEGO pieces, scattered across the rug like colorful shrapnel. You were sprawled on the floor, one of his old academy shirts on, its hem brushing your thighs as you sat cross-legged beside Jack. The two of you were deep in the construction of a LEGO dinosaur, a T-Rex with a wobbly head and a tail that kept snapping off.

Your eyes were pink-rimmed from a long day at work, but you were patient, handing Jack pieces and offering quiet encouragement as he debated where the next block should go.

Jack had scampered off to brush his teeth, leaving you alone with the half-built creature. You slumped against the base of the couch, the T-Rex dangling from your hand as you muttered to yourself, “Det giver ingen mening, LEGO er i mit DNA!” (It makes no sense, LEGO is in my DNA!)

Aaron, seated in his armchair with a newspaper spread across his lap, lowered the pages just enough to peer at you over the top. “Sweetheart?” he called, his voice carrying that familiar mix of amusement and affection.

“Hm?” you replied, your head tilting lazily toward him, your expression dazed and dreamy.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Doing what?” you asked, blinking as if your brain was slowly rebooting.

He folded the newspaper with care, setting it aside before crossing the room to kneel beside you. His hand found your hair, his fingers brushing it back from your face with a tenderness that felt like it belonged to a different world. “Speaking…Danish. I think,” he said, his smile widening just enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

You froze, your cheeks flushing a soft pink as realization dawned. “Oh,” you said, your voice small. “Sorry. I–I do that sometimes. When I’m tired.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his tone firm but warm, his thumb grazing your cheek. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you huffed, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curling into a reluctant smile. “Well. Det er fandme første gang nogen har sagt det.” (Damn, that's the first time anyone's ever said that.)

Aaron’s brow arched, his expression a mix of curiosity and mock suspicion. “I assume that wasn’t an insult.”

Your grin widened, bright and mischievous. “No. Just…never mind. You’re not ready for that one.”

It became a quiet thread woven into the fabric of your relationship, slipping into Danish when the world grew heavy or soft. It was never intentional, never a performance–just you, sleepy, your sweater slipping off one shoulder, your hair mussed from the couch pillow or the armrest of Aaron’s car.

The words mostly came in fragments, not full sentences, as if your brain relinquished its hold on English when exhaustion took over. Aaron began to notice the patterns: the way your voice softened, the way the Danish words carried a rhythm that felt like home to you, even if he couldn’t follow the meaning.

One evening, as summer bled into autumn, you were both out on the balcony, the air crisp and cool. You were curled up in a wicker chair, a glass of red wine cradled in your hands, the deep ruby liquid catching the light from the string of bulbs you had hung on the railing.

You were half-asleep, your head tipped back, when you mumbled, “Skal vi ikke bare gå i seng…” (Shouldn’t we just go to bed)

Aaron, seated beside you with a book he hadn’t been reading, glanced over and gently pried the wine glass from your fingers before it could tip.

“We will,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just one more minute.”

You nodded, your eyes closed, your lips curving into a faint smile, even though you hadn’t fully registered his words. He didn’t mind.

But then came your campaign, and with it, a new kind of chaos. It started one evening in the kitchen, the air thick with the scent of garlic and thyme as Aaron chopped vegetables for dinner. You leaned over the island, your elbows propped on the granite, your eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief that made Jack your instant ally.

“Jack,” you said, your voice low and conspiratorial, as if you were plotting a heist. “You know what you need to watch?”

Jack, perched on a stool with a glass of apple juice, leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. “What?”

“Kaj og Andrea,” you declared, with the gravitas of someone revealing a long-guarded secret.

Aaron paused, his knife hovering over a carrot. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone cautious, as if he sensed the tide turning against him.

“The best thing ever,” you said, straightening up and planting your hands on your hips. “It’s a Danish children’s show. About a frog and a parrot. They live in a little apartment and argue and eat popcorn. It’s iconic.”

Jack’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Can we watch it?” he asked, already sliding off the stool and making a beeline for the living room.

Aaron held up a hand, his expression a mix of skepticism and amusement. “Let’s…just take a moment. Is this in English?”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open, as if he’d just asked if the moon was made of cheese. “No. Of course not. It’s in Danish. That’s the whole charm.”

Jack, already halfway to the couch, called back, “I wanna watch the frog one!”

You shot Aaron a smug look, your eyes dancing with victory. “He’s a man of culture.”

Aaron gave you a long, measured look over the counter, his lips twitching. “If he starts mixing Danish with his math homework, that’s on you.”

“Helt fair,” (Fair enough) you said sweetly, batting your lashes. “You’ll just have to learn too.”

Later that night, long after Jack had been tucked into bed and the house had settled into its familiar quiet, you were curled up against Aaron in his bed. The soft glow of your phone illuminated your face as you scrolled through clips on YouTube, your enthusiasm undimmed despite the late hour.

You held the phone out to him, your eyes bright. “Just watch one clip. One. They sing about talking backward.”

Aaron took one look at the brightly colored puppets–a green frog with a lopsided grin and a parrot with a penchant for dramatic gestures–and shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m Danish,” you corrected, your voice thick with sleep as you yawned. “It’s worse, the Swedes would agree.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he pulled the blankets up higher around you, tucking them beneath your chin. “I wouldn’t change a thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Even when you started mumbling about frogs and parrots in Danish, your voice trailing off into soft, happy nonsense as you drifted to sleep against his chest, Aaron only smiled. He tightened his arms around you, holding you close, and let the unfamiliar words wash over him like a lullaby.

[rueclfer]

blueberry danish // touya todoroki smau

when a local bakery worker has a reason to clock in every morning

a/n: in honor of me getting employed at a bakery everyone manifest i meet a touya pleaaasseee ✊🏼

touya tag: @moonchild701

[snoevergarden]

Sweetheart

contents: Arrange marriage trope | Slow burn | Angst | One sided love? Part 3 to this

His birthday.

Kento never celebrated his birthday. He can't even remember if he ever celebrated it.

A drink and a book and maybe something sweet from the nearest bakery was enough.

It was just another day to him.

Even while being in a relationship, he didn't make a big deal about it. Because to him, it wasn't anything special.

Not to mention you two weren't exactly on...the same page.

You were being as distant as ever and Nanami craved more of you.

So when Nanami returned home to you wearing a cute frilly apron and flour smudged face, he was amused.

“Welcome home,” you smiled. “I ordered food and,” you pulled out a bag from his favorite bakery. “Tada! I got your favorite dessert. Happy birthday Kento.”

The smile on your flour smudged face ignited a warm feeling in Nanami's chest. After days, Nanami has seen you so bright, so happy and most importantly making a conversation with him. You thought of him, you got this all for him.

“You should freshen up, I'll be done here by then,” you sighed. “I hope.” “What are you making?,” he asked walking towards the kitchen counter. “Oh uh, I'm making milk bread.”

His favorite, you remembered.

“I hope I can make it, I'm awful at baking heh.”

It's the thought that counts, he thought to himself. “Let's bake together then.”

“Ehh but I wanted to surprise you,” you pouted. He smiled. “Baking together is more fun is it not?”

It is.

You loved baking but would always mess it up. But somehow with Kento you both were in sync. It was fun. But you being clumsy got flour in your hair as well.

It was like a kid's first time baking. Gentle smiles and giggles were heard in the kitchen.

For the first time it felt like a birthday celebration for Kento.

“I'll knead the bread.” Rolling your sleeves up, you started kneading. Your hair was a mess. Your bangs got in your way.

Kento gently put a strand of it behind your ear.

Your face heat up. “Thank you.” His touch brings warmth to you. If only he did it more often.

ᡣ𐭩

“Mm, it smells so good!” You were so happy with how it turned out. Even Nanami was proud of it.

A little candle was put beside the milk bread.

“I'm sorry I couldn't get you a proper gift this year. I'll do better next time.”

Better? You put so much thought into this. This is the first time in years his birthday feels slightly special.

“I appreciate everything you did today,” he said. “So please, don't be sorry.”

The way he looked at you with those warm gentle eyes and that smile..

“But, there is one gift I would like to claim from you,” he said, now standing up and walking over to you

“And what would that be?”

“This.”

Soft lips made their way to the plush of your cheek. The kiss was soft as if a flower petal touched your skin.

You stood frozen in the moment. Not being able to process what just happened.

“Thank you.”

[I feel like this was really badly written but late birthday post for Nanami. I love you 🍞 ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚]

Taglist > @brazenliar @erishishigami @ffyona1214 @patpatspatz @eliuriastwo @namikyento @keira80808 @midnightbarnes97

[jasmines-library]

hello darling🤭i live here now, hope you don’t mind🤭🙏

I was wondering if you would mind writing smth with the batfamily having a danish sibling, or maybe jason or dick having a gf who knits/crochets a lot, and then the gf shows up with personalised gifts for everyone?

this is oddly specific and you don’t have to do either but i’m addicted to your writing😞🙏

love, ur robin <3 !!!

Arts and Crafts

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Note: Hello my lovely! sorry this took a hot minute...I have so much in my inbox right now it's insane, but you guys are awesome. I hope this is okay, I tried my best with the Danish words, there aren't many of them and I also had to use online sources so I hope they're correct. Please tell me if they're wrong. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 0.9k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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“Move out of the way!” Dick barged past his brother who was clearing up the room much too slowly for his liking. He took the pile of books out of Damian’s hands and began placing them back on the shelf, making sure that each of the spines lined up perfectly.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I really don’t think she's going to notice if the spines aren’t matched up, Grayson.”

“You don’t know that.” Dick practically snapped as he darted across the room to adjust the curtains for the fiftieth time that day. 

You were coming over for dinner, and Dick felt the need to make sure that everything was perfect. It's not like you hadn’t met his family before. In fact, you often asked after his brothers and had spent countless hours chatting away to them over a good book or a movie. However this was the first time you had been around: you had caught a rather nasty cold and so had decided to stay home. But, being the perfectionist he is, Dick felt the need to make everything perfect for you. It was overkill in Damian’s opinion, but he just shrugged and let him get on with it. 

The doorbell rang and was shortly followed by the sound of Dick’s shoes against the wooden floorboards as he raced to beat Alfred to open it. When he did open it he was greeted by the sight of you smiling. You were bundled up in a coat and a scarf that covered the lower half of your face as you sheltered from the biting cold, but as you gazed up at him, he could see the corners of your lips turned up in one of your smiles that he loved dearly. 

"Min elskede.” You greeted him as he removed and hung up your coat as you unwound your scarf to hand beside it. 

“Hi my lovely.” He placed a kiss on your forehead softly. “What’s all that?” He asked, gesturing to the neatly wrapped gift parcels that were poking out of your bag.

“Gifts.” 

Dick turned it head. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged, picking up the bag with one hand and lacing the fingers on your other with Dicks. “I know, but I wanted to. Besides, I had plenty of time to do it.”

He kissed you again as he led you into the living room. “You’re too good for me.”

“Y/N!” Tim called out from across the room, standing up to hug you. He had grown rather fond of you. “How have you been? It’s so nice to see you again. I was beginning to think that Dick was going to go mad if he had to go another day without constantly seeing your face.”

“Hej, Tim. It’s good to see you too.” You chuckled.

Deciding to take a seat next to Dick after he informed you that dinner would be a little wait, you settled the bag between your legs, propping it up with your feet so that it didn’t fall over. At your arrival, the rest of the Wayne’s slowly made their way to the living room to catch up.

You pulled out the first gift from the pile. It was oddly shaped, wrapped in brown paper and adorned with a silk ribbon tied into a large bow. The gifts caught the boy’s eyes and they leaned closer as you handed them out: First to Damian, then Jason, Dick and Tim. You even had one for Bruce and Alfred, who were both out of the room for the moment, so you made a mental note to make sure you gave them theirs later. 

Damian tore into his first, peeling away the paper to reveal a black scarf, neatly stitched together with rows of red and green in interlocking loops. He unravelled it to reveal its full length and grinned at the delicate handiwork. 

“You made this?!” Damian exclaimed, turning it over in his hands. 

“Yep.” You hummed “I hope you like it.”

“I love it!” He ran over to embrace you in a hug.

Then came Jason who pulled out a red beanie you had crocheted, and Tim who you had crocheted a pair of fingerless gloves and a sleeve for his coffee cup to keep it warm. They were also both very appreciative and their smiles warmed your heart. 

Finally, Dick took time and care to untie the ribbon and peel open the wrapping paper. Inside was a black jumper that you had crocheted for him, on the top was his nightwing logo which you had surface crochet on the top of it. Along the sleeves, you had also added a strip of blue to add a pop of colour. You had been working on it for a little while now and had had a hard job trying to hide it from him whenever he came over. 

“You made this for me?” He asked.

“Of course.” You nodded. “I hope it fits-”

“It’s perfect.” he told you, slipping it on. It fit like a glove. “You didn’t need to do this, Y/n/n… you’ve outdone yourself.” he tugged you to his side tightly. 

“I’m so glad you like them.”

“We love anything you make. They’re amazing.”

“Tak.” You smiled, settling into his side, savouring the feeling of the soft wool against your cheek. He held you close, not quite believing how he had come so lucky to have a girlfriend quite like you.

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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[solelyseeking]

Did you know Tom Marvolo Riddle translates to Romeo G Detlev in Danish?

Having your name be literature's most yearning, pathetic and ardent lover in a language.... hmmmm...

You may be on to something

omg….

the danish took one look at that man and said “now THERE is an obsessed, charming, marked-by-death lover boy if i’ve ever seen one”

[h-l-v-kennedy-blog]

3 - Every night, I'm dancing with your ghost. Never got the chance. To say a last goodbye.

pairing: john f. kennedy/oc (princess anna) word count: 3, 354 summary: the princess meets two small, but darling royals in their own right, with the little prince becoming quite interested in her very quickly. new paths are forged and a friendship is formed. warnings: jack and other real people mentioned will be mildly out of character (this is purely on my interpertation of these historical people) at times, grammar errors, grief, but nothing much. a lighter part for once.

22nd July 1965

Her plane touched down on the airfield in Cape Cod. It was a smaller, chartered plane, nothing lavish, since no one really wanted the press to swarm the place.

Jack was standing with Caroline and John (who had insisted on going along with him to meet the princess that would their houseguest for a few days). He had decided to wear a light suit not wanting to look too casual, even if no cameras were present or watching. After all, his guest was royalty and he didn't want to look sloppy around her.

The white plane door opened, and there she was at the top of the stairs leading up to the plane. Dressed in a blue long-sleeve, and camel colored trousers, sunglasses perched on her hair, she appeared almost ordinary. Well, Harper's Bazaar cover 'ordinary', but still, not like…well a princess.

He heard John whisper to Caroline. "Are you sure she's a princess? She doesn't have a crown."

Jack chuckled, keeping his eyes on the princess.

Caroline leaned down to her brother and said. "Princesses don't wear crowns everywhere, John."

In a few moments, she was down the steps and towards the plane hangar, where two cars were waiting with Jack, his children and the Secret Service. Following after her was her private secretary…Jack forgot his name, but he saw how close he kept to the princess. Then came two guards of her own, at both her sides, with her private secretary two steps behind her.

So much for low-key, thought Jack.

Then he saw that learned smile of hers, the one he remembered from that night, flashing at him as she neared.

He reached out his hand diplomatically, and she shook it (although it did feel a bit awkward to do so).

Caroline followed, doing a little curtsy and looking shyly up at the princess. "Your Highness."

"You must be Caroline, pleasure to meet you." A small smile passed Caroline's face. "And you're John?"

"Hello. Where's your crown?" John, in earnest asked, unfiltered as children were.

Her Highness let out a laugh, and that quickly diffused any initial tension, because Jack couldn't help but join her, Caroline scowling at her brother (she had just moments ago explained why).

"Back in Denmark, I travel lightly." Her Highness answered. "But thank you for asking, no one rarely asks about my crowns."

The little boy looked very pleased at the praise and nodded, grasping at the princess' hand as she kneeled down to shake his hand too. It was quite a sweet scene to witness.

The princess' entourage was piled into the second car, and Her Highness rode with Jack and his children. Sitting by the window with Jack's children between them, John looked up at the blonde woman curiously, a thousand and one questions swirling in that petite head of his. Jack, who usually stared out the window during car rides when he wasn't driving, found himself observing his son's perplexed look. Caroline leaned herself against her father, as she did often.

"Do you have a castle?" John ventured, hazel brown eyes searching for answers as the princess' grey-blue eyes came away from the window and met his.

"Not a castle exactly. My parents have a few palaces and a hunting lodge. I stay with them."

"So, you don't have your own castle?"

"No, I don't." She shook her head.

"So, you don't have home?"

"Well, home is where my books are." That made Jack smile, while John kept steady in his interrogation. "And I travel a lot, so I don't really have a need for a permanent home, yet. Sort of nomadic, even with a tiara resting on my head every now and then."

"No-nomadik-…gnome?" The four year old tried to spell the new word, his hazel eyes curiously gazing at her.

"Oh, nomadic, it's…um. Well, it's a person who travels a lot or is always moving." Her highness tried to explain. "Someone who doesn't stay in one place for too long."

John almost seemed to grasp it, but he was still a toddler so he didn't fully understand. Yet, he wanted to show that he was a smart boy so he nodded, feigning knowingness.

The Princess smiled at him, and the boy was satisfied.

 

Anna was still slightly befuddled even as she arrived in America, and met President Kennedy's children (who were very charming and polite, she thought), and drove in the same car as them. What was the deeper purpose of her being there? She couldn't just accept that it was some sort of gesture for international friendship, because she saw no cameras or journalists on her arrival. And now she had met his children. AND would be staying at his cottage near his family…what was it called…compound?

Nonetheless, she felt odd about this, and she knew she could've said "no" and that would've been that. But her curiosity outweighed any strange feelings she held.

Now, she was saw the sea.

Her things were at the president's house, her guards securing the area with the help of the American Secret Service, who would be looking after her.

Aase, too, was somewhere, probably bossing around some confused poor maid, who had to hear his broken English (Aase was man of many talents, but somehow had slept through learning English properly). He had insisted that he come along, since she had never travelled on her own ever since he began his service as her private secretary. He was kind of like her…guard dog, gatekeeper. And greatest protector, probably, next to her father. And an older brother, in many ways.

It was good, in truth that she had one person who she could talk to, who she knew. Because she saw quite quickly that the Kennedys were a different breed of human. It wasn't even ten minutes when she had settled into her guest room, when one of the president's siblings (Eunice or was it Patricia? One name or the other), bowed her dark head in and after polite introductions invited her to a game of touch football. Touch football? Strange name for a game. And she declined, letting down the older woman easily. She wasn't exactly an avid sportswoman, sure she could play tennis adequately and swim very well. But she wasn't crazy about it or very competitive.

From the president's cottage she couldn't really see the water, but she had made her way to what was called the big house, where she did see a game of football being played. But no one noticed her walk by (which she did like, that veil of brief invisibility), and down to the water, one her guard's (Mika Dahl) a few paces behind her.

Slipping off her sandals, she dipped her toes into the water which was a little cool, but refreshing. Mika laid down his suit's jacket down onto the sand so she could sit on it, her feet touching the edge of the water. She closed her eyes and took in her surroundings. The summery ocean breeze, seagulls somewhere, distant shouts for proper "plays" whatever that meant, Mika shuffling in the sand standing not too far behind her. The waves subtly crashing against the coastline. Sand grains getting stuck between her toes. The salty smell of the air, its freshness. Her hair picking up in the wind and brushing against her skin.

Exhaling, Anna's eyes flickered open, looking out into the horizon. She liked Hyannis Port, or at least she thought she would. Her legs were pulled towards her chest, arms resting over her knees as she just sat there. Still taking it all in. "Mika, jeg tror, jeg kan lide dette sted." (Mika, I think I like this place). The guard's silence was normal, he knew when she wanted to be talked back to.

She sat there for a while.

She heard the president's voice, her reverie and daydreaming ended.

"So, this is where you went to, your highness? Eunice told me you weren't interested in a game." He was dressed in a more relaxed fashion. Better than that suit he'd worn at the hangar. Now wearing a blue polo shirt and beige shorts. His hair twisted and messy by the wind and from the game. Nothing like the polished man on glossy magazine covers or refined newspaper pages or even when they first met.

"I…I didn't know there would be activities today. I would've packed more sportier clothes." She tried to find an excuse that wouldn't directly give away her disinterest in any form of football.

"You could've said that." Her ears tried to parse if there was disappointment in his tone or not. Social cues could be a bit of mystery to her sometimes. But that tone was gone in the next sentence. "Have you settled in, your highness?"

He dropped down next to her on the sand, though not as gracefully, and a bit more careful with his movements.

"Yes, I am settled."

A half-smile crossed his face, that held many creases joined by the smile lines she noted. "Good. Your, uh, private secretary, was looking for you. And well," He scratched the back of his neck. "so was I."

Anna raised a brow at that. "Well, here I am, Mr. President."

"You don't have to call me that when no one is looking." That sounded like a line, and she saw that he cringed when he had said it. "I…I didn't mean it like that, your highness. It's just…"

She scoffed, maybe a bit too sharply. Not at all ladylike. She looked off at the water, it glistened in the sunlight that was slowly beginning to set over the horizon.

"Wha-what was that for?"

"Why am I here? Are you…" She really didn't want to ask, but if she was going to enjoy her time, she needed it out of the way. "Are you trying to…to proposition me?"

And the appalled look on his face, and the faint red tint on his cheeks gave her the answer before he regained his voice. With an obvious faux cough he said. "No, no-no. I…"

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. "Oh, Gud." Anna felt her own face change its color. "Jeg kvajede mig." (I fucked up) She muttered under her breath, as she averted her eyes.

"Come again?"

"I…I misspoke." She pushed her hair out of her face at a gust of wind. "I…"

"No, you're right to be confused…I…in your shoes who wouldn't be." He started, clearing his throat. "And I should be more upfront with why I asked you here."

Anna looked at him, showing that she was listening.

"I don't have many people who I've talked about…my wife…because- it doesn't matter why. But meeting you, you brought something out of me. And I thought we understood each others…" He knew the right word, but wasn't sure he could just say it.

"Pain and suffering?" She offered, and the president nodded.

"Pain. My…my family and friends have…moved on from losing her. They don't seem…stuck."

"And you are?"

Again, he moved his head, bowing it slightly looking at the sand as his fingers traced patterns on it. "But you, maybe because you are a stranger, didn't stop me, and even related to being stuck."

"I must tell you, it wasn't normal for me to talk about Micheal, either. I can't…most of the time."

"Neither can I, about my wife. But I think…it did some good, remembering, with you."

"Even if you don't know anything about me? Aside from what you've found out by now and of my fiancé."

"I want…this might sound strange - but I would like to know you. No, not like that. As friends."

"Friends?"

"Someone outside of our worlds. We could…confide in each other. About our…pain." It was an interesting and very…one might say unique idea.

"I'm a Crown Princess and you're a president, the…optics are…well…" She gestured vaguely.

"Oh, my brother's already given me an earful, don't you start, too." He tried to laugh it off.

"But it's true." She couldn't help joining his laughter with a soft chuckle. "Everyone will think something."

"You haven't rejected my idea, yet." He pointed out.

"Because I can't find the right words, yet." She tapped her chin, playfully showing she was thinking. "We would be each others confidantes, right?"

He nodded. Being vulnerable with him, she had done that all those months ago. It was strange that they could bring out dark parts of their lives out and into words.

But she also remembered the relief she had felt to be able to talk about something she kept so close to her heart, and knowing that her family though supportive had moved on with their lives (her younger sisters in colleges, and one, Agnes, two years Anna's junior, married and with a baby on the way), while she seemed to, like the president said, stuck like he was.

That one night on Valentine's Day had been refreshing, to bleed with someone who also had an open wound.

"Okay. Lad os prøve det her." (Okay. Uh... Let's try this.) She slipped into Danish and blushed when he noticed his confused expression.

"Can I hear the last part again?"

"I said that we can try this friendship. I've never been friends with a president before."

"I've never been friends with a princess before. We're both learning something new."

This made them both smile, slightly in their equally emotionally restrained way, both not used to talking about their feelings and having the conversation they just had.

"So, there is still a sailing race? That wasn't some ruse to get me to come here across an ocean to become your friend?"

"Oh, that wasn't a ruse. And we…my family, have sailed in it over the years. It was an earnest invite."

"All right…good." She nodded and looked at the sea, the sun nearing the horizon line. A thought bloomed in her head."Do you sometimes feel like a part of your soul comes alive when you breathe in salty air?"

With that, something was awakened in them, and their conversation found sound passage and they talked well after the sun had set. Only the calls to dinner brought them away from the beach.

 

After dinner at the Big House, Jack saw Anna walk over to his father, Joe, after debilitating strokes confined to a wheelchair and his words to his mind, sitting on the white wood porch. The only things Joe could say were “No” or louder and in quicker succession “No, no”. He’d been given a chalkboard so when he was able to write, he could say what his voice failed him to.

Now, Jack witnessed how gently Anna kneeled next to the man, who was a ghost of his former self, and talk with the man, not looking for replies. But he saw how his father lit up slightly at her attention and didn’t even bristle at her attentiveness. She was admittedly a good looking woman, and his father was still at his core himself, and didn’t dislike having a woman like her near.

Caroline tugged at Jack’s hand. “Daddy, can you tell me a bedtime story?” She yawned softly and Jack nodded.

“Of course, Buttons. Let’s go get you and your brother to bed.”

Caroline and John in bed, Jack retired to the porch of his own cottage, cigar smoking between his fingers. He looked towards the Big House. He went over the day in his head, and found some good things and ignored anything bad. The door to the porch from inside the house creaked open and the padding of feet made his head turn. Her Highness, Anna. She had a cardigan now over her day clothes. It did get colder even in the summer evenings, especially by the sea. She had her hands wrapped around her body as she came to stand next to him. In silence they stood for longer than either imagined.

Eventually, Jack said “Good night, Princess”, put out his cigar and went to return inside. He stopped at the door, body hallway in, but turned his head and looked at her. The moon shined on her again, and her back was to him. His mouth opened, to say something more, but nothing came out. He shook his head and left her alone.

 

Anna was lying in bed, unable to sleep. Not strange for her, since she often found herself wide awake when she should’ve counted sheep and fallen asleep. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn with one window slightly open, so she’d have fresh air. But nothing took her off to dreamland. She’d brought along books to read, that was her cure most nights even if she more often then not fell asleep later since she would become immersed in her reading. But the books weren’t helping. Her mind was alive and only a pill might quiet it. Aase didn’t like that she took pills, even if he knew she struggled.

She sat up when she heard a soft knock on the door of her bedroom. Her brows knitted together. It certainly wasn’t Aase, his knock was very formal, and he would address her exactly five seconds after the first knock. She wasn’t sure how the President knocked, but this wasn’t an adults knock either way.

“Who is it?” She called out and threw her feet over the side of the bed and out from under the covers. She had on a long silken nighty and her hair was in a braid. Her hand touched the doorknob after no answer came, and she pulled the door open. Casting her eyes downward, she saw the First Son was at her door. “Oh, hello.”

“There’s a monster under my bed.” The little boy choked out as he twisted his fingers, clad in light blue pjs and a little robe. He stared up at her with tears barely restrained in his eyes.

Why had he come to her? His father was surely in a nearby bedroom, or a nurse was somewhere in the house. Anna kneeled down to his height. “Did you ask your father for help?”

“Daddy’s with Caroline. She’s crying again.” The small boy said before grabbing onto Anna like a koala. “The monster’s so scary. Please, tell it to go away.”

“You poor thing.” Anna said. Surprised at the embrace brought from the boy, she gathered her bearings quickly. Seeing as how the First Son didn’t let go of her, she picked him up. “All right, let’s go see about this creature.”

“Thank…thank you.” He whispered into the crook of her neck.

He whispered into her ear where his bedroom was, and when they entered he pointed to his bed before cowering into her arms again.

“Hey, I’ll check out this creature and everything will be fine.” She soothed the boy, rubbing his back and carefully set him down on the carpeted floor and crouched down to look under the bed. Like she had expected nothing. Well, there was a mound of…clothes, which she pulled out. “No monster, see. It was just a jumper and socks.”

A smile broke out on the boy’s features, like sunbeams. “You got it. Thank you, thank you.” He ran back to her and hugged her, this time not as startled by him and easily lifted him into bed and tucking him in.

She wasn’t usually at ease with children, turning stiff and tongue-tied. But she had managed to calm and comfort the First Son quite well. Soon enough the boy was snoozing away. She folded up the articles that had been the monster under his bed and set them down on a stool.

Closing the door behind her, she returned to her bedroom and falling onto her bed. Her brain had filled with more questions, but most too private to voice. With that, she managed to quiet her mind just enough to have her eyes close and drift off.

///

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

[hugemilkshake]

Marble Danish Cookie x Blind Y/N Cookie who's good at poetry and there love language is words of affection and is obliviously flirty

Enjoy the milkshake! Tbh this is only the third time I’ve written for witches castle (I think-) and I don’t think I’ve ever written for TOA yet. Might have to do that sometime

A lovely invite

-romantic-

It was a quiet day in The House of Danish, there was no events or celebrations. Marble Danish was standing on a balcony, enjoying the cool nights breeze and the sound of trees rustling. A butler walked up to Marble Danish and handed him a letter before walking away to leave him alone.

The letter was sealed with a rose colored wax, the envelope had some soft rose designs on the corners. There was a romantic feeling to this letter.

Marble Danish removed the seal and slipped the letter out and unfolded it, the smooth paper presses against his hands as he glanced over the letter, it seemed like a love poem.

Marble Danish began to read it…

To my dearest Marble Danish,

Despite my unseeing eyes, you would only be one soul i’d want gaze upon.

Your bitter yet gentle nature is like a soothing light in a sea of darkness, a rose surrounded by thorns, a sparkling shimmer of hope in a time of despair.

I’d love to feel your hands upon mine as we dance together under the shine of moonlight sometime.

~Y/N Cooike

Marble Danish’s face flushed, he should have expected that Y/N Cookie wrote this, they’ve not spoken to each other in a while. So this invite was to be expected, but in the form of a love poem?

It came as a surprise to Marble Danish

[oracularvernacular]

zayne is mitski pilled and i made him a playlist and it's tearing my soul from my ribs with the flesh still clinging onto it so I'm gonna do a poll

[clem900]

I swear the hair flip Lars used to ALWAYS do on interviews will always remain ICONIC!

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Ohmygosh could you possibly write a Marble Danish Cookie x Fem!Reader? Maybe some headcanons?

It's been revealed that he came from a wealthy and noble family. I can't help but imagine that he's set to marry the reader, who comes from a less wealthy family (their families made some sort of deal together and that deal included the two of them to marry).

Luckily for both families, the two of them get along well and eventually fall in love in the end!

bro has no right looking this handsome 💀

SNAIL I AM SHAKING YOU. I AM OBSESSED WITH HIM. I LOVE HIM, I NEED HIM.

Your House and House Danish had been on friendly terms for many, many years. Even as your House began to, House Danish wouldn't stand by and let that happen. So, it was proposed you and Marble Danish Cookie were to marry!

Thankfully, to the relief of everyone, you both got along wonderfully. You two were almost like soulmates, with how easily your love was able to blossom.

There was really no expense spared when it came to the wedding. Your dress was beautiful, his suit handsome, and it went off without a hitch.

You two share a deep love, always confiding in each other. There's nothing you don't tell the other, especially serious issues.

He's brandished his sword at more than a few Cookies who dared to try and mock you with your House's status. He won't tolerate that at all.

Likewise, you usually handle those who say that Marble Danish Cookie married out of his league because of your beauty. A few words coated in honey and poison often sent them running away.

He's both your husband and your protector. Likewise, you're both his wife and his confidant. There's nothing neither of you can't together.

Marble Danish Cookie loves you like you're the only thing in his life. You're his number one priority, as he is yours.

[stellewriites]

hello just saw speak no evil and it has got my thoughts GOING,, i think an au is on the horizon for it

[gofishygo]

there is a baked goods day on tumblr apparently . time to drop every thing i can find in my camera roll <3

(some of it looks a little gross but m blaming it on lighting trust !!)

[sleepingdeath-light]

marble danish cookie + segmented smut alphabet ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (part of an event)

letters used ; c / f / i

masterlist(s) ; here / here

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

C — Cum

anything about cum.

Perhaps due to his family’s noble history and his upbringing as their heir apparent, Marble Danish Cookie doesn’t like the idea of his cum going to waste and much prefers to finish inside you where possible — be that in your mouth, your pussy (if afab), or your ass, he’s not particularly picky. That being said he can also appreciate the sight of his seed coating your face so he may break his own rule every now and then.

F — Favourite Position

self explanatory

Most of the time it’s a toss up between missionary and the mating press, with him being on the top either way, because he loves being able to see your face as he absolutely wrecks you over and over again until you’re both too spent to continue. That being said, you want to put on a show for him and treat him to some reverse cowgirl once in a while then he’s certainly not going to turn you away — he quite enjoys the view, after all.

I — Intimacy

how romantic are they?

This depends on where he is in life. In his younger years, before the fall of his noble house and when he was still the beloved heir apparent, his approach to sex involved a lot more wooing and traditional displays of romance than what he’s capable of performing nowadays. It was playful, fun, and his unshakeable confidence in his abilities as a lover was always proven to be well-placed no matter the kink, position, or scene you two were partaking in because he had the means and the time to learn for you — after all, his family’s status meant that he had little else to focus on beside his preparations for inheriting the family name, and you.

After the fall of his house, however, his approach to sex is more focused on the carnal pleasures of the act itself rather than the intimacy it can provide for you both as lovers. He’s rough, he’s effective, he knows what he wants from you and he knows your body so well that he’s always able to get it once you allow him into your bed, and he never fails to leave you wanting more (more of him, more of his voice, more of his body, and more of what he can bring). But he’s very rarely romantic, at least in the traditional sense — he cares for you, obviously, and does what he can to ensure you’re taken care of and recovering after he’s had his fill of you, and he can be remarkably gentle when performing aftercare, but it’s clear that his mind is elsewhere. He’ll make it up to you once he’s reclaimed what’s rightfully his and he’s finally able to rest and focus on you once more… just give him some time.

[coldresolve]

moneymakers profanity stats as of pt.46

[nubimera]

omg i saw the anon that related jason to castles crumbling so i think it’s my time to shine and say that i’ve always related him to peace by taylor swift. i just. ugh. i can’t explain it. being in a romantic relationship with him is 100% that song to me. i was never a real taylor listener but my sister forced me to listen to that album when it came out and i was like AH??

I feel like I'm living out of touch because I had absolutely no idea what song it was AND OH MY GOD

HOW RIGHT YOU ARE

"But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me"

Are you kidding me??! This exact verse is eating away my brain and I can't stop thinking about it😭😭

(I just want to add that it kinda makes me laugh that we're related so many Taylor Swift songs to Jason, when for me he's actually Mitski coded)

[greaseonmymouth]

Kaffe (852 words) by nerakrose Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Afdeling Q | Department Q (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Assad/Carl Mørck Additional Tags: Flaskepost fra P, foregår for det meste efter hospitalet men inden de kommer tilbage til afdelingen, Assad er en meget tålmodig mand, Competence Kink, Hand Jobs, Getting Together, p.s. hvis kommaerne er fucking mærkelige skyd skylden på dansk sprognævn, de har ændret reglerne for mange gange jeg giver op Summary: Carl Mørck er en ynkelig, ynkelig mand. Han er også skidedygtig til sit arbejde, hvilket betyder at Assad står i en situation hvor han både er tændt af på grund af Carls generelle patetiske aura, men han er også tændt op. Under den slatne karklud ulmer en glød, og Assad vil nærmest gøre alt for at se om han kan puste til den - om ilden vil blusse.