#He’s the southern representation i NEED though

[heaven-zent]

thinkin’ bout buying land for a farm

[changbunnies]

Aurora (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 21.8k

♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.

♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate.

You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest. 

Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix.

And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father. 

Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence. 

The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile.

You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of. Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards.

“Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’ 

“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from. 

Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is. 

“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word– after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be.

Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well. 

While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this.

Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you. You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t.

What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different. 

“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer.

You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should– he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it. 

“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband. 

“This is my– well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.” 

“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.” 

You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for.

And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly. 

But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king. A man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, but was giving you the freedom of choice.

And then there was the statement that followed– he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer. 

Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike?

Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you. 

“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.”

“Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future. 

“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering. 

The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom.

This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer. 

Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him. 

When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable. 

“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was– he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..”

Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own. 

So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.”

He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm– good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing.

While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday. 

You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door.

You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?” You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him.

“The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.” 

It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you.

He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket. 

“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it. 

And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. 

Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart. 

"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)

Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do.

You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up. 

Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix.

Some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face, shyness blooming over it the way it had when he was still small. 

It made you curious– what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands.

But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush. 

“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you.

When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own. 

You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match. 

And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together.

Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft, delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall. 

The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as 'this is where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on.

Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family. You wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth. 

He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life.

You know his sisters aren’t much different from you, really. Women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them. 

You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them?

Your younger sister, who was still small and naive– how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you. 

He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice.

It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.) 

“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances.

“I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest. 

“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.”

Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you. 

It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume. 

In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress– they’re royalty, after all.) 

He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border. 

There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings.

It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center. 

Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.

“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat.

“That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.

“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband. 

“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, as it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in. 

The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room. 

It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him, and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction. 

It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived– genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return. 

He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to– to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to. 

You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.

Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm.

You come to a now familiar hall– the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. 

“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to.

He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not? The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.)

His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky. 

He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design.

You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents. “This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?”

“I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”

He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice.

“I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus. 

The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do. 

You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent.

“Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment. 

“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 

No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. 

He'll tell you too– how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now. 

Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page. 

Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.

Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature. 

However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.  

Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him– the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level. 

Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone. 

You also worried it’d send him the wrong message– you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be. 

It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true– but enough to share a bed? It was nerve wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms. 

But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly. 

You didn’t hate thunderstorms– in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it. 

What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had. 

How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all. 

You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers. 

Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening. 

You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself.

If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions. Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now.

Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet– he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on. 

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you. 

Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room.

But his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room. Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you.

The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless. 

You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him. 

But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention.

“Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. 

He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest.

He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you. 

And then he hears it– the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit tighter whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid. Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear.

The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths more stable. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean. 

You hesitate to meet his gaze– not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest. “Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could.

You believe him– you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms. 

“I, uh– I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything– how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole. 

His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation.

What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have? You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened.

You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.

He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough. 

And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind– what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room.

Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again. 

Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with.

But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have. 

Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence.

Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share? There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts.

But there is an undeniable truth– Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.

Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off.

You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough? 

“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I–” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission. “I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.”

Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is. “Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket.

He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours, if it was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.

But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair.

You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable. 

Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state.

You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy. 

There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few.

He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it. And you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred. 

You certainly didn’t regret your decision– after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look? 

The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut– one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new.

And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship. 

It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before. Once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had.

You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties. You spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you. 

You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches. 

No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed.

On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue.

It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you. 

Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in.

It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought. He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open.

His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect. You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect.

But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be. 

You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look.

And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this. Moments where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist. 

Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response.

“You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it. 

He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains.

You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind. Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice.

Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end, after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, as well as a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season. 

That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields– it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them. 

Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory.

It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom. You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix.

It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do? 

It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love– after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix– it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other.

You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through.  And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep. 

Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep.

You assured him though that it was perfectly fine– in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely. It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close.

Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.

You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.”

“Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use– he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all.

Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours. 

You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue.

But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with. Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh.

Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values. 

Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could.

There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself. You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done.

You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place. You had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time. 

You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore.

Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it. 

You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family.

It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then. 

After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.

Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones. 

All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either.

Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe. You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness.

You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him. 

Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional. 

While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush. 

And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in– an arranged marriage, same as you. 

His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married. 

“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again.

“I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important. 

“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence; while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks. 

“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be.

It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face. 

Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public.

And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other. Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it.

Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision. You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that.

You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still– better to be safe about these things than sorry. 

It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so. 

Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic. 

You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down.

“What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.” 

“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this is where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again. 

Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm.

“We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris. 

“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.

“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply. 

It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain– you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case. 

Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home. 

And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal– that is love.  

When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like.

All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; you don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix. 

“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair– that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel. 

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.

It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it– a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face. 

The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak– still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down. 

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic– he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss.

The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer– it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene. “There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all.

Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless. 

“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive.

“O-Oh, uhm– this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words. 

“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage. 

“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?”

God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile. Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet.

“Are you alright? I’m– I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.” 

His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react.

“Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.

“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles. You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you.

Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.

The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife.

She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for– Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix. 

When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.) 

He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath. 

You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body.

Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes. 

You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard.

“Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet. 

The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh– I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly. 

“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs– a book.

You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together. “When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover.

“The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page. 

“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest.

How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice. 

He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most– there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt. 

"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her. 

He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky– countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame. 

And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”

The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion.

He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture. 

Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates.

He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do. Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same.

So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say– Felix loves you. And you love him too. 

So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation. 

“I– I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I–” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained.

“I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to– ..I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds. 

One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read– you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix.

What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks– it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth. 

The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them.

“I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous. “I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul. 

“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.”

God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him.

He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.” You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own. 

His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.

It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath. 

“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him. 

Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes. 

It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now.

He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise. “Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer.

“O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first.

And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined. He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs.

His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together. 

Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own– after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside. 

The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts. 

Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip. He loves the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them. 

He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.

He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.

He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)

Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it– this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life.

“Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you. “You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice?

Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb. 

“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully. 

Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed– but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here. 

“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying. 

You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be. 

Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there. 

“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels. 

His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head. 

You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer. 

“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight– the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your arousal, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out– he’s just so.. alluring.

“But the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you– he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.” 

Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers.

Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it. Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it.

You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin. 

Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear. 

The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do– you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you. 

You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it. 

A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.

But you can’t help but think– it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face. 

He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy. 

Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him. 

The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.

You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions.

“I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?” 

God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.

“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you.

He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.

He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream. 

Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you.

“Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers.

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable. It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt– and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt.

Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this– God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. 

You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move– clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest. 

You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion.

“It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.

He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him– everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him. 

He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you. 

“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you.

He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure. You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however– in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume.

He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception. 

You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim. 

You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.

You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you.

Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to– there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms. He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed. 

From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew– you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate. 

It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife.

He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that. 

[jasntodds]

hey pooks. as an Okie trust me i get the tornado watch and im so sorry. but to kinda tie that in how would jay react to a very southern reader. like accent and all. grew up in rodeos. was one of the rodeo girls where they do the performances between rides and all that. i need more non-city representation. 🫶🏼

Ugh I’m so sorry I’m sure you have to deal with them way more than I do!! I hope you like this though!! As someone who’s lived in the middle of nowhere for 20 years, we do need more non-city representation 😭

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

As a city boy, born and raised, his general knowledge of anything southern US mostly comes from the occasional person he’d run into or things in books or movies which aren’t the most accurate sometimes. So, when he meets you and you actually want to talk and get to know him, it opens him up to a completely different world than the one he’s used to.

Of course, the first thing he notices is the accent. It’s wildly different than the typical New Jersey accent he’s heard his entire life. The accent catches him off guard at first but in a way that nearly makes him smile. He finds it cute and as typical as it sounds, he even finds it charming but especially on you.

Jason’s not much of a talker to be begin with, especially just getting to know people but the drawl of your accent has him hooked. He’s got the biggest heart eyes, hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth.

When you tell him about the rodeo, he does a double take. Of course, he knows they’re real but they do not have them in Gotham and they’ve seemed like such a foreign concept to him. You mention it more off-handed as something you’ve always enjoyed and it’s where you grew up, going all the time but that sparks a very long discussion with Jason asking a ton of questions about the different events.

And him finding out you were a rodeo girl, he’s somehow even more fascinated. Prior to you explaining it, he didn’t know that aspect of rodeos was real. He wants to know everything there is to know about it and he just lets you ramble while he’s taking mental notes. He might even have a curiosity if you still happen to remember any of your performances.

You describe this completely different world to him even outside of the rodeo like having to take backroads most places and public transport not being widely accessible. You describe a world that’s quiet and not always so bright. Crickets and the occasional goat or horse making noise are all that fill most evenings. The moon and stars illuminate the sky most nights. Maybe a bit inconvenient being out of the city sometimes, but overall incredibly peaceful, something Jason has always craved. that he’d never really thought too much about.

He’s a city boy, born and raised and he never questioned it all too much. But hearing you talk and learning what, at least part of the US south can be like, he’s finding himself more and more interested. He’d definitely be making plans to find a reason to go south just to see it all for himself and to experience it with you.

[reel-fear]

Bendy And The Power Of Representation

So those graphic novel pages huh? Seems I posted my cover post at just the right time because literally minutes after I was informed the preview pages came out and uh. This is Buddy and Norman!

Oh dear... I'll put the full graphic novel pages down below but I have so much to say on how awful this is it'll need several posts. However, right now I want to mostly talk about representation and briefly touch on why it's so damn important + inform others about the current shit Mike and Meatly are saying about the books n such.

Now note: All the things I'm saying below are based on my personal experience, maybe some people don't care about seeing the representation of their identities in the media they consume. Maybe some will think I'm merely being dramatic and I might be but I'm not lying when I say I personally believe being represented and seen in the media you consume can be one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.

Look I'm not here to argue with people who think that Norman in particular was never meant to be a person of color, I would argue he is very coded but the points I'm making here are not about how Norman particularly had to be black. The point I want to make is the lack of diversity in our cast in general and how Norman's design has heavily dwindled it considering most people [including myself] rightfully assumed he was at least one of three black characters in our cast. Not according to this though and looking at the the rest of the pages our chances of seeing any kind of decent diverse character designs dwindle more.

So firstly... Buddy a character who has been said to experience discrimination for being Jewish, lacks any kind of ethnic features at all. That's... Cool but yeah I think this shows a rather grim future for the character designs as a whole.

Also, Norman... As I mentioned he was largely assumed to be black due to his southern dialect, his voice, and other factors. But nope, he's a generic white guy. With... Gross looking hair tbh...

Sadly this is not the first time the topic of poor representation has come up concerning Bendy either.

[note how he disregarded the other mentioned minorities and specifically cites LGBTQ+ characters]

This sucks as a response but sadly considering Mike's recent behavior it seems to fall in line with the Bendy team's general lack of care towards representing anyone who isn't straight and white.

So how did Mike respond to all of this? Well...

TDLR - "Who cares if the Graphic Novel we're selling to our fans for full price sucks, we now no longer consider the books canon."

This is horrible, I know Mike and Meatly are only really in this for the money, the fact BATIM is in the state that it is proved that, but they really couldn't have been less obvious about it?

So basically when it benefited them, AKA when it meant people would have to buy the books to understand important lore like Boris' identity... [the character you spend all of chapter 4 trying to rescue] They were considered canon... At least the author sure thought so.

Hell even in the tweet Meatly made here he doesn't say the books aren't canon, he just says they're not needed to understand Bendy's world. Now Mike is using that as a shield instead of doing the right thing and saying "You're right, the poc in our fanbase deserve better we'll have it fixed right away!" Like most reasonable people would considering how his studio has literally been accused of bigotry, poor rep, and general lack of diversity before. Why risk making more people avoid this franchise?

Also just... Imagine how insulting it would be to be an author who helps flesh out so much of this world and gives its characters depth like NONE of the games have managed to do, filling in plot holes, creating a timeline for events, etc... Then because they couldn't bother to change the graphic novel for ur story to be better they instead throw out all ur writing and declare it non-canon.

If I were her to put it bluntly I'd feel insulted and horrible. Why make her do all the work of making sure her works align with the timeline and game's canon if they're not part of it?

I can't speak for her obviously but Meatly and Mike know of her account, so speaking out against this could very much risk her being fired or at least not allowed to work on Bendy anymore... So I would take all her tweets on this situation with a grain of salt. She very much is not in a position where she could be honest if she was against this.

So with all that history now, the question I'm sure many are wondering is... Why does this even matter? Who cares how diverse the characters are when it doesn't affect the story?

Well for one thing, if you think like that consider having more empathy for your fellow human beings but also it does affect the story. One of DCTL's themes is about the bigotry of the period it is set in.

Now the Bendy team has managed to make the discussion of this book centering around their bigotry which is ironic in a way I almost find funny... Though this entire thing is just a bit too hurtful and upsetting to find any humor in, at least for me...

But another thing is representation can bring people such joy when it's done with care. It really shouldn't be understated how far it can go to make people feel more comfortable in their own sense of self to have a franchise choose to represent them and their experiences. I know this from personal experience.

Now if you've been following me for a while, you know I'm a big fan of Transformers. I no longer engage with it much due to baggage from the fandom's awful treatment of me, but before I left I remember being able to witness the release of Transformers: Earthspark first few episodes.

These introduced the Maltos the family who meets the Transformers and serve as our protagonists and guess what?

It's a family of Filipinos!

Now look I'm not Filipino, but I am half Mexican and I have a lot of love for that part of me. So seeing the representation of any Spanish culture in this franchise I loved made me so happy! I remember just watching the first episode I was happily telling my partner how fun it was to see people like me and my family in a world I love!!

But it didn't end with the Maltos in fact... There was another character who spoke to me, their name was Nightshade. Their pronouns are They/Them and they spoke about it on the show! Not just mentioning it and moving on but actually sitting down to speak about their experiences...

This clip in particular really turned them into an absolute favorite among fans and well... I'll let you see it for yourself.

This scene... Fills me with a joy I cannot describe. It is the creators of a franchise I love telling me they see people like me and find the stories of people like me important enough to include in this series. There really is nothing like being able to say there are Non-Binary characters in a franchise I have so much love for. I was far from the only one too.

This is amazing, this is wonderful, this clip and character were moving to so so many people and...

This is a joy the Bendy creators have no interest in giving their audience. They don't care how you feel as a queer and/or black person, which... Hurts...

I... Discovered I was trans while in the Bendy community... It was where I learned the word Non-Binary and started using it for myself. To me Bendy will always have that connection... But the devs themselves seem to hate the idea of being forced to actually represent that in their games... And I still haven't really gotten over that pain or betrayal if I'm being honest.

So...

With Norman now being portrayed as white here, we are down to two black characters. Thomas [who Meatly has claimed is white in the past] based on a vague conversation with Sammy in DCTL they could easily ignore... And Jacob.... A book exclusive character which according to Mike means he is non-canon.

If we don't count Thomas' vague talk with Sammy about disrespect as confirmation he's black [which the devs don't seem to think so] then we have one black character in all of Bendy... And he recently got retconned into non-existence. Great.

Look... The Bendy fanbase has always been full of wonderfully diverse designs for the staff and even more diverse people creating them. Bendy's fandom was built with the work of queer people from all kinds of places.

If the Bendy team continues to show how little they care for anyone who isn't straight or white... I wonder who they are counting on to buy this book or in general financially support their franchise?

I know right now, I am furious, I am hurt and I most certainly don't feel like buying a book that's currently just a massive fuck you to the fans and I hope I've expressed why I feel this way in an easy-to-understand way here...

Either way, I will not be forgetting this anytime soon and I hope the fanbase does the same. Maybe just maybe, if there's enough backlash to this series of horrible decisions they'll learn better.

Right now, it's kinda of our only hope for a better future, and if you know any poc who are into Bendy right now... Maybe consider making sure they're feeling okay.

I know from experience how much this sort of thing hurts, to have the creators of a world you love straight up tell you they don't intend to fix the fact no one in their stories represents your identity or life...

What I'm trying to say is...

This is a really low point for Bendy and its fans... Even more for the poc who have to witness such ignorant and careless attitudes from Mike and Meatly towards their feelings.

Please don't forget them when you discuss these tweets or this situation. That's exactly what Mike and Meatly want right now.

For them to be unrepresented and therefore... Unheard.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1.5

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1.5: because you look so fine

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set in the middle of deleted scene #1 (after Joel & Ellie come home but before you move in with them). Joel's acting weird lately.

Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, poor communication, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, tooth-rotting over the top fluff in the only way two assholes know how, oral (m&f receiving), brief Tommy & Maria cameos, a few butt slaps, good ole southern hospitality, when i started this i meant for joel to play guitar but sadly he does not.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel’s been a little weird lately. In a very Joel way.

Or maybe not. You’re not really sure what to think of it.

Ever since that first day when he walked you home from dinner, and you didn’t invite him in, he’s been… awkward.

Or maybe he hasn’t. You don’t really know Joel. It’s a startling realization you had after he left that night.

You lived with him for six months and traveled the country with him, but neither of those were very good representations of him. When you shared the apartment, you only saw him to fuck. You didn’t hang out shooting the shit or have riveting conversations about current events over breakfast.

When you were out of the QZ with him and Tess, there was no talking. Not a single unnecessary word. He and Tess communicated silently. You were on a need-to-know basis and never had a need-to-know.

And those months traveling with Ellie? Well, you’d learned a little more about him, but also, he was under such intense stress that you’re not sure how much was Joel and how much was the situation.

He’s been a lot nicer since he got back to Jackson. Well. Maybe nicer isn’t the right word.

He’s been more talkative and smiled more. Most of the time, when he opens his mouth, though, it’s to be a sarcastic ass.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

And, okay, maybe you do know him.

You decide maybe you’re the one being weird, so you let it go until the weirdness intensifies one Friday night.

Tommy had you both cornered at the mess on Thursday. “So y’all are coming to the Bison tomorrow, right? Ernie came back with a couple of guitars to try to round out the act.”

Joel perks up at this, and you watch him carefully. He’s never seemed interested in whatever goes on at the pub. “They work?”

“They need some love,” Tommy says. “Reckon you might be able to fix ‘em up?”

“Shit,” Joel says, the curse drawn out and low as he thinks. “I might. He gonna let me come ‘n take a look at ‘em?”

“You could probably swing by tonight; see if any of ‘em can be saved.”

Joel eyes your empty plate. “C’mon, I’ll walk ya home first.”

“The Bison is closer than my house,” you say, utterly perplexed by the way this conversation has gone. “I can walk myself.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll come back after.”

You think it’s kind of silly but he’s insisted on walking you home every day. Every day that you don’t end up in his bed, anyway.

Every time, he holds your hand. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you let the warm summer silence lead you.

He always kisses you goodnight. Never as chaste as the first time, but never letting it get out of hand, either. He doesn’t ask to come in. He doesn’t try to start anything.

He’s respecting your boundaries, you think, and it’s kind of weird. But good weird.

Tonight, he lingers with his arms draped loose around your hips, holding you close there but letting you lean your upper body back against the siding. He’s got a look on his face that you can’t identify.

After a moment, he narrows his eyes and jostles you a little with one arm. “Gonna come with me to the Bison tomorrow?”

“Since when do you go to Friday Night Live?” you tease.

He scowls. “Since tomorrow.”

“You can’t say since tomorrow; that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I just said it, didn’t I?” His face twists into something you do recognize.

“Hey,” you pout. “Why’re you mad?”

“M’not mad. Will you stop teasin’ me and answer the question?”

You’re so lost it’s not funny. But now you recognize the first expression. He was defensive.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be a dick. Sure, Joel, if you’re goin’, I’ll come out and see what the fuss is.”

“Don’t gotta try to be something you just are,” he says. There’s a hint of a smirk lurking.

You bite down a smile, rolling your eyes.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He leans down to kiss you.

“Whoa, mister. You already got a goodnight kiss. Getting greedy?”

He bites at your lip. “Hush,” he scolds, helping himself to several kisses. “That one expired. Gotta make it up to me.”

You’re grinning stupidly, now, but so is he. “Alright, you big baby. One more.”

But he stands up straighter and kisses your forehead instead. “G’night,” he murmurs.

As always, he waits until you’re inside with the door locked before he leaves.

You lie awake for too long, tucked in and cozy, but kept up by the colony of butterflies that he seems to have let loose with all that kissing.

You’re getting ready to head down to the Bison when there’s a knock at your door. You’re trying not to think about how weirdly nervous you feel.

It’s probably just from the thought of the crowd. There’s a reason you haven’t bothered to check out the bar. Small spaces and big crowds aren’t your idea of a good time.

Maybe they were, once. You don’t really remember anymore. Now, they remind you of the hangings back in Boston.

And that’s a train of thought you’d like to derail, so the knock is a nice distraction.

When you open the door, it’s Joel.

“Oh, hey. Thought I was meeting you downtown.”

“Figured I’d walk with ya,” he says. The words are almost mumbled, and he stands stiff just outside the door.

“Alright, gimmie a few, I was just gonna change.”

“Y’ain’t gotta do that, you look nice,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “Thanks?” And you gesture to where a pot of tomato soup had spilled down the side of your tee and then splattered across the bottom of your jeans when it hit the floor.

“Right,” he says.

“You can come in,” you say before heading up to your room.

You spend more time than you’d like picking something to wear. It’s those damn crowds, maybe, making you feel like you need to look nice.

In the end, though, you just pull on a clean tee and jeans with a flannel you’d nicked from Joel when you were out on the road. He hadn’t said anything about it so you figured he never even noticed. It helps, fortifying you against whatever’s making your heart beat out of your chest.

When you get back down, he’s standing in your kitchen. You stare, trying to force your brain to reboot and accept the image of him looming in your space.

He’s got a glass of water in one hand and the other wrapped tight over the edge of the basin.

“You okay?” you say.

He clears his throat and turns around. “Yeah, just needed this,” he gestures with the drink. “For, uh, for these.”

You blink a few times. There are flowers clutched in his other hand, stems trimmed to fit neatly inside.

“Okay,” you say with a shrug.

He sets the glass, now full of purple and yellow blossoms, on the counter.

“We better get going before Tommy sends a search party,” you tease, grabbing him by the belt loops. He lets you pull yourself in, leaning up for a kiss.

It’s syrupy, and his hands come to your waist so he can lick into your mouth, drawing soft moans from you both.

“There’s the hello I was lookin’ for,” he says. He looks you up and down. “Y’look real pretty, sweetheart.”

“You need your eyes checked, old man.” You move to the door, and he follows, waiting while you stuff your feet into your boots without bothering to untie them.

“Sure, let me just call the optometrist,” he rolls his eyes. “You know I like you in my clothes.” He’s patient while you lock the door, but as soon as your key is stowed in your pocket, he’s got your hands wrapped together.

It’s not until you’re sitting in the bar at a round table with Tommy and Maria that the gears finally come to a stop, and everything falls into place.

Joel’s dragged his chair to butt up against yours, and he’s got an arm slung around your shoulder. You’re leaning against him, talking to Maria about the equipment one of the patrol teams had found at an abandoned farm when your brain shorts out.

Of course, you don’t even get a second to process the thought before it spills from your mouth.

“Joel Miller,” you snap, sitting up and looking at him incredulously. “Is this a date?”

He pulls back a little, eyes wide and brows raised. “Yeah,” he says slowly, like he’s not the one that tricked you into this.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I…” he looks wildly at Tommy and then back to you. “I thought you knew.”

“Let’s go get some drinks,” Maria says quietly. Her husband doesn’t get the hint, and she has to hiss in his ear about privacy before yanking him away from the table.

“You thought I knew? How would I have known?”

“I’ve been courtin’ ya for weeks,” he says, scowling. “Didn’t think I needed to spell it out for ya.”

“You’ve been what?”

He flushes a little but stands his ground. “Courtin’ ya. Y’know.”

“What are you talking abo—oh. Oh.” A lot of things are starting to make more sense. The flowers. The hand holding. The sweet partings. The way he pulls out your chair at the table.

“What the hell are you doin’ that for?”

He huffs a breath, arms folding across his chest. “Well, never mind.”

You take a deep breath, but it catches, stuttering in the suddenly humid room. “Can we talk about this outside?”

He must see it on your face because he puts a worried hand on your shoulder to steer you through the crowd.

Once in the open, soothed by the slightly cooler breeze, you cover your face with both hands.

“Joel,” you start.

“I was just tryin’ to do right by you this time around,” he tells the patch of grass under his boots.

You can’t help but smile just a little bit. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to do all that.”

He looks up at you, mouth still twisted down. But you see it for what it is again. Worry.

“You don’t have to try so hard, Joel; you already know I’m a sure thing.”

“I’m not just tryin’ to fuck you,” he snaps. His hands are clenched into fists, and he won’t look at you now. “I’m tryin’ to… I’m tryin’ to show you—”

You step closer, and he doesn’t shy away, but he does shut his mouth. You wrap your fingers back around his belt loops. “I know,” you say. “But I don’t need all that. I just need you. Just you.”

“I’m no good at this,” he grumbles.

“At what?”

“At… this,” he puts his hands on your hips. “At bein’… at relationships,” he finishes. His ears are red. “Never was.”

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve only had the one back before. You coulda lied and pretended to be a pro, and I’d never have known.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses the top of your head. “Just, are you… do you want to be—“

“Joel Miller, are you asking me to go steady?” you grin a little wickedly. “You wanna be my boyfriend? My boo? My beau?”

“Christ,” he says, wiping a hand down his face and groaning. He takes your hand and tugs, heading down the street.

You let him pull you along, still giggling and throwing everything you can think of at him as he weaves through the streets.

“You gonna call me shawty? Gonna make me your girl?”

He stops, and you run smack into him. “Yeah,” he says.

“What?” You hadn’t even realized you’d made it to his house, but he crowds you against it just to the side of the door. “You wanna call me shawty?” You can’t say you expected that.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna make you my girl,” he says. His voice is low, with his head tucked close enough that his breath brushes your ear. One hand is on your hip, and the other is pushing the door open and sliding the key back into his pocket.

Shit, that was smooth.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ smart to say now?”

You open your mouth, but only a squeak comes out, so you shut it and shake your head.

“Yeah? You wanna be my girl?”

Your throat’s so dry, you think you’d never had water, so you just nod a little, looking up at him through your lashes.

He smirks and kisses you, hands roaming as he walks you backward into the house. When he pushes you down onto the bed, you realize you don’t even remember climbing the stairs.

Or taking off your pants.

He makes quick work of your shirts and bra but then pulls the flannel back on you. You roll your eyes, but it quickly becomes involuntary when he runs a finger across your slit.

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re all wet. Somethin’ got you all worked up?”

But you aren’t so far gone yet that you can’t bite back.

“Yeah, turns out this hot guy has a huge crush on me, but he was too scared to ask me out. A shame, really.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, I really wanted to suck his dick, but I don’t date chickens.”

“Well, that’s just not very nice. You’re hurtin’ my feelings, sweetheart.”

“Big tough guy like you?”

His fingers brush against your clit for little more than a second before he pulls his hand away. “Yeah, I reckon you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

He stands up straight. “Get to it.”

You grin and bring your hands up to his belt, taking your sweet time to drag the end from the loop and tug it away from the buckle. You flick the prong back just as he growls his impatience.

He tugs it out of the loops and tosses it on the ground as you slip the button loose and drag the pull down the teeth of his zipper one by one.

He grabs your chin, fingers digging dimples into your smug grin. “Think you’re bein’ cute, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to do a good job.”

“Gotta have it in your mouth to do a good job, sweetheart. I taught you how to suck dick better than this.”

He smirks when your eyes darken and you whimper a little at the memory. He lets go of your jaw and shoves two thick fingers in your mouth.

When he pulls them back out, he shows you how wet they are. “You’re fuckin’ droolin’ for it, sweetheart.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble. But your fingers are nimbler, making deft work of the zipper and tugging his pants down.

When his cock springs free, you waste no time swallowing it down. Damn. You had meant to drag it out and tease him.

“See? Ain’t that better?” He strokes your cheek before cupping the back of your head. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You moan and look up at him through your lashes. He groans and pushes you down on his cock until your nose is buried in the thicket of hair at the base.

“Yeah? You feel pretty with my cock in your mouth?” His other hand cups under your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs.

There’s a foreign ache in your chest. You use it to distract you while you choke on him, letting him fill your throat and mind.

He fucks you like that for a few minutes, pulling out abruptly. “Hands ‘n knees, sweetheart.”

You obey immediately, though you settle on your elbows instead, a pillow tucked between your arms and head. He gropes at your ass, squeezing and rubbing his hands over it before he gives it a few firm smacks.

As if he can sense the complaint you’re about to make, he spreads you apart and buries his face in your cunt. You forget all about your impatience—you may still yearn for his cock, but his tongue is a hell of a consolation prize.

He’s fucking ravenous. He nuzzles in—you’re absolutely going to have beard burn—and devours. Two fingers pump in and out of your cunt while he licks around and in, and you can’t really tell where he ends, and you begin. It’s all so wet and rough and blissful that you reach your orgasm in no time at all.

But he pulls away, yanking himself from you with heaving breath while you cry out in disappointment.

“Beg,” he growls, slapping your ass before starting to build you up again.

You do. You beg endlessly, pleas and whines and praise spilling from your lips, broken by gasps and cries, but when you’re close, he pulls away again.

He kisses your swollen labia when you nearly sob in frustration.

“Mean,” you peek over your shoulder at him so he can see your wet eyes and exaggerated pout.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Just like you were earlier, teasin’ me.”

You gasp. “I made it up to you!”

He scoffs. “Yeah, but ya woulda sucked my cock anyway.”

Damn. He’s not wrong. That was as much for you as it was for him.

He’s stroking your clit gently, now, and you’re having a hard time keeping your brains in a line. Or ducks. Whatever it is, they’re not doing a very good job because you can’t remember what you’re mad about.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what, sweetheart? You need my tongue back?”

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp as he stuffs three fingers in your cunt.

“Hmm. Better apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” you say immediately.

He shakes his head. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I was teasing you, please, god-fucking—”

He’s sucking on your clit, pistoning his fingers hard enough that it almost matches the way his cock knocks your brain out.

Finally, finally, he doesn’t pull away. When you reach the edge, abdomen seizing, he works you through it and doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering on the other side.

He stands up, and you’d complain, but you’re too fucked out. Plus, he’s fully out of his jeans now, and all you have to do is stay like this, on your knees with your ass in the air.

He fists himself and drags the head up and down, parting you minutely but never slipping in. “Goddamn, you’re drippin’ for me.”

Your face is smushed into the pillow, but your moan is loud enough for him to hear.

“Whose cunt is this, sweetheart?”

“Wha?” you mumble.

He slaps your ass. “I said, whose pretty little cunt is this?”

“Yours, Joel.”

“And whose girl are you?”

You moan. “Yours, Joel.”

“That’s damn right.” He slams hard into you. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel. I’m your girl.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” he grunts, thrusting deep on each go, barely pulling out only to slam right in. “And I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re embarrassed about it later when he teases you, but his words make you cum.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock. Just how I like it.”

His hand rubs over your lower back as he talks you through it, and it spills over into another orgasm as you clench and shake around him.

His mouth is filthy tonight, peppered with the grunts and moans you love to soak in. His hands never leave you. Eventually, he stops to roll you over and fucks into you with your knees bent up to your chest. Your fingers dig into his arms desperately as the force of his thrusts knock the air out of you over and over and over.

“Fuck, sweetheart, cup your tits for me,” he pants, pulling out and holding his cock at the base while it weeps, and when you obey, he tugs once, twice, before covering them in his cum.

“Shit,” he says, chest heaving as he catches himself on one arm near your head, hovering over you. “Shit, sweetheart. So good to me.”

He lowers himself onto his side next to you and traces an idle finger through the mess on your chest.

“Did you just fucking write your name in cum on my tits?”

“No,” but he doesn’t tell you what he did write.

He kisses you instead, and you roll your eyes but kiss him back.

You wait until after he’s cleaned you both off and settled back in bed beside you.

“So what’s it gonna be? You gonna call me boo or babe? Or babycakes?”

He rolls his eyes. “Will you knock it off?”

“No,” you admit.

“‘Sides, I ain’t gotta come up with somethin’.”

You pour. “Why not? What if I want a cutesy nickname?”

He rolls onto his side and looks you in the eye. “Already call ya sweetheart, don’t I?”

You flush, heart stuttering. “Oh yeah,” you whisper.

“Good enough for ya?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “It’s perfect… sweetcheeks.”

His pillow smacks you in the face, and you cackle.

*title from "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet

[panakinthedisco]

MISTY ━━ Joel Miller

summary: it all started at a station stop, a conversation about your beloved country, and somehow, in that moment, joel miller became utterly captivated by you.

author's note: i specifically made this one-shot for my SEA and filipina girlies rahhhhhh🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅 🇵🇭 🇵🇭 🇵🇭 🇵🇭 🇵🇭 🇵🇭!!! we need more representation in this fandom so i had to do it <3 but i hope y'all enjoy this because this is just FLUFF :))

word count: 3k

“The Philippines must be very beautiful.” Joel Miller says to you when you tell him where you’re from. You trembled at the way he said your name — revealing much more of his Southern accent and also his undeniable charm. Even though no one calls your birth name, folks in your country called you by your nickname except your dear Lola back home in Manila. 

It makes you feel beautiful, or perhaps it’s just the lulling motion of this train to New York, the luxury of having nothing to do -– the way you feel on a holiday, you think, though you haven’t been on one since before you left for the United States five years ago. You’re not entirely sure. And now, you’re overwhelmed by the sensations you're experiencing with Joel Miller — thrilling and intense. Yet, in an instant, your Catholic guilt takes over, making you feel ashamed for enjoying his attention.

Religion has always been a central part of your life, ingrained in you by your overbearing mother, who is almost a fanatic. She vigorously enforced her beliefs, and you obeyed dutifully, attending Mass, saying your prayers, and adhering to the teachings of the Church. Your mother’s strict adherence to Catholicism shaped your upbringing, leaving little room for deviation.

But as you reflect, you admit to yourself that you secretly rebelled when you were younger. Those small acts of defiance, hidden from your mother's watchful eyes, were your way of reclaiming some sense of freedom. Now, as you sit on this train, the memories of those rebellions mix with the current thrill, leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions.

“It is beautiful,” You said softly, a little like a sigh. The sound of that small exhalation hangs in the dry air between you and Joel like a gauzy mosquito net that you and your cousins slept beneath when you were children while you’re staying over at your grandmother’s house. This was before Lola had air conditioners installed and they could shut out the mosquitoes. You had an urge to tell him that. And then, almost as if he hears your thoughts, Joel asks you what your home is like. 

Smiling, you begin to share your memories. "My grandmother owned a piece of land a few miles away from the city. We had a small family farm there. When I was younger, I used to play around the chicken pens and even feed the goats with my cousins. We'd pick pale yellow mangoes from the trees on the farm and line them up in rows on the grass to ripen in the sunshine."

Joel listens intently, his eyes reflecting a genuine interest. Encouraged, you continue, "We used to walk barefoot through the muddy rice fields and catch field snails, which we’d eat in the evening. I remember how we’d have competitions to see who could collect the most snails. I was quite competitive about it," you say with a laugh.

You describe how you would go fishing in the rice field ponds and in the swampy shallow waters, reaching down with your bare hands to catch mudfish. "It was always such a thrill to feel the slippery fish wriggle in your grasp," you add.

Your mind drifts back to those carefree days. "We'd also climb the trees and pick guavas and tamarinds, sometimes sneaking a few bites before bringing them back to Lola's kitchen. The smell of her cooking would fill the air, blending with the earthy scent of the countryside. In the evenings, we'd sit outside, listening to the cicadas and telling stories under the stars."

Joel's expression softens as he imagines the scenes you paint with your words. "It sounds like a paradise," he says, his voice low and thoughtful.

"It was," you reply, a touch of wistfulness in your tone. "Those memories are some of the happiest of my life."

Then Joel asks you, “Isn’t it a country of islands? What are the beaches like?” His hazel brown eyes pierce beneath the reading light of the train, filled with curiosity.

You smile, your mind immediately drifting to the many beautiful beaches you’ve visited. "Yes, it is a country of islands," you begin. "The beaches are incredible, each one unique. I've been to quite a few, but my favorite memories are from my mother's hometown on an island in Palawan called Cuyo."

Joel leans in closer, captivated by your words. "Cuyo is a small, quiet place, but it's absolutely stunning. The beaches there are like something out of a postcard—white sand, crystal-clear waters, and vibrant coral reefs just offshore. I always loved going to the beach there. The water is so clear that you can see the fish swimming around your feet."

You pause, reminiscing about the warmth of the sun and the gentle sound of the waves. "When I was a child, I would often go with the fishermen. They’d take their boats out early in the morning, and sometimes I’d tag along. The sea would be calm, and we’d glide over the water, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of pink and orange. They'd teach me how to cast nets and catch fish. It was an amazing experience, being so close to nature and learning from people who had lived off the sea for generations."

Joel's eyes remain fixed on you, his expression soft and engaged. You continue, "During the afternoons, we'd play on the beach, building sandcastles and collecting seashells. The island is surrounded by reefs, so snorkeling was a favorite activity. The underwater world is so colorful and full of life—it's like a hidden paradise."

You share more about the island's charm, the simple yet fulfilling life there. "We'd have picnics on the beach, with freshly caught seafood and tropical fruits. My mother would tell us stories about her own childhood, and we'd sit there, listening as the sun set over the horizon."

The memories flood back, each one more vivid than the last. "I also remember walking along the shore at night, the moonlight reflecting on the water. Sometimes, we'd see bioluminescent plankton, making the waves glow. It felt like magic."

Joel smiles, clearly enchanted by your stories. "It sounds like an incredible place," he says softly.

"It really is," you reply, a warm glow in your heart. "Cuyo and its beaches hold a special place in my memories. It's a place where time seems to slow down, and you can truly appreciate the beauty of nature."

You met Joel at the station stop in Chicago. He smiled at you, and you smiled back. That was all. He found the empty seat beside you. 

And it began with your name. It must have been foreign for Joel to hear a name that is not Americanized. He repeats your name – not like a question, but as though he likes the sound. Joel reaches for your hand, and shakes it, “I’m pleased to meet you.” 

The Amtrak 49 train moves from the Midwest to the East Coast, specifically New York. You opted to take the train to save on airfare, but the truth is, you also wanted a little extra time to unwind during the sixteen-hour journey. You are grateful to have met Joel Miller from Texas, who is also on his way to New York for a visit. It feels like an unexpected windfall, and you are giddy and thrilled to have him to intrigue and engage, just as he intrigues and engages you.

Joel Miller is an enchanting distraction, precisely because he seems equally captivated by you. You savor the minutes like sweets in your mouth. It's been so long since someone has paid you this much attention, and you feel flushed and drunk with it. 

You listen to Joel talk, struggling not to be wide-eyed and open-mouthed, though it’s hard to avoid his hazel brown eyes that make butterflies in your stomach flutter. He listens to you in that same way, as though every word that drops from your lips is candy-coated delicious. Thinking this, you pop a breath mint into your mouth when he isn’t looking. You feel absolutely silly about what you’re doing. 

He is older than her. He must be in his mid-thirties while you’re in the middle of the twenties, quite new to the corporate world and still struggling to keep up with the inflation. He didn’t mention whether he’s married or not but he might have a wife in Texas or in New York. Those thoughts flood into your head and you steal a glance — surprisingly, he’s looking at you too. 

What is he thinking, you think, don’t let him be thinking of you. And then just as quickly, please let him be thinking of me. 

You cannot help allowing yourself this quick sweet rush of happiness like having a man come to call at your house, bringing flowers or candy. Like a date on a weekday evening. Like that certain knowledge that someone yearns to kiss you.

You are wanted. You are beautiful in the eyes of Joel Miller.

As the train continues its journey, the conversation with Joel deepens. He suddenly asks, “Wasn’t there a big revolution in the Philippines in the 80s? The EDSA Revolution? I remember hearing about it on the news. It seemed to captivate the world.”

You nod, your expression turning serious. "Yes, the EDSA Revolution in 1986 was a pivotal moment in our history. My parents were both involved in it. My mother and father fought against the dictatorship. My father was a student activist at a prestigious university, and it was incredibly difficult for him."

Joel's eyes widened with interest, and you continue, "There were times when my father had to hide because of his controversial writings against the president and the government. He told us stories about how he hid in the countryside, constantly looking over his shoulder. It was terrifying for him."

You pause, your thoughts drifting back to the stories your father shared. "But he fought back by writing and eventually took part in the EDSA Revolution. I remember the tears in his eyes when he talked about tasting freedom for the first time. He always said he was doing it for us, for me and my siblings."

Joel is silent for a moment, clearly moved by your story. "Your father is incredibly brave," he says softly. "To stand up against such a regime and fight for what he believed in... that's remarkable."

You smile, a mix of pride and sadness in your eyes. "He is brave. He risked everything for a cause he believed in, for a future he wanted for his children. The EDSA Revolution was a peaceful protest, but it was filled with so much emotion and hope. My father's involvement in it shaped who he is and, in turn, who I am."

Late at night, Joel asks you if you want to get something to eat. The dining car is open. You agreed to his invitation and made way down the aisle. The car is dark and most of the passengers are slumped in sleep, their shapes suggest they are in the most comfortable position possible, given the uncomfortable circumstances. Their heads are buried under coats and sweaters. Every now and then, a snore emitted from an old man. Or a faint cry from a hungry baby in the back of the car. When you stumbled from your step, losing your balance, Joel grabs you and clasps your hand in his to steady you. 

They order cups of coffee and eat crumbly stale chocolate chip cookies out of small carton boxes. You did not remember when you had talked so long or laughed so much. And it is exciting to know that as you both talk, towns and cities rush past in a midnight blur. Both of you are far away from everything. 

Close to four in the morning, you both stumbled down the aisle, back to your seats. You are already sleepy  in a warm, comfortable way. Your eyelids are heavy, like they have been smeared with thick honey, and sure enough, they close stickily. You let your head drop and fall lightly to rest upon his shoulder. 

When Joel reaches over to flick your reading light, you sighed, inhaling his scent. For an instant, you open your eyes but it is completely dark and quiet except for the sound of the train on its tracks. As you exhaled you fell asleep, but not before hearing Joel’s hoarse whisper as he fixed the unruly hair that is covering your face and tucked it behind your ear. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

Joel calls you on your phone, his voice urgent. It’s been a week since your last meeting and he asked for your number  — in which you gave it to him. You were not expecting anything in return and your long conservation is enough for you but at the back of your mind — you wish he’ll call you.

Hearing his voice almost made you stunned. You missed him and his presence. 

“Have lunch with me today?” he says. 

"I..I don't know." You said. It is indeed a bad time because you have a lot of things to do which is babysitting your aunt’s daughter but you looked over to the living room where your aunt is already busy taking care of your niece.

He speaks once again, "I have to see you. I have to show you something."

You looked at your wristwatch. You calculate the number of hours and you realize you can get away. You do have the time. You are heartbeat quickens. You want to see what he has to show you. But even more than that, you want to see him.

You clear your throat. In a low voice, you said, "Where should I meet you, Joel?"

Both of you meet in Central Park. Winter is on its last legs, and the air has a bit of warmth to it. Still, you wished that you were indoors. Your raincoat is very fluffy and lined but it is just warm enough for you.

"It's not raining," Joel says when he sees you.

"But it might." You said. "It might get colder. It might rain. I cannot take any chances."

"Okay."Joel smiles tenderly at you. You let yourself smile back, thinking, how dare he be. How sweet he is. He tells you,"Come on, I have a surprise for you."

You both walked briskly through the park, through the tree-lined paths, until they came to the gates of the Central Park Zoo.

"Here?" You asked him, Joel nods. "I was here yesterday. That's when I saw it."

You’re confused what he meant, "What?"

But Joel  shakes his head,  "You'll love it." He says. And he will not say anything anymore.

Both of you walked in the wet puddles that were once ice and snow. Although the leaves have still to emerge, people in the park are out with their books, perched on benches and big rocks by the pond, their faces to the sun as though they are tanning on a summer day.

You shivered, you cannot help it. Because it is cold, yes, but also because of now.

Joel takes your hand. Maybe because he saw you shiver. You glance at him uncertainly, and once more, catch him looking at you.

"Tell me." 

He squeezes your hand. "Be patient." He says, as if to a child.

At the ticket gate, the attendant warns that because of the cold, not all the animals may be out and about. Joel laughs, and says,

"That's perfectly alright."

Once inside the zoo's gates, Joel walks with more speed. You had to trot to keep up because he would not slow down. He squeezes your hand again and tells you to close your eyes.

You did, and you are not afraid to fall with him leading you. You feel the cool air on your face, the gravel beneath your feet. You hear the seals barking, splashing in their pool.

His grip on your hand is stronger. Although you cannot see, you take steps with confidence.

Both of you stopped. You realized that you are both entering a building.

"Step up, sweetheart," Joel tells you. You hope that you didn’t blush. 

All at once, a heat washes over, a fantastic wet, green heat so heavy, you are forced to draw a breath. You opened your eyes. You are in a jungle of thick ripe foliage. There is nobody else around. You can hear the cries of birds, the thick rustle of leaves and from somewhere, the sound of rain and trickling water. You can see trees, of deep green and black and brown, as you take your steps, you feel the soft ground beneath your feet.

You have never seen anything like this before.

You climb the wooden walkway through this tropical rain forest in the Central Park Zoo. The bridge is overlooking a small waterfall and beside it, there is steam rising from what you know is some hidden vent. Tiny beads of perspiration spring to your skin. You blow the bangs off your forehead. 

At the other end of the bridge, Joel is still standing at the other side of the bridge and he is staring at you. As he wants to take everything about you. And then, your heart fluttered by his soft gaze.

And then, he went to you while your eyes never left his. He takes both of your hands in his, leans in and whispers in your ear, warm breath against your neck. “This is how it is in the Philippines, right? Isn’t this the way it is?” 

You nodded and you know what is coming next. You feel that heat and stop thinking. You closed your eyes as Joel went closer to kiss you. 

Moments later, you answered him, “Yes, this is the way it is.” 

You thought if you haven't met Joel Miller on a train or maybe someday, against all the laws of probability, both of you met in another place or time but it doesn't matter right now. Meeting Joel Miller is a prelude to something wonderful and you felt it at the very beginning. 

That swift, surprising transition from nothing to everything.

AVAILABLE ON A03

☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @alderaandors

[jaydenix]

20 years on, Sokka is still one of the best male role models in all of media

We need more young men written like him

What's there not to love about Sokka? As ATLA's resident comic relief guy, crazy shit that happens to him is always a good laugh. He's full of himself and overconfident which combined with a stellar voice acting performance by Jack DeSena makes for a very fun character. But one of the most intriguing things about him is his relationship with manhood.

Sokka begins the show very close-minded on the subject of gender, he believes he's just innately better than woman (especially Katara) because he is a man. At this point he thinks he's on top of the world and he knows everything. After all, he has been put in a great position of power in protecting his tribe after the men left to fight. For what his world currently is his quite on top of things, but his world is about to expand 100 times over.

Once Aang arrives he's tasked with coming along with him and and his sister to head to the North Pole, but early on they arrive on Kyoshi Island and meet the Kyoshi Warriors, this is what begins to break down his superiority complex where he challenges his later girlfriend Suki to a fight and she fucks up his shit. This causes him to unravel what he believes about gender, that he is better than women because he is a man. But his adventure with becoming a man has only just begun.

Throughout the rest of the show, we uncover more about Sokka having to be left behind by his father, he was just barely not old enough to go away to fight and that hurt him real bad, he feels his ability to fight made him a man, but this robbed right out from under him due to his age. Though having spent 2 years stuck without seeing his father and having spent several months out flying around on a bison taking on the Fire Nation, of course he becomes way stronger and way smarter perhaps not dissimilar to how he would've done if he was able to go off and fight 2 years prior. Eitherway, when he finally sees his father and the men of the Southern Water Tribe again at the end of book 2, he's understandably incredibly nervous because he's unsure of how they'll respond. He's left wondering whether they will see him as a man? And of course, they all do, they shake his hand and one of them is comparing heights as he's gotten a lot bigger, he's now an equal to them. They left him a boy, but they reunited with a man. And the classic moment where Hakoda says to him "aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle" like FUCK yeah man Hakoda doesn't even give a second thought here to his son's manhood he just knows his boy is all grown up I love him.

Now, you all know this, so why am I talking about it? Well, Sokka is such an incredibly positive representation of masculinity: his journey to manhood doesn't involve being better or putting down women or anyone for that matter. It even challenges him on this when he thinks thats what it involves. Being a man to him is knowing where you're needed the most, and he fulfils that by trying to bring about peace in the world and helping his friends and others. This is what masculinity should be.

It seems right now a lot of young men are being radicalised into far-right red-pill ideologies which promote masculinity as mistreatment of others. How on earth do we solve this issue to prevent men diving head first into the brazen misogyny of people like Andrew Tate? I don't know, but a lot of people are increasingly frustrated with hardships in this modern world and look for some kind of scapegoat. Now, don't get me wrong, it's really easy to not be a flaming misogynist, and the grievances that the MRA/manosphere lobby enjoy highlighting like idk men being more lonely supposedly? Or not being able to find "ideal" partners because of the woke anti-men feminism mob or whatever? Whereas feminists point to you know things like rape? And abortion restriction? And domestic violence? Real actual issues that affect millions of women all over the world every single day? Undoubtedly I think a lot of men need to do a bit more critical thinking. But perhaps a small part of solving this problem might just be more shows and movies and media portraying young men like Sokka who learn to embrace a non-toxic and healthy form of masculinity. Maybe this will help even just a few young boys not be pulled into these dangerous ideas as they have their own independent idea of how to be a man that was guided through well written and interesting characters. Though of course there's a lot more to it as well, this is just one thing I've thought of.

"One is not born, but becomes a woman" is a common quote thrown around in feminism, and to me Sokka is the perfect example of someone who wasn't born, but became a man through his own good actions.

👏 More 👏 Young 👏 Men 👏 Like 👏 Sokka 👏 Please 👏

[broadwaybalogna]

@calderacitylovers : “Prompts, you say?

New Ambassador of the Northern Water Tribe to the Fire Nation is hitting on Ambassador Katara. Suddenly the Firelord can’t take it anymore and is spurred into action.”

I love this prompt sm I pray I do it justice

Please please please send prompts in my asks!! I love y’all’s prompts so much I NEED them. I eat them up. I gobble them. Nom nom nom.

-

Katara was seventeen when Sinjun was sent from the northern water tribe to act as the northern water tribe ambassador in the Fire Lord’s council.

Sinjun was a tall and burly man with an incredible presence. The moment he entered the council room for the first time, he had grasped everyone’s attention.

While Katara had taken notice of the man, she was far too concentrated on her own work to pay him much mind during his first meeting. Other members on the council found themselves helping him around anyway, so Katara pushed the thought of him to the back of her mind.

The thought was pushed back to the front of her mind when he approached her after the third meeting. She attempted to remember all she could about the man who stood almost a foot taller than her.

“Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, correct?” He asked as he approached the girl.

“Yes. And you are Sinjun, from the Northern Tribe? How may I assist you?” Katara always made sure to keep her work relationships professional, making sure everyone saw her as a colleague and equal. She learned early on that the easiest way to be previewed as such was to make no personal connections in regards to her job. Zuko was her only exception to this decision.

“Ah, well-“ the man who was no younger than his mid twenties seemed taken aback, “you helped aid the Avatar in his journey to overtake fire lord Ozai, right? Now, I’ve only heard rumors, but you couldn’t have been older than sixteen at the time, am I right?”

“Well, I was fourteen.” She clarified.

“I see, so that’d make you seventeen now?”

Katara nodded, suspicious of the man’s motives.

“Well, that is admirable. You are truly a woman of fine culture.”

“Ah, thank you Sinjun,” she smiled, still sensing that something was off.

Later that night, Katara brought up her hesitations regarding Sinjun to Zuko. Though it may have just been a ruse to get him to spend time with her.

“And then he said I was a lady of ‘fine culture’. What does that even mean?” She huffed as she crossed her arms and angrily sat in one of the various chairs in Zuko’s office. “Woah, is this new? It’s very soft,” her attitude immediately changed as she felt the cushion from under her.

Zuko laughed at her change in behavior and lifted his head from the note he was writing. “Yes actually, I had it made from the same material your parka’s were made of in the southern water tribe,” he said, smiling.

Katara blushed. “Wow,” she said, readjusting herself to feel more comfortable in the chair, if that was even possible.

“Perhaps Sinjun just meant you are a great representation of the women in the water tribes,” Zuko finally proposed, bringing Katara back on track with her thoughts.

“Hmm, maybe. Something was just weirdly off about him. Ugh, it’s probably nothing.” She rolled her eyes at herself.

“No, I’ll have a couple of my advisors keep an eye out on him. If you say something seems off, I’ll trust your gut.”

Katara smiled, “thanks Zuko.”

“Of course.”

She ended up sleeping in his office while he worked. And Zuko eventually dozed off on his own over his desk.

-

Katara was seventeen and a half when Sinjun approached her asking about her birthday.

“It’s in a few months,” she absentmindedly responded as she wrote a few notes from their past meeting down. Sinjun had made it a habit to approach her every so often. Not often enough to raise a large amount of suspicion, but still often.

“So you’ll finally be an adult?”

Katara paused her writing to look up at him, confusion clearly written on her face. “Yeah…” she finally said, offering the man an awkward smile.

“It’s hard to believe how long it’s been since Sozins Comet.”

“Hm,” she thought to herself. It had been a long while, a little over three years now. She felt much older when she thought about it. She felt the weight of her lost childhood. She especially felt the weight of the world. If she told her younger self that the hardest part of this endeavor would be the politics following their victory, she would have laughed in her own face.

By the time Katara was taken back out of her thoughts, Sinjun was gone. Katara sighed and returned to her work.

That night, she slept in Zuko’s office again, but not before relaying the past events to her friend.

“-But he got me thinking, y’know, about how long it’s been, and how old I feel now.”

Zuko laughed, “you’re not even an adult yet, Kat. how is time already catching up to you?.”

“I suppose it’s the weight of the world,” she half-joked, even though it was somewhat true. The future of the world was literally up to Zuko’s council. One wrong move and everything would go up in flames.

“Yes, but I see it’s made you strong,” he commented, “have you been working out?”

“Just the usual cardio. I go out on runs right out there,” she said as she flexed her biceps, bent her wrist, pointed out the window in Zuko’s office.

They both laughed as they continued to share stories about the past few days.

This had grown to be a common occurrence for each of them. Katara would step into Zuko’s office at some point in the evening and they’d pass out not long after sharing stories and talking with one another.

It was good for them both to have a constant in the ever changing world. It provides grounding for the both of them.

-

It was Katara’s eighteenth birthday when Sinjun tried to kiss her. Well, it was less of a kiss and more of a ‘he leaned in a little too close with his eyes closed and Katara punched him square in the face before she could even think’ type thing.

A few members of Zuko’s council had planned a surprise party for Katara’s birthday and invited the entire council, including Sinjun.

The night went about as expected. They all played games, ate food, forced Katara to not talk about foreign policy, and worked hard to make sure everyone had a good time.

Perhaps somewhere along the way, Katara had made more personal relationships with her coworkers than she originally thought. Or maybe her absentminded comments about her life she said to her council members as they tried to spark conversation while she worked became too personal.

Overall though, Katara decided she would work harder to create better relationships with the people she would be working with for the years to come.

After coming to that conclusion, she decided to get some fresh air outside near the palace gardens. Music from inside could still be heard but she paid it no mind. She took a seat on a bench nearby a fountain that was just an inch too small to keep all the water contained. She took a few deep breathes and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, not a minute later, Sinjun stood before her.

“Lady Katara,” he greeted.

“Hello Sinjun.”

“Why are you out here alone and not inside?” He pried.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air.”

There were a few moments of silence before Sinjun spoke again.

“May I sit with you?”

“Actually, I was just about to go back inside-“ Katara said as she stood up and began to dust herself off. When she looked back up, Sinjun was just a couple steps away.

“Just a moment,” he insisted as he stepped closer to her. Katara felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as she moved closer.

“Katara..” he took her hands in his own. Katara felt her face contorted into something resembling disgust. But Sinjun couldn’t see her because his eyes were closed and he was leaning in and-

“WHAT THE HELL!”

Katara stepped back and let out a gasp at the older man’s outburst.

“I’m so sorry- you were just there and I was here and then you-“

“I tried to kiss you!? Yeah, that was the point!”

Katara paused her sputtering, “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve been waiting since you were seventeen for this!”

“Waiting?”

“Yes! Agni, you women are so complicated!”

Before Katara could muster up something to say, Zuko came running out

“Is everything alright? I heard someone yell.” His voice slowed as she approached the scene in front of him. He carefully analyzed both Katara and Sinjun, who were both a mess in their own respects.

“This girl needs to learn how to properly respect men. Especially men who are willing to be patient for them.”

“Patient!? I- since when-“ Katara began sputtering again, now on the brink of tears, clearly unaware of Sinjun’s actual intentions. Even though she had suspected something off about him, she never would have considered that he liked her.

“What do you mean by that?” Zuko attempted to clarify. He started making his way toward Katara who was now sitting back on the bench.

“I mean that I’ve been waiting a year for some mutual appreciation and all I’ve gotten is a punch in the face!” Sinjun exclaimed, “Talk some sense into the southern peasant,” he said as he began walking away.

Katara hadn’t heard the word peasant in a long time. So much so that it had become a foreign fern to her. But hearing it again brought back memories of the war she would’ve preferred to forget. A time when Zuko wasn’t by her side was a time she didn’t want to remember all that often, not after all he had done for her.

“Can I-“ Zuko finally said after a few long moments, gesturing to the seat beside Katara. She nodded her head that was now in her hands as she tried to wipe tears from her face.

“God, I’m so stupid. How couldn’t I tell he wanted more than just friendship?” She internally criticized herself.

“No one could tell.” Zuko said as he placed his hand on her back, rubbing up and down. “One thing I can tell now, though, is that Sinjun’s an asshole who won’t be on this council from now on, so long as I’m the fire lord. Katara chuckled at Zuko’s behavior. “Hey, I’m serious!”

“Yeah, and I’m a turtleduck,” she joked, sniffling a little afterward. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

“Of course, Katara! I was worried about you y’know?”

“Yeah, I really just wanted some fresh air.”

Katara took a deep breath and sighed.

“It’s a beautiful night. It shouldn’t be ruined by one man.”

The little music that could still be heard from inside was slow. Katara closed her eyes again and swayed to the tempo of the song. After opening her eyes, she turned to Zuko. “How about a dance?” She spoke.

“I- what?”

“You said the night shouldn’t be ruined. A dance under the stars would certainly help make it all the more beautiful.”

Zuko sighed and stood up, offering his hand to Katara. “Sure, whatever. But I should warn you, I missed the years in the palace where I was supposed to learn how to dance.” Zuko said, making a nod to his past exile.

“I’d say you spent a good amount of time dancing around the Avatar, though,” Katara said as she smirked.

Zuko laughed and led her through a (mostly) graceful dance.

Eighteen was certain to be an eventful year for the waterbender. But with Zuko awkwardly stepping on her feet during a dance every now and then, she was sure she would get through it quite nicely.

[avelera]

So for fic purposes, I was thinking about what Cori represents to Dream beyond like, some severe repressed homosexuality that he literally outsourced to a suave cool version of himself who is blond and wears white and has a US southern accent ANYWAY...

So what if we expand a little beyond what I think of as the core nightmare of Dream embodied in Cori - that looking upon men with desire will get you killed. Which. Hello, repression. But here's some (Watsonian, Dream-specific) other thoughts:

- Cori as the representation of the danger of loving Dream - if you look upon this being with desire, you will die

- Dream's own fear of himself as a grasping creature hungry to share his lover's life, ie their experiences, embodied by how Cori hungers for their eyeballs specifically, but again, which is ultimately a destructive relationship and it will lead to their deaths

- Cori as a force that leads to fathers learning that their adult sons are dead, something Dream experienced, though through Cori's destructiveness this fate is being visited on others to experience

- Cori as a force that leads fathers to learn that their adult sons died specifically during a (largely forbidden during Cori's lifetime which began in the 1600s) act of love and specifically with a forbidden lover - again possibly mirroring Orpheus's ultimate fate of forbidden love leading to his ruin

- Cori as literally impossible to love safely but always hungering, outward, for new lovers and new experiences, knowing they will always be destroyed during or immediately after that coupling

- Cori as a representation of Dream needing therapy just... so much therapy

[starzzmissthesun]

ohhhh…oh. bartylus preacher’s daughter au…i need to know more!!! which of them is the preacher’s daughter!! which of them is the cannibal!! vital and imperative questions that i fear i won’t be able to stop thinking about until i receive an answer…

Well, here's the thing... I'm not following the story of preachers daughter exactly, purely cause like, Isaiah didn't love ethel, he kidnapped, drugged, and forced her into prostitution, his cannibalism wasn't an act of love, it was of hunger and control. It was a representation of her fate and karma from herself and her parent's wrongdoings coming back, eternally the martyr. She was so drugged she thought they we're in love, and then reality came too late. Preachers daughter itself MUCH darker story than I'm putting out (hate to admit it😔) because I want them to actually love each other lol. Regulus is the preachers daughter and barty takes on more of the role of Willoughby Tucker (love forever) (house in Nebraska, high school sweetheart guy) I'm using the story and the songs to interpretation rather than exactly writing the same story, along with using her unreleased stuff and EPs, (I'm planning on making a little chapter by chapter playlist for it, cause most are based onn specific songs). I'm not going to include literal cannibalism, just more so as a metaphor. I just don't think that's the vital story of preachers daughter AT ALL, it's definitely been super popularized but it's not even the end of her story, there's so much more to it, and that's why I think I want to focus on that other stuff because it's never talked about. The main parts I'm taking is the role of the mother and ethels relationship with her family and generational trauma(and ofc religion which I could go into for days) . I also am making it scary and horror- like (though it won't be all that) but more so simalar to southern Gothic genre if you know about that (I could go on for days if u want) where the main importance is of social commentary using these small almost supernatural towns. The main part of the fic takes place in an incredibly small town in Louisiana, it is very very Catholic(that's just the Christian denomination I grew up in so I know about it, though ethel's is Baptist). Regulus' father is the beloved preacher of the town until he passes away in a fire when reg is 10. Him and his brother have a way larger age gap. The story starts off in Regulus and barty's second year of high school and takes place over about 4 years or so. It does incorporate PD songs heavily into the plot (except Gibson girl I think). I haven't decided quite yet how I want the story to resolve yet, but neither of them are going to be cannibalized literally, sorry😭I wanted to, but I just can't see it in any other light than betrayal, especially because of the whole hard times and fate thing. I'm gonna leave it there for now but PLEASE if you have any other questions lmk🙏🙏🙏

[descendant-of-truth]

I recently decided to watch the Last Airbender movie in full for the first time for analytical purposes (and as a fresh comparison for the upcoming Netflix series), and like. yeah, it's still decidedly Not Good, but everyone's already talked about that so instead I wanna write about the stuff I actually thought was interesting.

Some small things, first: despite it not really having any cultural significance, I was weirdly fond of Aang's red cloak?? Like it could've looked a little less like it belonged on a jedi, but it functions well for hiding his tattoos when necessary and makes for a cool silhouette.

Plus, it works as a good representation of the part of him that just wants to run away and hide from his responsibilities - something that the original design never really needed to account for, per se, but it still makes for a neat edition.

The movie cuts out the quirky conversation with Aang after freeing him from the iceberg in favor of him being too delirious from a 100 year coma to say anything, and on principle, this isn't. great. but the more I think about it, I think it comes down to the fact that his actual introduction to Katara and Sokka is so dry, not because they waited to have him wake up.

In fact, I think this could've worked out really well! The longer Aang takes to wake up properly, the longer everyone else has to develop an image in their head of what he's going to be like, and the bigger their surprise when this kid who was barely conscious and on the verge of hypothermia a few minutes ago starts bouncing off the walls with this big smile on his face.

The time spent at the Southern Air Temple also introduces a few things that I liked, for example: Aang actually namedropping some of his friends from there

Petition to bring back Chinto and Monae for the Netflix version

But for real, that scene just made me realize how kinda. odd, it is, that Aang never mentions any of the Air Nomads by name other than Monk Gyatso originally. We know he was friends with Bumi and Kuzon, but did he not consider any of his peers to be good friends of his?

More importantly though - just like in the original, Aang recognizes Gyatso's skeleton by his necklace. Unlike the original, however, this necklace is one that Aang made for him.

And I love this idea, but ohh boy do I not like how under-explored it is in the movie. You're telling me that they decided to have Aang make a necklace for his now-deceased parental figure, and didn't use that as an opportunity for him to connect with Katara?? The one who wears her mother's necklace as a memento???

Regardless of whether or not Aang decided to keep Gyatso's necklace, it's a conversation that absolutely deserved to happen, and despite the chances of it being extremely low, it's something I'd like to see the new version take a crack at.

Also this was just a genuinely cool action setpiece, the idea of using spinning boards as both a defensive and offensive structure for crowd control is super creative and I love it

The fight between Aang and Zuko at the north pole was also great; even though there was uncharacteristic lack of bending involved, they were able to capture a real sense of frantic energy and got some really cool moves in there that are difficult to show properly through screenshots.

Definitely one of the biggest changes to a plot beat (in my opinion) comes in the form of Aang struggling with waterbending rather than being a natural at it, and you know what? Probably my hottest take of this post is that I think this is a worthwhile angle to explore.

Water is the element of change, and in the movie, it's said to teach its benders "acceptance." On a purely tangible level, the movements for water and airbending are pretty similar, and they're both kind of "floaty" in a way. But ideologically? What part of Aang at this point in time has a grasp on how to handle change, much less reach acceptance?

He ran away from home because he was scared of all the sudden changes happening in his life. He didn't want to be the Avatar, and couldn't accept what that meant for him.

So, from that perspective, doesn't it make sense that water could be difficult for him to learn? I mean, no matter what you do with air, it's still just air, and it's everywhere. You don't really have to worry about not having enough of it in most situations.

But with water, you gotta think about what forms you can make with what you have, you need to be able to change its form from liquid to solid and back again, and it's just a lot more dynamic and weighty than what he's used to dealing with.

Combine that with just not being in the right headspace for learning after The Horrors and yeah, I'd totally believe that there's a world out there where Aang struggles to waterbend! A shame that it had to be this world, where the writers have little interest in exploring it beyond letting him make a Really Big Wave at the end in lieu of a character arc, but an idea with potential nonetheless

(Speaking of which, while not nearly as satisfying as the original finale, this shot does look extremely cool)

Overall, this was actually a pretty entertaining viewing experience! I already knew what to expect when it came to its flaws, which in turn made it easier to focus in on the parts that were interesting for me.

I went into it for a thought experiment, and it gave me a lot more thoughts to experiment with than I was expecting, so y'know what? I call that a net positive in this case.

(Also if anyone can link me to the comic adaptation of this movie, please do, I would love to know exactly what the differences are and how the art looks but I can't find it anywhere)

[utilitycaster]

I can't speak for anyone else but the thing about the Mighty Nein depiction criticisms is that, in and of itself, this is tiny and inconsequential and it is on some level very silly it's a hot topic of discussion. But it also manages to hit nearly everything that frustrates me in fandom.

It's about the belief that fanon is better simply because it is fanon. It's about people saying "haha, I rub my grubby hands on the canon" and then become furious when people look at what they've made - something sticky, sweaty, jam-covered, and crumpled - and choose to walk past it.

It's about how people will claim that fix-it-fics are always better, actually, because isn't it always better when they recover? And then when a show actually shows recovery, in far more depth than most depictions have room to offer, and it's realistic, which is to say, nonlinear and messy, detailed and unglamorous, they hate it.

It's about how Fjord and Jester's dying plants mean unhappiness (and a specific type of unhappiness no less) but Beau, Yasha, and Caleb's thriving plants don't mean happiness. It's about being able to fabricate paragraphs in favor of what you always wanted from a single blink, a glance, a word, the cast's physical appearance in an episode they did not explicitly dress up for; but when the story says in blunt, direct terms that the color of this character's hair is a direct reflection of the state of their mind, rejecting it for the aesthetic. It's about complaining that it's not that deep when the depth says something you don't like, and then turning around and digging as far as you personally need to support a pre-existing belief.

It's about how when Caduceus was shown with his pink hair fading, there was an almost gleefully morbid speculation of "is he dying? oh god I hope he both is and isn't dying, I want the thrill of unresolved angst but if he actually dies I will throw a fit." And then the answer was actually both deeply mundane and also fascinating with regards to his character arc, and suddenly no one wanted to talk about it. It's about a detestation for showing the incremental yet fractal nature of life. It's about wanting everything to be a tentpole blockbuster Save-The-Cat just-the-hits carbon copy formula while simultaneously claiming it would be more original and interesting to do so.

It's about thinking of media not as entertainment or even meaning, but simply as a vehicle of representation and how the show you already watch must become all things to you. Sure! Would be cool to have more US Southern Accents in fantasy! But that isn't Fjord's story, and indeed, the banality of the accent is the point. It's okay to want a southern accent; but there is this irrational demand in fandom that whatever you're already watching provide everything, instead of taking the frankly very minimal effort to branch out and find something else that does.

It's about how so many people don't want a story; they want a snapshot. They want one single moment in time, one where the people in their ship kiss; where their favorite character receives a frozen instant of catharsis; the inhale just before the life-altering decision, endlessly teetering on the precipice of corruption. But there's no understanding of how to make the story that is actually happening reach that point, and no understanding of what happens when the characters pull away from the kiss, wipe away their tears, make the choice, and keep moving forward.

It's about simultaneously treating characters as real people: that death is never justified, that tragedy is always terrible; and then turning around and screaming at the characters when they act as though, within the story, they have agency. They can live - they must live - but only if they dance on your command. It's about the complete reverse and scornful rejection of how one must see characters if you want to actually say anything worth saying in fiction, as tools of a narrative and yet also rich and real and able to move on their own even when you're not looking.

It's about wanting mirrors and never windows; it's about a profound inability to surrender control and actually listen to what someone who is not exactly you has to say, yet telling yourself this is diversity; it's about potential energy that never once becomes kinetic; it's about style with no substance; it's glossy, and it's hollow, and I am so tired of all of it.

[ananad1]

I have just watched the School For Good and Evil movie and I have feelings:

Spoilers ahead obviously.....

If I had never read the books then this movie would be great and something I would enjoy at lot, but I have read the books and so it is an ok movie at best.

There are a few things I enjoyed about the movie

Anemone- her character was funny and stayed fairly true to the books

The beginning scene of the School Masters fighting, while unnecessary, was interesting and kept with the book in everyone believing Good had won out over Evil

At lot of the cast did a good job of making their characters work on screen given what they had to work with

Seeing Soman was a nice surprise and a fun nod with him being an Evil professor

Unfortunately the things I didn't like vastly out weigh those I did

I love all most all of the characters in the books and so many of them were done dirty

Other than Tedros and Tristan (and Gregor) the Ever boys were not given name and only a very limited number of the Ever Girls were as well. And all of the Evers were just straight up rude, bnot passive aggressive and acting with like 'southern charm' type of insults.

The Never boys had no mention, accept for Hort, and the Never girls had almost no better. The Nevers also all seemed to be closer to just regular teens rather than Evil, with the kill them all the time and nothing else.

Honora was already married to Sophie's father which is a big source of Sophie's problems in the future, and Honora is shown as being cruel or at the very least mean, which even in Sophie's POV in the books she is not.

Poor Hort somethings that really bothered me about his portrayal were that he came off as really creepy, which I feel like was not a bad in the books.

He also mentioned being Captain Hook's son, which is very much not the case, his father worked on Captain Hook's ship and Hort did know Hook, but Hook wasn't his father.

In the books it is explicitly stated several times that Hort is a MAN WOLF and not a werewolf (and that there are specific distinctions between the two).

Hort also did not come off as nerdy as I would have liked as well, but that may just be me.

The Coven's portrayals also bothered me a lot. They are the only Never girls other than Sophie who have names and it doesn't give them much. Yes they kept Hester's Demon and Dot's chocolate powers, but that is barely enough to separate them from one another. There is no power dynamic between any of them and they almost immediately fall to Sophie's feet.

In the book Anadil and Hester never did Sophie's makeover and though it was stupid, they were first in line in the movie.

I am plus sized and was looking forward to the representation from Dot, which just wasn't there. She was only slightly bigger than Hester and much smaller than Anadil, which takes away from her character and future development.

Anadil's casting did not fit for me, not because she was black, but because in the books she is albino. I feel like the albino community is underrepresented in movies (I could be wrong). And they could still have cast someone black, who is albino.

Hester had no real leadership role and was never shown to be the best and what Sophie needed to beat. And not including her in the Trial By Tale was a huge mistake.

Making Lesso 'in love' with Rafal was just stupid and didn't work for her and took away from the established relationship she had with Dovey through all the books.

Dovey was a differnt character and was not at all who she was in the books

Cutting some of the teachers was another mistake, specifically Sader, Princess Uma, Castor (and Pollix), and the Man Wolf (who I am counting as a teacher because)

Sader is massively important to the first book at the very least, but his overarching character is necessary for every other book. Whether it is for established characters or establishing new characters.

Princess Uma is also an important character, she comes in to play in several of the very crucial scenes in almost all of the other books.

Castor is a fan favorite and if you have him Pollix would need to be there too, but given how some of the CGI wasn't great maybe not having them was better than seeing them butchered.

Without the Man Wolf Sophie's character missed out on a major emotional and tide turning moment.

There were some scenes that needed to be included and some that were there that could have been so much better. And some that were added that should not have been there at all.

The Circus of Talents is a major part of the book and shows everyone Agatha's true power, as well as, showing how cruel the School Master is. Agatha's power also reveals what actually happens when you fail.

I wanted my animal stampede. Having it be Gregor that Tedros kills is fine, but only have it be him and no other animals realizing Agatha's power after the Wish fish sucked. Also they destroy the school which then needs to be dealt with and is a great backdrop for the rest of the story.

The Candy hall and Agatha eating it and getting in trouble (further ostracizing her from everyone else) is also important.

Tedros seeing Sophie's reflection and realizing what she is and then pulling Agatha further away from her is something I wanted to see.

Agatha's dress for the Snow Ball was clearly laid out (and something I would like to buy if anyone wants to make it for me) in the book and beautiful. The movie gave her a very simple, more simple than anything else she had worn up to that point, Cinderella like dress and called it a day and it was very disappointing.

Agatha wearing pants and a jacket, with colors other than just black, also didn't make sense to me. She only ever wore black until she was forced not to in the books.

By that same token, why were none of them in uniform, that would have been an easy way to keep things clearly defined and not get confusing as to who is Good and Evil.

I also did not understand why they were eating inside and all together, when in the books they were extremely separated.

And one of the only times they were not separated in the book was Forest Groups which was just all of the Evers instead, with no fun challenges.

Giving everyone the same finger glow (for the most part) was lazy and made it even more difficult to tell them apart. All of the main characters in the book had laid out colors that were all different.

Dot was never ostracized from the Coven and did not have any issues presented to her at all.

There were no School Crests which is another big piece in the book since you can't cover them up in any way.

There was almost no Morgfifing at all which was sad.

Anadil's rats were pretty much nowhere to be found.

Since Agatha only went to Evil once, there was no

Frog Pajamas

Barrier

Cockroach

They took away all off the mystery of the Head Master by having him talk to the students. And then Agatha was immediately believed when she said she spoke to him. And no one ever found out that their story was being told.

Agatha and Sophie did not already know about the school and kids did not get kidnapped every four years, which is very clear in the books.

Sophie was also way too nice and did not come off nearly as mean as she was supposed to. And she wasn't using Agatha as a good deed, they were friends since they were kids which doesn't make sense.

Sophie never failed so we didn't get to see her F is for Fabulous dresses or her teaching the Nevers how to improve themselves.

Agatha's casting bothered me too, again not because she was black, but because she was way too pretty automatically. Agatha learns to accept herself the way she is and is never out right conventionally attractive. (Speaking of I'm mad they cut that scene with Dovey)

They didn't do the side kicks, which takes out some of the fun towards the end with Sophie and Beatrix and what their sidekicks are sent to do to Agatha.

The addition of Blood magic was unnecessary and should not have been added.

I honestly think if they really wanted the narration then it should have been Soman doing it, but it wasn't really needed.

Agatha and Tedros liking each other right away pissed me off because they start by hating each other and then slowly see each other as who they really are.

Excalibur being magic was weird and didn't need to happen.

Sophie kissing Rafal also didn't fit (him popping up all over the place was stupid too) and is just going to make any sequels confusing, since in the book it didn't happen until the end of book two for the first time.

I have more thoughts if anyone wants to hear them, but my hand hurts and it won't let me type more on this text box.

[the-invested-ranger]

Ranger Gathering 2023

Prompt 1: Camp

This Prompt Fic uses an OC I made a long time ago, before I knew about Royal Ranger. If you don’t like reading OC content then this ain’t for you.

The OC in question is named Leanna Harris, Lea for short. Yes she is a female ranger, I made her when I was a teenager and before I discovered DnD to sate my representation needs. If you want a description of Lea or any additional information about her it will be below the cut after the prompt. That being said, enjoy!

Lea kicked dirt into the remains of the small cook fire she used for her breakfast. The sun wasn’t even up yet but she had a long day of riding ahead of her. She was on her way to this year's Ranger Gathering. This gathering marks her first full year as a Ranger and she found herself more excited than ever to arrive. She had never understood why Gilan was always so excited, but now she understood. She hadn’t seen another Ranger in a whole year and aside from the reports she got every week, she had no idea how her friends were doing.

Standing, she walked across her little camp to where her horse, Petal, was grazing happily. The horse's ears flicked at her approach but she did not look up from her contented munching. Lea placed her hands on her hips and looked at her horse.

“You practically grazed this part of the forest clean.” The little horse gave a short snort. “Oh don’t give me that. It’s time to go, finish your breakfast.” The horse raised its neck from where it had been grazing and patiently let Lea tighten the straps of her saddle. Strapping her bag to the saddle, Lea looked over her little camp. “How many of these camps do you think we’ve made and left behind?” Petal shook her mane in response. “Do you suppose other travelers ever use what we leave behind?” 

Lea swung up into the saddle and Petal looked back at her Ranger. “Alright, alright.” Lea urged the horse forward and Petal trotted off towards the road proper. “I know you’re excited to see our friends again.” She looked up through the trees as the quickly brightening sky. “If we hurry, we can make it before midday.” Lea tapped Petal’s flanks as they reached the road and the horse increased her speed to a canter.

The Ranger spared one last look over her shoulder at the bones of the camp they left behind and thought about the countless others she’s left. The memories they held. She smiled as she rode away. The next camp would be good, she decided. The next camp has friends waiting for me.

Leanna Harris

Average height by Ranger standards/ Brown hair usually tied up in a bun or some kind of tail/ Blue eyes

Leanna is around the same age as Will and Horace. Originally from Meric Fief, her first mentor died of a sudden illness in the first year of her apprenticeship. Having no mentor, she was bounced between Gilan and Halt. She and Will got along well and were a good team so usually she would stay in Redmont with Will and Halt. Though when Gilan went on missions, she went with him to get experience. She was on just such a mission with Gilan when Will was kidnapped by Scandians and went with Halt and Horace to rescue him. When she graduated and became a full Ranger she was stationed in her home Fief, Meric.

During her apprenticeship she became especially close with a fellow apprentice, Ansalon Prier. He was apprenticed to his father, a ranger of one of the southern fiefs. Will and Gilan have an active betting pool over who will confess first (Crowley and Halt do as well, but it's a secret). Lea insists that a relationship with another Ranger is unprofessional and Ansalon denies any feelings all together.

Lea has all the skills any typical Ranger has. She trained with Will to perfect a jongleur persona and is a wonderful dancer. She also has a knack for estimating times and has a better than average internal clock.

[tenobelisk]

Warning: these critical role opinions may be a little spicy if you think liking star wars and funko pops makes you nerdy. sorry, that was a jab. im just going to talk about critical role stuff for a bit to get it off my chest. spoilers for seasons one and two will follow.

so, i love the fact that sam will do characters that are not built to please anyone. in season 1, scanlan's storm-off was fantastic. he called them all out and i loved the timing of it. nobody gets to be comfortable for long, things are not perfect, im not the 'funny little guy' anymore. it's the most real shit to bring to the table each season in a different way, and i have no idea if anybody else feels this way about sam's characters but just bravo.

so, also, i really didn't like the policing of Nott's behaviour in season 2 vis-a-vis drinking and killing things, nor did i like veth at all. shrug. it got to the point where i felt nott was being curtailed and suppressed out of some real-life moral code bleeding into the game. veth seemed to be a normalisation and the death of nott. which seemed a mercy killing at that point. i dont like it when a character loses their fire even if its for Morally Good Reasons.

an aside: i loved how nott's husband accepted her goblinity. that couldve gone on for longer, i enjoyed matt's representation of the role and the dynamic between them. oh well. caterpillar, butterfly, etc.

the controlling of purse strings and behaviour checking going on also bothered me especially when it was followed by unchecked indulgence under 'approved' circumstances. do we all have to lean toward good and 'fix' whats wrong with us? what's with all the policing? maybe i've just been around too many controlling people and comfortable white middle class Game Enjoyers not to see it glaring brightly and wonder why anyone else isn't rattled by it. great, so you aren't bothered, doesn't mean its a good thing to soak in.

speaking of blurring cast and character boundaries, im still sad about orion in the beginning of season one, but i understand why it ended the way it did. i am okay with frantic unmanageable types in games like this, even if they make me uncomfortable sometimes. maybe it had to go that way for him to help himself in a less messy way than escape and misbehaviour.

of course i now know there were real-life incidents behind it that had rattled everybody. that definitely needed to end, but it was difficult to watch even though i've watched it twice now, minute-by-minute. but they're real people who react to problems imperfectly. that's 100% okay. just don't expect me not to file it away for later.

so after this many-years long roller coaster i'm reeeally trying to get into season three.. but the southern accents and smell the fart acting is making it real hard for my attention span. i've seen improv troupes kindof coast off of memes and crowd comfort and venue clout enough times to understand that its just nice to sit and be part of the show. the thing has a life of its own and enough work went into making it that way. the thing we are most familiar doing can sometimes become what we do to wind down, rather than what we do to power up. maybe that's what happened, or maybe it's just me. i am bummed it is not grabbing me as much as the past seasons but i will still drop in every now and then and give it a try.

[fungi-maestro]

Fuck you guys. Clark Kent has a Midwest Kansas accent. I want to see that guy just completely fucking up a sentence with a lot of R's and S's in it. Just totally dogshit. Pronounce the E's as I's, got it?