#gives me a direction to walk in while i brainstorm characters i will love and others will love

[giantkillerjack]

Good afternoon! What kind of characters or tropes do you wish you could see more of?? [Ex. More Trans characters; More witches; More himbos]

AND/OR: What kind of characters or tropes would you like to see LESS of? [Ex. Less Trans characters who have to live lives of misery; Less "evil" witches; Less characters played by Mark Wahlberg]

AKA what i need in my life are anti-capitalist trans witches who live lives of joy and community and also some himbos are there! HELL YEAH!!! ....... *ahem*. You don't have to be that specific, but hopefully you get the idea!

[justabrainrotvictim]

I literally was brainstorming the plot for a lps MOVIE, and there were vivid VISIONS of a fanmade trailer in my head OKAY OKAY!!!

I COULDNT SLEEP LAST NIGJT BWCAUSE OF THIS I HAVE TO GET THIS DOWN

(Rant under cut >-<) Feel free to give your own ideas i would love to read them!!!

Visuals:

Okay so imagine the mlp movie and how they did their models, how crisp and clean with the simple airbrushing at shading points right? Polished and well animated, looking semi-3D? Yeah imagine that but paired with LPS. I think it would look stunning. It would be understandable because both MLP and LPS are made by Hasbro.

I imagined a dynamic 3D-like zoom beginning from the clouds down onto Down-Town city, zooming down the skyscrapers, city park, across bright alleys and busy streets. At some point the pov points towards pets being walked by their owners down to a busy shop of lps.

The drone-like accseleration would cruz through the busy shop of pets jumping for treats and the ring of the cash register from paying customers. Then, finally, the daycare, the theater speakers blasting cute pop music and chattering criters enjoying their time there. With all 7 pets running around doing their little characteristic things and their modles being displayed,. The old timer people watch as they claw at their seats, excited to see their favorite characters.

Then a rattle comes from the Dumb waiter, and this is where we meet the main protagonist, Blythe, off to go to school.

(Stop this looks so good in my head i hope you get it) (i feel like the animation style would be a pixar/illumination style if not hasbro

Plot:

I feel like the plot would be very cliché like something related to Blythe's Mom, since she was brought up and obviously absent (i hope they didnt apply that she's not dead because then this wouldn't work) but ill go with this plot for now.

I think blythe's mom would reside somwehere in a jungle, in a treehouse even, as a ranger. She would use her gift to aid animals and help them through climate change and relationship problems and sortage. Etc. Haven't fleshed this part out yet.

This movie would be an Adventure Comedy Rated G. (I dont really know how much angst i want in this but whatevr)

Blythe and the pets will be going through an adventure to find out if Blythe's mom is still alive .. as Blythe finds a shread of hope, a clue.. of where she could be.

The pets will be going through airports, a rural city in the east continent, jungles, and especially shenanigans.

Now this just came to me, what if blythe brings the pets with her by the permission of the owners through a cruz or something, THEN being stranded (ignore this happening in the show okay) or something out of Blythe's control where now Blythe and the pets have to face being both lost, on a time crunch, and blythe's quest as a lesser priority. Because if blythe doesnt bring the pets back, she could be in serious trouble.

Characters:

Blythe Baxter: Main character energy. Helps point the plot in the right direction while also being the most hopeful about her success in finding her mom.

Roger: A silly goose that nearly messes up the plot with his clumsyness. Dont know if he will be apart of blythe being lost.

Twombly: probably very little dialog, unfortunately.

Zoe: Comentary and would get distracted easily with herself, would help with discovering scents and tracking. The most observant.

Pepper: lightens up the mood with her jokes. She even does this in glim and depressing sequences but slowly trails off when she realizes her failure. She would then wallow in the mood while feeling guilty.

Penny Ling: The most useful when finding food of substance that is sonsumable. It is also helpful with being extremely charming and cute in some instances. The heart of the group.

Minka: The most energetic and finds upcoming trouble first. What isn't helpful is how she freaks out crazily to the point where it makes all the pets panic even more. Otherwise, she is the eye of the group.

Sunil: AHHHHHH! He worries a lot.. sort of anxious about everything new around him.

Vinnie: AHHHHHH's with Sunil. Somewhere in the movie, he would find our something utterly impossible - for comedy - that literally no other living being would figure out. This would reference the many times he did something 'smart' to contrast with his character.

Russel: Group parent, bossy pants, and nerd. Too much dialog. Wayyy too much. At some point, one pet even brings up this detail of how he's such a yapper.

Biskits: Totally like ew. Their like so cool and stuff. Yeah.. The young adult demographic LOVESSS them like Velvet and Veneer from Trolls 3. In each separate scene, they wear a new slaying outfit.

Cashmere and Velvet have a cameo btw

Character interaction:

There will be small details in some scenes, kind of easter eggs at some sort like where one is hugging the other or making sure they're okay. Or a pet observing a butterfly ykwim.

(*cough cough* sunil and vinnie hugging when scared)

I honestly feel like there would be random lore drops, like idk how a pet was adopted/raised (SUNIL WAS OBVIOUSLY RAISED AS A BABY) idk i just really want that in a movie like, lore of a character that sounds awesome.

The pets would be super caring with each other. And during their worst, they will comfort verbally or physically whenever one feels down. They will protect one another like family. They will cry. They will suffer.

All characters will experience something out of their comfort zone. All characters will receive character development. Blythe will prioritize her mom over the pets. That's right, you heard me. She will care less about the pets at some point.

She would be so caught up in her own world that she wouldn't notice the pain she's causing her pets by dragging them with her through this journey. How hard it would be to cope with such stress.

Conflict:

That leads to conflict. Blythe's neglectful behavior would lead to a more serious scene where she breaks down at the idea that maybe, her mom is gone. How all evidence points to her death or some other factor. That maybe if she was just a few days earlier, she could have seen her. She could have met her.

Trailers and Theater posters:

The music would be like the intro music to mlp movie , an electric guitar cover of the intro, like JUST IMAGINE HOW BADASS THAT WOULD BEEEEEEE!!!!!

I could not be clearer ENOUGH! Sunil would be in a scene of a trailer saying something like,

*anoyyed groan* "Could this day get any better?!"

*as sacrastic as possible* and then it pours rain and vinnies like,

"Maybe." In a very oblivious voice.

IDK GUYS THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING LIKE THAT IN THE TRAILER OKAY YOU GET ME???? SOME DUMB DAD HUMOR LIKE IRONICALLY FUNNY OJAY OKAY????

[kanisema-blog]

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me

Chapter 4

The restaurant buzzed with the hum of conversation and clinking silverware as I sat across from the author of our animation project. We were here to discuss the potential series, a new chapter in our creative journey. The author, Lisa, was a vibrant woman in her early forties with an infectious enthusiasm for storytelling.

“So, Kelly, I’ve been thinking about expanding on some of the characters we introduced in the movie,” Lisa began, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I want to delve deeper into their backstories and add a few new arcs. What do you think?”

“That sounds fantastic, Lisa,” I replied, leaning forward. “We can definitely bring more depth to the characters. I’ve been playing around with some ideas for new scenes and character interactions. For instance, the main protagonist’s journey could be expanded to show more of their internal struggles and growth.”

“Exactly! And I also want to introduce a new antagonist,” Lisa continued, her hands gesturing animatedly. “Someone who challenges the protagonist in unexpected ways. I think it will add more tension and keep the audience engaged.”

As we continued to brainstorm, our food arrived. We took a moment to enjoy the meal, but our conversation never waned. Lisa’s passion was contagious, and I found myself getting more excited about the project with each passing minute.

“So, how do you envision the series being structured?” I asked between bites of my salad.

“I see it as a mix of episodic and serialized storytelling,” Lisa explained. “Each episode would have a self-contained story, but there would be overarching plots that span the entire series. It gives us the flexibility to explore different themes and character developments.”

“I love that approach,” I said, nodding. “It allows for creativity while keeping the audience invested in the long-term story.”

We continued to discuss various elements of the series, from visual style to potential voice actors. The meeting was productive and inspiring, and by the time we finished, we had a solid outline for the first season.

“Well, this has been great, Kelly,” Lisa said as she glanced at her watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I have another meeting to get to.”

“Of course, Sarah. Thanks for meeting with me,” I replied, standing up and shaking her hand. “I’ll start working on the initial drafts and get them to you as soon as possible.”

“Sounds perfect. Talk soon!” Lisa waved as she walked away, leaving me alone at the table.

I sat back down, savoring the last few sips of my drink, reflecting on the exciting new project ahead. It felt good to have a clear direction and a creative partner as passionate as Lisa.

“Excuse me, are you Aunt Kelly?”

I looked up to see a little girl standing beside my table, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. I blinked, trying to place her face, and then it clicked – this was John’s niece, Lily. She looked up at me with a shy smile, her tiny hands clutching a stuffed animal.

“Lily! Hi there,” I said, smiling warmly. “How have you been?”

Before Lily could answer, a woman approached us, and I recognized her as John’s cousin, Sarah. She smiled at me, and there was a mix of surprise and warmth in her eyes.

“Kelly, it’s so good to see you,” Sarah said, giving me a quick hug. “Lily has been asking about you. She misses her Aunt Kelly.”

“It’s great to see you too, Sarah,” I replied, returning the hug. “I’ve missed you all as well. How have you been?”

“We’ve been good. Busy, but good,” Sarah answered, then turned to her daughter. “Lily, why don’t you tell Aunt Kelly about your new school?”

Lily’s face lit up, and she launched into an animated description of her new school, her friends, and the activities she loved. I listened, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the times I had spent with John’s family. Despite everything that had happened between John and me, I had always felt a deep bond with his relatives.

“That sounds wonderful, Lily,” I said once she finished. “I’m so happy to hear you’re enjoying school.”

Sarah smiled at me, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “We’ve missed having you around, Kelly. You were always a part of our family.”

I felt a lump in my throat but managed to keep my voice steady. “I’ve missed you all too. Life just got… complicated.”

Sarah nodded, understanding. “We should catch up properly sometime. Maybe over dinner?”

“I’d like that,” I replied, genuinely meaning it.

We chatted for a bit longer, catching up on family news and reminiscing about old times. Eventually, Sarah glanced at her watch.

“We should get going, but it was so good to see you, Kelly,” she said, giving me another hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t. Take care, Sarah. Bye, Lily,” I said, waving as they walked away.

I sat back down, feeling a mix of emotions. Seeing Sarah and Lily had been unexpected but oddly comforting. It was a reminder that, despite the changes and challenges, some connections remained strong.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, I felt a renewed sense of determination. The past was behind me, but the future was full of possibilities. And with a new project on the horizon, I had plenty to look forward to.

[dinosaurtsukki]

⸺𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 27: i should be over all the butterflies (finale)

i should be over all the butterflies | a chuuya x gn!reader smau

a/n: wow, so here's another smau coming to a close. this ended up being much longer than i thought it would be but it was entertaining to write until the very end. i hope you guys like the final chapter and please let me know what you think of it !!

also, i'm sure some of you have been curious about the title. well, it's actually based on the song 'still into you' by paramore. when i first listened to that song i kinda imagined vocalist!chuuya (it's because of the orange hair). if you like, give it a listen while reading this last chapter

ever since he first started performing with the mafia dogs, chuuya had never felt stage fright or even remotely anxious before singing onstage. he even surprised himself when he came to the realization that performing was just second-nature to him.

but god was he nervous now.

usually, he was the one who hyped up the crowd before playing but right now, chuuya busied himself with fiddling with the height of the mic stand as tachihara and dazai took on the role.

"hey everyone!" dazai yelled into the microphone. the crowd in front of the stage cheered in unison.

"you may know us as the mafia dogs," tachihara continued. "but right now, you can think of us as the newest members of the journalism club."

"yeah, we actually just sent our application forms earlier," dazai laughed, glancing sideways at chuuya with a look that expressed 'dude, your turn to say something.'

"so, uh," chuuya cleared his throat. "we're actually going to perform a new song."

the crowd cheered once again and that put a smile on his face. he scanned the people standing in the front row until his eyes landed on you. chuuya bit back a laugh at the matching mustard shirt and pants you were wearing that made it impossible for him to spot. right beside you was ranpo, in crutches but mostly leaning on oda for support.

chuuya took in a deep breath and calmed himself down. having akutagawa right next to him, who looked the happiest he's ever been as he fiddled with the buttons on his keytar, definitely helped.

"this song is actually dedicated to someone. well, two people," chuuya clarified after exchanging a look with dazai. "and, i hope our thoughts come across in this song."

chuuya nodded at dazai and akutagawa, feeling his breath swell in his chest as he began to sing.

"can't count the years in one hand that we've been together. i need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better"

the roar of the audience gave chuuya a surge of confidence and he grinned widely as he continued to sing. it was always a bit nerve-wracking performing a new song and hoping their fans would like it. after all, he and dazai just poured out their raw emotions into the lyrics and hoped for the best.

for a split-second, chuuya's eyes darted over to make you out in the front row of the crowd again. was that a grin on your face or was he just imagining things? chuuya tried not to let the anxiety grip him.

"because after all this time, i'm still into you"

but at the end of the day, chuuya knew he would "perish and die", in the words of dazai, if he never let you know how he felt.

"i should be over all the butterflies but i'm into you. and baby even on our worst nights, i'm into you."

chuuya could tell that everyone was getting into the song by the time the chorus hit. the audience was jumping up and down in unison to the beat. dazai was leaning into the microphone singing the back-up vocals. tachihara had a wide, gleeful grin on his face he played the drums. even akutagawa was bobbing his head up and down to the music.

seeing all of them getting into the song gave chuuya just a bit of courage to lock eyes with you in the crowd as he sang the next line that condense all of his feelings.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you."

...

as soon as the mafia dogs started playing the song, one of the first thoughts in your head was "damn, chuuya's pants look really tight" and then "damn, chuuya looks really good onstage."

you've known him practically your whole life and even though back then he demonstrated no inclination at all for being a band vocalist, it looked like chuuya was born to be one. on the one hand, you felt bad that you two weren't close for the past few years. you would have enjoyed watching their earlier band practices and showing up for his first gig or watching him brainstorm new songs.

but getting to know chuuya again, especially this side of him, wasn't so bad. he was your best friend after all. and thanks to that little introduction he made before singing the song, chuuya's intentions were now clear as day to you.

"let them wonder how we got this far 'cause i don't even need to wonder at all"

you weren't sure if he could make you out in front of the crowd all, even if your mustard ensemble, much less see the expression on your face. there were probably hundreds of students in the campus square all watching and cheering to the mafia dogs' new song. but maybe, just maybe--

and there.

chuuya unmistakably met your gaze in the crowd and you smiled broadly at him in return as he ended the first chorus.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you"

'jesus christ, chuuya,' you thought as you smiled to yourself. 'you could have just sent me a text.'

...

"just so we're clear... you do know the song is dedicated to you, right?" ranpo said.

"i'm not that fucking dumb," you scoffed, flicking him on the forehead. right after the talent show, the three of you gathered near a bench just outside your dorm building. the crowds were slowly starting to thin out as well.

"is it... safe to assume that," oda spoke slowly beside him. you laughed slightly at the apparent hesitancy in his voice. "the other person is... me?"

"oda, i'm proud of you," ranpo grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. as if on cue, a text notification from oda's phone rang.

"you should take that like, right now," you insisted.

"really?" oda looked between you and ranpo. "do you need help with--?"

"i'll make it up the stairs on my own," ranpo huffed. "i'm not that helpless you know."

"right," you rolled your eyes. "says the guy who--"

"uh, y/n?"

you turned around to see chuuya approaching the three of you with his hands in his pockets and his guitar in its case on his shoulder. ranpo pushed you slightly forward before hurrying back to the dorm building in his crutches. oda waved goodbye before heading off in the other direction, leaving you and chuuya.

"so."

"so."

"nice... outfit," chuuya nodded at your shirt and pants.

"well, i've always had a thing for monochrome," you laughed, placing your hands on your hips. "look at your outfit though. i mean, can you even breathe in those pants?"

"not going to lie, i almost passed out on stage," chuuya joked and the two of you laughed in unison. "so... what did you think about the song?"

"hmm," you cocked your head to the side. "i think that whoever that song is dedicated to must be very lucky."

"really? then does that mean--"

"ranpo would absolutely love to be your boyfriend. or tachihara's. or is it akutagawa?" you interrupted him. chuuya stared at you with his mouth open before you burst into laughter.

"you should have seen the look on your face!" you pointed teasingly. "like your mouth was all open and everything. i gotta say chuuya i really--"

before you could even finish your sentence, chuuya had wrapped a finger around one of the belt loops of your mustard pants, pulling you close and kissing you right on the lips. instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt both of chuuya's hands on your waist.

"you should see the look on your face," he whispered in a low voice as soon as you two parted. the smirk on his lips was enough to make you want to cover your face with your hands.

"i hate you chuuya," you whispered back much to his amusement.

"oh yeah, it sure seemed like you do." he flicked you on the forehead for good measure before walking off, leaving you to catch up to him.

"hey, hey. how did that song go again?" you asked, skipping next to chuuya. "i should be over all the butterflies... it's pretty catchy! you're gonna sing it for me again, right?"

"i literally just sang it for you."

"aw but i want one that's just for me. please chuuya?"

"...fine. maybe tomorrow."

a/n: and that is the end of the series! what happens to the characters next is all up to you guys (i do love an open ending for my fics). let me know what you all think and thank you for reading my series!

⸺𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

@kiyoobi ​​​​ @atsumusdomain ​​​​ @laure-chan ​​​​ @goodfoodxoxoxo ​​​​ @guardianangelswings ​​​​ @kei-ya ​​​​ @loisuke ​​​​ @whootwhoot ​​​​ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs ​​​​ @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks ​ ​​​ @nightmare-light ​​​​ ​ @miyakiyo0mi ​​​​ @whorefordazai ​​​​ @rirk-ke ​​​​ @cross-crye ​​​ @alohablue @duhsies ​​​ @alittlesimp @tetsustation @https-inarizaki @himboos @magpiemissy @hanazou @monochromaticelliot

reblogs and comments are much appreciated

[txemrn]

💝💝 HAPPY VALENTINE'S WEEKEND!! 💝💝

While out for a walk, Tatum spots this in a bakery window. She chuckles then goes inside to buy it for Ethan. How does he respond when he gives it to her later that night?

(Feel free to switch it up and have Ethan purchase/give it to Tatum if you like!)

Elsa! Thanks for including me in this! Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy my take on it! 🥰

~♡~

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Word Count: ~2400

Warning: fairly fluffy; a curse

Rating: teen

Summary: After attending a wedding, Ethan begins to question his own self-expression of the L-word to Tatum-- just in time for Valentine's Day.

A/N: Some ideas and characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry! Huge hugs and kisses to my sister-in-crime @kat-tia801 for brainstorming with me (I had to satisfy the V-day itch!) and pre-reading this for me! Also, big thanks to my sweet fraaaaaan @ao719 for reading some blurbs for me!

~♡~

With the first winter storm threatening to blanket the city of Boston under two feet of snow, Tatum Erikson couldn’t think of a better reason to return back to her Los Angeles home for a few days. She more than welcomes the reprieve from her eighty-hour work week responsibilities, but truthfully, she couldn’t have planned this vacation better herself. She’s been looking forward to this trip since before her big move to the East Coast last year. Witnessing her friend get married was a good enough reason alone; but that was before the news of the blizzard. And before her unexpected second chance at love.

As the officiant begins the whimsical beach ceremony, Tatum loses herself in her thoughts. And she smiles. Feeling the warm coastal air on her face, the velveteen soft sand between her toes, and being surrounded by so many familiar, friendly faces, she realizes that this is no longer her home. The City of Angels taught her so much about life, about healing, about herself; and yet, in the last six months, her journey has taken off in a different direction she never thought imaginable. She had prepared herself for new adventures, new responsibilities, living life as a stranger in a new city with a new practice. However, it didn’t take long for her to discover that while she was the new kid on the block, her heart was simply coming back home. To him.

“You okay?”

A subtle rosy hue paints up Tatum’s neck. The grit in Ethan’s whisper ignites a wave of goosebumps across her skin, her nerves standing on end from his effortless magnetism. Feeling his warm touch against her knee pulls her completely back into reality.

Tatum brightly offers a crooked grin. Although he has unleashed the butterflies in her stomach, she plays it cool, nodding nonchalantly. Ethan endearingly drapes his arm around her exposed shoulders, pulling her closer to himself. Smoothing out her skirt, Tatum focuses her attention on her favorite part of the wedding: the exchanging of vows.

"My sweetheart, my Pooh Bear," the bride dabs away her joyous tears, "since the moment we met, I knew you were the one for me--"

Ethan looks down at Tatum, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. "Since the moment we met, I knew you were going to be a royal pain in my ass," he huskily chuckles.

Hiding her amusement, Tatum rolls her eyes before playfully swatting at her date's shoulder. She places a finger to her lips to hush him before quickly turning her smitten attention back to the happy couple.

Ethan leans in again. "Is there a dinner after this?"

Tatum scoffs into a quiet snicker while shaking her head. "Ethan," she scolds quietly, "you're missing these romantically dreamy vows."

"Ohh, come now, they're all the same.”

“No, no they’re not.” She holds her hand delicately to her chest, her eyelids fluttering. “These are sweet, personalized vows that they have written specifically to each other.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, looking first to Tatum before focusing on the bride and groom. “Okay, then,” he guffaws to himself, “check this out. She’s about to promise the groom that she’ll be supportive and encouraging–”

“--I promise that I will support you, encouraging you in all things–”

Tatum clicks her tongue, trying to hide her grin. Ethan continues, “Now she is going to say something kitschy, but personal to create a pleasant crowd reaction, something like she’ll work on her cleaning skills–”

“--I promise I will try not to eat cookies in bed–” the wedding attendees tumble into knowing, simultaneous giggles. “--but if one accidentally comes to bed with me, I promise I will learn how to use the handheld vacuum cleaner.” More cordial laughter comes from the audience before the bride continues.

“And now–” Ethan holds out his hand as if to direct her next lines.

“Stop it!” gruffly whispers Tatum as she stifles her snickers. “Okay, fine. You win,” she admits, “all vows are pretty much the same. But, there’s still something romantic about them.” She pulls his hand around her shoulder more intimately, lacing her fingers with his. “Don’t you think?”

“This? This is romantic?”

“Well,” Tatum becomes coy in his arms, biting her bottom lip. “Yes.”

Ethan sardonically chuckles, covering his mouth, staring at his girlfriend. “Really? All of this ‘you are the reason I wake up everyday’?” Tatum’s face slowly drops into a frown. “No, your circadian rhythm is what wakes you up everyday–”

“Okay, Dr. Ramsey,” Tatum scowls, refusing to look up at him

“--or maybe it’s clinical depression that’s been keeping you in bed. Love doesn’t fix that,” he chuckles, “go see a doctor.”

Tatum exhales heavily, removing Ethan’s arm from around her neck.

“I’m just saying, Tate,” Ethan continues to whisper, “this guy just said, ‘My heart skipped a beat the moment I laid eyes on you’. You know and I know: the man clearly needs a doctor and an EKG STAT. It’s an arrhythmia.” He shakes his head.

Tatum mouths the word ‘wow’. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Are you done?” She stares blankly at the happy couple, watching them become overwhelmed with tears of happiness. “Ya'know? Sometimes people have a difficult time describing their love, Ethan Jonah.” She spouts. “And so the best they can do is relate it to something physical, something tangible. ‘You take my breath away,’ or, ‘meeting you was like coming up for fresh air’. Of course, it’ll never describe love perfectly. No one can,” she looks back up at her boyfriend, his crystal blues already attentively studying her. “It’s still–” she stumbles over her words, becoming lost in him, “--it’s, um, just really nice, is all.”

Embracing her body closer to himself, Ethan delicately presses his lips to Tatum’s forehead. “Is that what you want?” His tone becomes remorsefully serious.

Smiling brightly, she looks up at him to claim a simple kiss from his mouth. “I want you.” She shares another peck with him, slipping her arm around his lower back. “You are a good man–such a good man to me, Ethan Ramsey. I love the way you love me.”

Deep in thought, Ethan naturally embraces her as she relaxes her head on his shoulder. He traces comforting circles up and down her arm, each pass exacting a quiet moan from her lips. He buries his nose into her carefully tousled, blonde waves, and that’s when he realizes it: she’s right. This moment, this feeling: how could he possibly simplify it into words? I love you will never be enough.

~♡~

2 Weeks Later...

It is the Friday before Valentine’s Day, and as per usual, every awning, window, and stoop is adorned with the festive hearts with brilliant pinks and reds. Advertisements for sales on jewelry, flowers and chocolate dipped-anything are mounted on store fronts, luring men and women alike to make a purchase in efforts to express their love.

After his monthly breakfast meeting with the board, Ethan decided to take the short, scenic walk back to Edenbrook. Seeing the various holiday signs and flags, a contorted smile crawls across his face, thinking about his Tatum. And he chuckles.

Only Tatum Erikson could make Ethan Ramsey love Valentine’s Day.

Although she loves the sentiments of the day, she has absolutely no desire to be treated disgustingly cheesy and over-the-top. However, she does enjoy expressing her affection for the people in her life by baking treats and making special cards and crafts. The staff in her clinic and at the hospital are always spoiled with clever work-related tools, cookies and candy.

As a couple, Ethan and Tatum learned quickly in med school that grandeur accolades and expensive gestures are simply not for them. In fact, they usually try to find grotesquely cheesy cards to give to one another in hopes of an evening filled with laughter. They make dinner together before curling up on the couch with a good scary movie.

Fixing his scarf around his neck, a couple of young children scampering carelessly on the sidewalk jump in his way, making him dodge inside the entrance of a bakery. But before he could scold a single soul, the warm greeting of deliciously aromatic baking goods tingle his senses. He turns his attention to the display case of fresh cakes, breads and cookies, baked and decorated specifically for the special weekend.

“May I help you?”

A cheerful, young red-head from behind the counter waves to grab Ethan’s attention. He grins politely, thinking that maybe a sweet or two would be a lovely change for this year Valentine’s day.

“Um–” he begins, but instantly zeroes in on one chocolatey cake, perfect for two in the shape of a heart. But, it wasn’t the cake itself that drew him in; it was the message written on top. He couldn’t help, but think of Tatum when he read it. “Actually,” he starts again, “may I have this one?”

The lady at the counter looks at the cake before her eyes slowly turn back to Ethan, completely perplexed. “You, um, you want the chocolate ‘U Fine AF’ cake, sir?”

“That’s the one,” he nods, giving a toothy grin.

“Oh, well, um–” the associate tries to hide her feelings, but it was clear she thought this is an odd purchase for someone like Ethan. “Let me box it up for you, and I’ll meet you at the register,” she smiles.

“One more thing,” Ethan interrupts. “Are you able to change any of the wording?”

~♡~

Valentine's Day...

“This pad thai turned out perfect,” praises Ethan as he settles himself on his taupe-colored sectional. Jenner files onto the cushions next to him, hoping for a morsel of food to fall. Tatum walks out of the bedroom, wearing one of Ethan’s old wife beater undershirts with a lacy pair of petal-pink boyshorts. “Looks like dessert turned out perfect, too,” he jokes, licking his lips, adoringly staring at his girlfriend’s body.

Tatum smiles knowingly, putting her hands on her hips. “You dirty old man,” she purrs, slowly turning around to show off her exposed rear.

“I’m the dirty one?” Ethan chuckles standing up to chase her down in the kitchen.

“You’re not even going to fight me on the ‘old man’ part?” Tatum giggles, crossing her arms across her chest as she leans against the counter.

“Touché.” Ethan sets down his plate, his hands hungry to take her into his arms. Caressing his stubbled cheek, their lips meet once, then twice.

“Mmmm,” she licks her lips, her eyes finally fluttering open. “You’re right. It did turn out perfect.” She wipes her thumb across her mouth, before sucking on the bold flavors left behind by Ethan’s kiss–that is, until she stops at the soft, gravel of his voice.

“It did turn out perfect.”

She looks back into Ethan’s eyes, enchanted by a passionate eagerness. The corner of his mouth begins to curl, his fingers combing through her golden strands.

In that moment, Tatum realizes he’s no longer talking about dinner, or their cooking skills or even their plans for the rest of the evening.

He is talking about them.

He cradles her neck, kissing her forehead once more. “Hey, I want to show you something.” He turns around and reaches into the refrigerator, pulling out a pink box.

“Ethan,” Tatum’s eyes light up as she playfully bites the tip of her tongue. “What–what is this?”

He playfully shrugs. “Don’t know. You have to open it,” he teases.

After setting the box down on the counter for both of them to watch, Tatum unfastens the tape. She carefully slides her fingers inside of the lid, lifting upwards to open the box, exposing a luscious chocolate cake. Tatum’s initial look of surprise falls to confusion.

“‘U + ME = AF’?” She smiles cordially, staring back up at Ethan. “It–It’s so sweet, babe, but–”

He titters, holding up a hand. “Just listen. You and I both know I’m not good with this affection stuff. And yet,” he pauses as a goofy grin paints onto his face. “You, Tatum, you just know. You know me, and–and I know you. It’s like–” he nervously shakes his head, “--this is just how it’s supposed to be, how it was always supposed to be.” He holds out his hands, interlocking them delicately with Tatum’s fingers. “Do you remember your friend’s wedding last month?”

Tatum’s eyes cautiously survey the room before landing back on her boyfriend’s handsome features. “Yes?”

“Where I was making fun of the vows,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “and you? You said that people have a hard time describing their love?” He stops, biting his lip as his own eyes begin to water. “I know, Tatum, I know–I have a hard time describing my love for you–that is until, I saw this cake–”

Tatum begins to laugh loudly. “This cake?”

“This cake,” Ethan assures. “When I am with you, Tate,” he points to the ‘U + Me’, “it’s like I’m in atrial fibrillation.” He points to the ‘AF’.

“A-Fib?” Tatum stifles her laughter, curiously tilting her head. “Go on.”

“I am structured. I am steady. I am organized. I am even-keel.” He sighs deeply, staring intently into her eyes, “And then you happened. Again. I got a fucking second chance at love–at true love, our love,” he chuckles to himself. “And I don’t know what the fuck happened, but this time around, it’s like my electrical impulses are out of sync, causing me to flutter and quiver out of rhythm. Some days I am unable to function properly because I love you so much. It’s like I’m about to throw a clot and stroke out. You leave me breathless. You make me dizzy. My love for you–it’s overwhelming.”

Cascades of tears course down Tatum’s rosy cheeks. She instantly throws her hands around his neck, jumping into his arms. Their mouths instantly melt together, their tongues dancing across each other’s lips. Finally breaking for air, Tatum rests her head on Ethan’s chest. Her eyes flutter open, looking at the cake, again.

“Wow, Ethan Ramsey. The romantic.”

He snickers. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“But,” Tatum’s voice grows worrisome, pulling away from him. “I am concerned.”

“About what?”

“It sounds like someone needs an EKG.”

~♡~

TAGS:

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801@khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPEN HEART

@burnsoslow @ohchoices @thegreentwin

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9′s reaction: you comfort them when they are exhausted and upset

Characters: Sweet guys who could only appear in your dreams 

Word count: lmao

Genres: Fluff, smut, suggestive smut 

A/N: For more works like this one, click here

Hearing the front door open, you called out, ‘’Binnie?’‘, voice distinctly echoing in the walls of the hallway. They were ghostly practitioners because your husband did not answer back. Like you, he had just come back from work, his briefcase already tossed to the side and entering the storeroom turned jacket area, he hung his suit jacket. Unlike his morning attire, his shirt was crumpled from the sleeves to the back and the belt was quickly rounded, thrown into the basket of belts. 

You watched him sigh in overall discontent, chuckling at his need to just take a day off and relax. You excitedly stretched your limbs, setting down the numerous take-out fliers you had pulled out. Your eyebrows went up and your mouth puckered in question. Looking from side to side, you wondered, what is the rush?

He had not answered your call but upon seeing you, he lit up, quickly moving towards you as a rabbit would when it is cuddled and gave you a tiny, baby peck on the cheek. You smiled in delight, walking along with him as he asked, ‘’How was your day?’’. You hummed, stating that it was hectic yet good and he agreed with the former point. 

‘‘Mine was hectic too’‘ he pouted and you caught his attention with a gentle smile, taking him in your arms and giving him a hug. He settled into your arms, the tiredness looking familiar to you. You were sure that his head was hurting. His expression was similar to when he was in a fucked-out state- hazily staring at you through those beautiful half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted as he gazed at you, but only this time he was dreaming. 

‘‘You know’‘ he whispered, leaning into your embrace. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest as he rested in the crook of your neck. He did not explain any further, choosing to rest in the silence of your comfort. ‘’We should have some wine.’’ he whispered, hugging you closely. ‘’Now?’’ you asked, purely curious. He agreed and you replied, ‘’How about after we do this?’’, motioning to the bath.

You found it evident that he was fatigued, saying, ‘‘Come with me, I’ll wash your hair’‘. He happily nodded, taking off the rest of his clothes and feeling the stickiness of the day escape him. He felt less stuffier now than when he first entered the house, smelling like the office he had worked in all day. His eyes reflected greediness as he stepped into the water, making you chuckle, pleased that he was looking more handsome than ever and in good shape. 

First on your list of things to do was to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him. Passionately, your lips settled onto his, lovingly holding him in place. He was enjoying it, gently gripping at your shirt. Although he had this innocent appearance to him, the strength and endurance he had in his ambition paralleled yours, one of the reasons why you had fallen in love with him. There was little lingering, yet feeling like you could be closer. 

Sometimes, you spent your lunch with him, overlooking the pretty white blossoms cornering your building. It crowded your view of the often busy street and sometimes went bald but in your office, you forsook the working relationship you had with him. Sharing your food, plotting the evasion of your higher-ups orders- How could you explain it? It was intimate, fiery and included a tingle of the senses. (Perhaps, all of the senses?)

You wanted to love him over and over again, like watching one episode after the other, late into the night. The two of you were intimately brought together, your feelings escalating when you made love on the bed, on the kitchen counter on a lazy morning or on the sofa while watching some boring movie, sometimes switching fast sex to casual. 

He leaned back, hands quickly motioning to you, ‘’Get in here please’’. You laughed aloud, excitement filling your system like blowing air into balloons at birthday parties. He breathed out a sigh of relief as your fingers tangled in his shampoo-filled hair, white, scrubby bits everywhere, some even floating in the air. 

He was relaxed, soothed by your touches before he started giggling and playing with the water, running his hands through it and smiling at the ripples that formed. ‘’Should I join you?’’ you teasingly pondering as he pouted at you, maybe thinking, get in here? Please?. Not caring whether you were ruining your clothes, you took them off with your soap covered hands and threw them in the basket. He admired your figure and the way it was enveloped by the warm water. 

He welcomed you with extended arms and you straddled him, comfortably settling on his lap. You could not choose what to liken his smile too. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pretending to be distracted because you were unable to to contain the heat that rose to your cheeks that in turn, rose with your smile. You wanted to give him some advice which got pushed back when he began to wander your body, delicately bathing your skin with warm water. 

You paused, purely curious as he rested a hand on your ass while you were brought close to him, his lips encasing yours in a touch that evoked a heated response from you. You rose with the kiss, unconsciously grinding your hips against his tip that brushed your inner thigh. You were taken back with his unexpected actions, very much enjoying the effects.

He parted your ass cheeks, arousal flooding to your sex as it was embedded within the two of you. Every time felt congruously new, like a passionate relish of red, plump apples or biting into a ripe mango, feeling the juice trickle into your mouth, encasing your tongue in something watery yet sugary. 

He left you little to the imagination: water spilt out of the tub, rippling with fast movements. You threw your head back, heavily breathing, both of you vicarious in the feeling of sounds. You let out soft cries of pleasure while he thrusted his hips up, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his member. He felt the smooth curve of your ass, grabbing it as he buried himself inside you, kissing every part of your body that was accessible to him as you held onto him, bouncing unrhythmically. 

He roamed your body, over and over again. You were lost right now, gasping, moaning, crying out in intimacy as you held onto the tub. You lifted your hip, and then in a quick, repeated motion, you met his own. You could feel him trail your legs as you got off him and faced the wall, hands slipping for grasp as he entered you from behind. He was pleased to end his day with you, to feel you around him, habiting his nearest surroundings. And for you words of advice, he was thankful too. 

Today had been rough. Inseong was swamped in how people were treating him, the intentions behind their behaviour ambiguous. So he found it vague to explain it to you or rather, find a label for it. He said that it was complicated and you understood, telling him that many things were hard to justify too, because it didn’t fit the category of direct and explainable. It was the small things that either added up or didn’t. 

Then came the pressure that followed such things. The embedded attitudes of people felt relentless. It was similar to an unjustified attack, tiring Seong out from daily routines and schedules. He had informed you of what was going on. When you asked him what his plans were, he simply shrugged, sighed and gave you a smile (keeping hopes up that it would go away). Some things did not go away unless you told them too. 

You couldn’t tell him to ‘let it pass’ or ‘ignore them’ because although it did not seem like it, those words were inconsiderate. Instead you told him to stand up for himself, in small ways, like their behaviour. You refused to see him hurt like this- partly defeated and showing easy acceptance of something that could be changed. You did your best to encourage him, lightly scolding him for keeping such a mindset in the first place. 

As he sat on the sofa, suit still on and laying exhausted in your arms, nestling into the comfort he found in you, you combed through his hair, wanting to ask him some questions. He mumbled his answers sleepily, not bothering to hide the truth from you, saying it plain and simple. As it should have been told from the start, you heard it, brainstorming of how to combat this. But both of you were equally worn out and so you accidently fell asleep in the living room, waking up hours later in each other’s arms. 

The next time, you had come home some hours after him, daylight fading into the distance but the blues had already set in, much earlier than you had thought. You remember entering the house and placing your shoes in the stand. You had placed your stuff in the bedroom, quickly changing into home clothes. All the while, the air was silent albeit the presence of Seong who had already texted you that he had reached home. 

You were happy to see him, having kissed him in a hurry to feel him on you unlike the first half of the day when you had so dearly missed him. After a good conversation, he downplayed the events in a deflating manner. The story was malicious and you did not appreciate their insincerity. They had treated him more roughly then before and it occurred to you that Inseong’s tunnel of vision had narrowed. In hope he thought that there wasn’t much for the future but you were infuriated upon hearing his story. 

You were still on for fighting back, not hitting the knees or lightly shoving. There was no sugar-coating, making the relay barren but you had wanted him to understand what you had meant. Instilling some fight into him, he had understood, swallowing your advice to find others that disagreed with this type of treatment. To find like-minded people and rid himself of his problem, once and for all. 

It wasn’t easy for him but in the coming weeks, you noticed a change- that he was happier than before. He was giddy and you reflected on previous memories, thinking that he had always managed to be happy, those people had just dampened it. Today, you sat with an unopened wine bottle, texting your friends till Inseong came home. And when he did, your phone was flung somewhere (so precious, hopefully on the sofa itself) and he took you into his arms, giving you a hug. 

You excitedly returned it back and the familiar thudding returned when you saw him smile, gummy version and lit eyes showing. Although he was tired, he was brimming with energy, agreeing to your proposition of wine and cookies. He rolled onto the sofa, throwing the covers over your thighs and leaning on your shoulders. His legs ached from the walk to get home as quick as possible but it felt worth it.

You gave him a peck, grinning as he cutely leaned in for more. The more you gave into him, the more you smiled from ear to ear. The screen of the television greeted your eyes in the bright light of the living room, heart beat steady as you embraced Seong. Bringing his hair back, you chuckled at his facial expressions that immediately relaxed, taking a sip of his wine in the process. ‘’That felt good’’ he commented, feeling the rumble of your chest as you laughed. 

‘‘Including your whole day? That sounds good’‘ you replied, cross-legged as you grabbed a cookie, Seong’s eyes tracing the crumbly deliciousness. Breaking a piece, you plopped it into Seong’s parted lips, smiling at his quick response to the melted chocolate. ‘‘It was and things are looking up’‘ he happily motioned, responded and you listened as he spoke more, entailing you to the details. You firstly felt happy, secondly thrilled that you had won, unanimously. 

You could hear someone distinctly coughing in another room, its nature echoing and reverberating and hence catching the attention of JaeYoon as well. He kept silent, not a peep from his mouth when the familiar pain affected his temples, lighting up like red lights around his eyes and cheeks, inciting him to desire a cough. 

You watched from your spot at the door, his back hunched and eyes monotonously staring at the screen. You flinched as you thought of the pain of staring into something that bright in a room so dark. As you leant against the door frame, you saw him harshly rub the pain away from his heavy eyes that would not open as far as they usually would. 

He looked like he was having trouble looking up, heavily exhaling as he tried to resist the pain. They grew stronger like the thudding sounds of boots against a wooden floor that by the second neared closer to you. 

He gets up from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as it is pushed back with sheer force of his anger, annoyance, irritation. It takes him less time than swinging a baseball bat to launch a last-minute defence than to grab the chair he sits on and fling it at the wall. He believes that no one around as he sighs, then shamefully picks it up and sits on it again, reflecting. 

You wondered what he was imagining, looking lost in thought. His cheeks turned red like the sunset, a gradient of embarrassment. What he was feeling was understood by his team members and although you were blameless, a part of your decision-making process pricked at your mind. It started to gnaw until you shooed it away, tricking you into thinking that his pain was influenced by you.

You were mindful of your perception of his situation, understanding that if you did not have the full details, you did not have the right to serve him harsh words either. There could have been more to what he had told you because he was an excellent soldier and knew how to weave tales to best fit his situation, even to his team leader. 

He knew now that you were at the door, shadow having shifted due to the movement of light. When he faced you, he settled his hair down, even though it already was- a habit he had when he was nervous. He yearned for your comfort like a hug or a few words of advice. It was not selfish of him for it was human desire and unable to breach the relationship he had with you, he settled for your praise whilst watching you from afar. 

Under your gaze, he felt nervous but his thoughts overcame him because he felt hardened to the fact that he could not change the past and knew still, that it was useless to ponder over such things. As you scanned his form, the anger he felt was irreplaceable and you felt that you could not soothe him, yet. For the kind of person that he was, you knew that he would pull through. 

You made your move to give him time, giving him one last look as you turned back and walked away. Hours later, he must have been calm, rationally thinking of the situation when you saw him in the swimming pool on the roof. Leaning against the wall, he put his phone down upon seeing you enter. You said nothing, his eyes wide and suggesting something that could not be put into a sentence. You expected him not to question and he did not, waiting for you to speak first.

As you slipped into the water, a line of goosebumps trailed your leg yet you entered without flinching, letting a wave of water swallow your body. You were engulfed and while basking in the liquid, you moved towards him, coming together for camellias and carnations presently unknown.

Warm sunlight and the mindless singing of birds filled the air like filling water into a jug. You paddled towards him, watching him stand up straight, eyes never moving below your jaw. He waited and waited till you came to him, till your face was as close to him as two threads sewn one after the other. His system was frozen, back against the wall, water still, only small ripples forming as you moved towards him. 

‘‘We can’t let someone know about this’‘ you mumbled, regretfully looking at his confused eyes. His lips were parted in question, words barely coming out as he shook his head in agreement. Unconsciously moving closer to you, you smiled, exclaiming, ‘‘Should I show you the place where everyone goes to take a break without me knowing? And you too apparently’‘. 

‘‘Did I read that wrong? Or something? I thought-’‘ he asked, clearing his head and halting your movements when you began to walk away. You chuckled, replying, ‘‘Hold on-’‘. You disagreed as you continued, ‘’No, you didn’t. I just thought it would be better to be somewhere private than here.’‘. He came to the realisation pretty quickly, turning his opinion around at the open space for a lack of privacy or none thereof in the first place. 

As he followed you, it clicked to him and he didn’t stop himself from asking, ‘’There is a place where people go to relax?’’. You laughed, pointing to some place beneath the surface of land, carefully opening the door. You marvelled in amazement when it did open, exactly as you were told, your eyes meeting his affiliating gaze based on the way you smiled in wonder. Reflective, you looked around, laughing as you caught each other turning at the same time. 

‘‘I don’t know why we haven’t been introduced to this place as yet’‘ you stated, seeing a glint of something shiny in the background. 

‘‘I agree and shouldn’t you know about this? Given where it is’‘ he motioned, pleasantly unsurprised, figuring that you had your own place to relax. As he bent down to crawl you responded, ‘’If anyone, I might be the last to know’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you at how true it was. 

The entrance was wide, allowing you to swim without hitting the sides. Lights lit the sides and you were met with a staircase, droplets cascading down your wet clothes as you stepped out of the water. Neither of you bothered to comment on the spiral staircase or the enormous dry room, filled with private corners of games, food and drinks. 

You stared at with mouths agape until Jaeyoon broke the silence. After finding a place to change into fresh clothes, you met him at the massage chairs, twined in a corner that gave you a view of the doors. ‘’Here’’ you handed him a beer bottle, asking him, ‘’Aren’t you going to switch it on?’’, looking around for a button. He shook his head, popping open the cap between the bend of his arm and taking a sip from it. 

Well, you thought, Jaeyoon’s attention turning to the buzzing machine as you relaxed, sighing in content. He was bewildered, asking, ‘’You turned it on?’’ while trying to configure the buttons himself. You met his stare, trying to playfully kick him, exclaiming, ‘’Stop staring at me, turn it on!’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you as he slipped into the darkness of the massager. You were caught in the trap of the machine, its gentle massages turning sinister. 

Your bottles were left empty handed as you felt the soothing motions of the machine. The place was appropriately sized for a team of eight people and two people had managed to occupy a small corner of it. You smiled, thinking of the room itself, trying to enjoy yourself in the moment without thinking of anything else. Meanwhile, Jaeyoon was drifting off, pleasantly lost in the idea of starting something new with you.

Sanghyuk leant on his elbow, propped up by the pillow, peering at you with ambiguous eyes. You merely hummed at his offer and a small smile tugged at your lips. This proposition of his always stood, no matter the circumstance. You thought that there was nothing for you to lose but you were wrong. And so you shrugged, tossing the covers aside and getting in beside him. 

There was a gap in between, obvious that he was treading the waters carefully. You laid next to him, not touching his arm or leg, perhaps expecting him to pull you towards him. The gap was evident, but only to the both of you. He lingered next to your fingers and you interlocked it, turning on your side as you asked, ‘‘Are you worried about something?’‘

Strands of hair flopped on his forehead as he nodded, taking in a deep breath. In doing so, he swallowed his stress and looked at you. He flashbacked to your features, expressions, mannerisms, recounting them one by one. Your breath hitched as he grasped your waist, pulling you closer till your body was touching his. 

There it was. He did not say anything, evident that he didn’t have a reason to be with you today. Unlike his usual line providing you an explanation, he chose to forgo one this time. And he didn’t need to. There had been another fall today at work but he didn’t particularly care about it. Not until he heard you say in that tone of voice, ‘’It’s all the same, it doesn’t matter’’ with that look in your eyes.

It was as if you didn’t know each other that well, that you hadn’t been sleeping with each other all this time. Like he had once heard, there is an emotional component to sex. All he had done then was nod, but then began his doubts and he wanted to know if it was true. 

If you reciprocated his feelings. You cleared your throat, removing the strands of hair from his face. ‘’Say something’’ you murmured, and he only replied by caressing your cheek and bringing you closer to him. He wanted your lips, to feel you on every part of his body and for you to pull him close and hold him and tell him how much of a good boy he was for you. 

‘‘You look like you’re in a different place today’‘ you continued and he decided that he would tell you. His heart began racing and he got nervous, shifting his line of sight to the ceiling. You sighed in frustration, leaning a distance away from him, removing his hand from yours. 

There was no rule that you couldn’t like each other, you were adults and you could sort this out as it happened. But you hadn’t known why you did not speak about it all this time. You had purposely thrown him off these days, either by telling him that you were busy and you couldn’t meet up with him or that you just were not available. And like that, what was in sight was out of mind. 

But it hurt you. To see the look on his face was painful and you could remember crying about it once. But whatever your reason was, you wanted to settle this. 

Your friend could not understand why you wanted to turn Sanghyuk down. She was in disbelief over his physique and how sweet of a guy he was and the fact that the two of you got along very well. She was proud of you for finding someone whose intentions were good, inside and out. ‘’You need to say something Sanghyuk’’ you said, reaching out for his hand. 

‘‘I’m not sure how to-’‘ he started, waving his hands in the air. But he pulled you, planting his lips on yours. And you did this thing with swinging around on your decisions. You gave in, kissing him back. It was pretty, sure, because you had kissed many times. This time, there was a confession leaning over your head and Sanghyuk did not anticipate the fact that you would accept. 

You needed to think about it. ‘’Please stop thinking so hard. Tell me. I just want to tell you that I like you. You want to say, ‘’Although, I like you too, it’s complicated’’.’’. It was a gold-mine worth of information which shouldn’t have been worth its value. As you leaned back and told him, he listened and just when you had finished he groaned out a ‘’come here’’ and pulled you into his arms. 

In three moments, he told you some statements that began to mean so much more than some cheesy lines written on a paper. Perhaps, when those lines were written, the writer had empathised with the person and then understood the deeper meaning of those lines. You realised that you hadn’t read the text properly, skimping over it. But now, you gasped in awareness, his softness and gentleness bringing tears to your eyes. 

He wiped them away, pressing a kiss to each cheek. The two of you laid there in the peacefulness of being in each other’s arms, the threads of your relationships being folded by beautifully intricate knots. When the last hours of the week had arrived, Sanghyuk was so exhausted that he fell asleep in your arms. You had been watching tv as he sat there, persistently asking to eat you out. 

You had narrowed your eyes but you then as you looked at him, you remember caving in. The yes was fairly quick. He also moved quickly onto his knees, clearing telling you, ‘’Thank you’’ before he took off your bottoms, propping your knees on his shoulders. You had tugged his hair, making him go faster as your eyes absent-mindedly trailed to his messy nose and mouth. 

You had told him how much of a mess he was making and when you asked him if he liked it, he proceeded to giggle. He ate you out multiple times, ignoring the ache of sitting on his calf muscles and only focused on you. You cleaned yourself up, making a mental note to return the favour, in another way as you tucked him into the sofa, throwing your leg over him and falling asleep like a baby. 

'’Are you feeling okay?’’ you asked your boyfriend, whose sighing was aimless, less than distinct the fatality of the sound of giving up. He was constantly running his hands through his hair. However, to take the hair out of his face he was met with the bright sunlight that the open curtains let through, shining almost everywhere apart from you. 

You were barely covered by the warmth of the high-numbered tog cover. Each part of your body was warming up, leaving with something of an uncomfortable feeling. Seokwoo was rehearsing lines in his head, too many thoughts swarming, not permitting him to concentrate. He was unaware that you were watching him, almost losing him to a daydream. 

Attention on him when he discarded his slippers, you pulled the covers over him as he settled into your side. He grumbled nonsense words that made you chuckle, lovingly caressing his cheek, losing your grasp as he smiled. You smiled back, nestling into the warmth of his arms, throwing an arm over him and kissing each eye that blinked in wondersome, secretly glowing with love too.

He laid on his back so that you were on top of him and hence, earned a giggle from you. Looking at you, he softly spoke, not vague in his indication of what he was speaking about, ‘’You know how I’ve been working all these days?’’. It was unfair, that so many people in his profession had to deal with a distinct loss of sleep and fatigue.

You hummed, encouraging him with a nod, understanding that it was building up and today, he couldn’t seem to make it work with what he had in front of him. ‘’I can’t do it- No, I can but I’m too tired right now’’ he continued, heaviness not allowing him to continue. 

As he told you the details in a soft, whispery voice and light-heartedly neutral tone, you felt a deep sense of sadness overcome you. You wanted to help him so you told him many things. There was a story of your own work, wrapping the details with a snapping recovery from previously stimulated events. All the while, he listened carefully, not saying a word, occasionally asking a question or too. The latter especially made you smile as you carded your fingers through his hair, laying your head on his chest while speaking to him.

‘‘It won’t be the defining moment of your life, ever. It always feels like it in the moment but when you pass it, you won’t look behind. And when you do, it will be because you have already encountered something so difficult. ’‘ you spoke, peeking at him humming in agreement. ‘‘How much longer do you think you’ll need on it?’‘ you asked and he sighed, lost in contemplation over the calculation of the number of days he would need for this. 

You chuckled, grasping his fingers and softly nestling against his cheek, bringing him back to reality. ‘’Should we do something instead? Maybe you can take a break for a little while?’‘ you questioned, thoughts already forming in your head. He lit up at this idea, giving one last look to the work on his desk before you tugged him along to the kitchen. 

‘‘It’s good for you, you know. Like it’s good to get out and do stuff’‘ you said with a laugh, flailing your hands arounds to try and get him to understand that you wanted him to cook. You held back your laughter as he stood there with an apron on, utensil tilted at an angle, egg almost about to be whisked and an unamused expression adorning his handsome face. 

He had not thought that he would be the one to cook! The pearly whites of your teeth showed as he looked up, sighed, collecting himself while standing in front of the counter, holding in his laughter as he heard yours float the room. He shook his head stating, ‘‘You are so sneaky? When did you even put this on me?’‘ he laughingly questioned, motioning with an open mouth of feeling startled towards the apron that he had no idea how- landed on him. 

You whole-heartedly shrugged, smiling as you grabbed a handful of chocolate cereal, dipping them one by one in Nutella. ‘’Give me some’’ he salivated, opening his mouth as you filled it. He gladly received them, moaning in delight, instantly savouring the double-sweetness of the snack. 

His cheeks moving in cute, little circles as he crunched, flipping the sizzling pancake. Leaning back, he cleared his hair from his face and you admired his bare face. ‘’More’’ he said, bringing you out of your day-dream. You were watching the way he moved, licking his lips as you asked, ‘’Should we add some Nutella to the pancakes?’’.

He excitedly nodded, saying, ‘’And some bananas and that, what is it?’’, leaving you mid-state as you collected the ripe ones, peeling them open and slicing the softness. You began guessing, ‘’Caramel?’’ to which he replied, ‘’Similar!’’. You were suspicious, adding, ‘’Are you just going along with the first thing I say?’’.

‘‘No’‘ he stated, laughing, even more so when you said, ‘‘Yea, honestly, I can’t think of anything else. What do we have in the house?’‘. The pancake almost burned before you pointed to it and in a hurry he turned it over. The both of you sighed in relief because it could be eaten. It hadn’t been too far gone for it to meet the trash. 

‘‘The thing that people drizzle on their- oh! maple syrup!’‘ he exclaimed and it clicked in your head, saying, ‘‘That! Where is it?’‘. He threw his head back, holding back a playful groan, replying, ‘‘I don’t know. I have never tasted it’‘.

‘‘It’s been in our house for decades though’‘

‘’Don’t play. How did it taste?’’

‘‘I thought that it would really sweet you know?’‘

‘‘Uh-huh, like when they drizzle too much and the whole thing is just-’‘ he expressed distastefully with his mouth.

‘’Yea! But it wasn’t. It was kinda sweet and I ended up having some more’’

‘’What did you have it with’’

‘’Bananas and buttered bread’’ and he agreed, salivating in delight.

What a cutie, you thought, getting off your seat to pinch his cheeks and make cooing noises at him, then wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his side. When you looked up at him, he leaned to give you a kiss, beautifully wholesome and restrained, warm breaths exchanging as he comfortably moved against your lips, hands mid-air but lips softly pressing against yours. The pancakes sizzled, crisping around the edges as you softly moaned into the kiss, the thumping of your heart ever present in your ears. 

Almost as far as he could grasp the situation, he was also having trouble. The trouble to walk as he would occasionally stumble, he tried not to make a habit of it. He was sweating, mini droplets of blood splattered over the right side of his hair and face. 

He chuckled, muttering an incomprehensible set of words as he looked down at his right leg. It was bleeding, viciously. The blood was seeping from out of the wound and staining his trousers and he could feel it. He could feel its pain, jolting out his dream-like state when a car honked. 

He was surprised because it wasn’t that loud as compared to other cars. The sound was almost muffled and he smiled, clutching his leg as he continued walking. He shook his head, clearing his mind when he realised that he was supposed to be catching the suspect. 

Adrenaline flew through body, almost faltering but he wouldn’t give up. Sweat greatly stained his hair, dampening it to stick to his forehead. He stumbled, catching the corner of a wall to steady himself, and then he moved on. He walked and walked, not giving up and finally, the perpetrator was in sight. 

He weakly called out for you to stop. You had just taken a rough turn and although your muscles ached, you needed to keep going. The faint rustling of the detective’s steps and voices could be heard. You ran and ran, the distinct voices of cry ringing through your mind. 

You did not hear Zuho at first. He reached out for you in the darkness of the night, lightbulbs then collided with a huge trash can. The noise echoed and you jumped back, struggling to get yourself in the blind spots of the cameras that lined the alley. 

Breathing heavily, you glared at the figure that was crouched. You only figured that it was someone drunk or high, until the headlight lit up. You were taken back, your system freezing as you viewed the fatigued face of Zuho. Through the ups and downs of your career that had been impacted by the fall of various democratic powers, the two of you joined the resistance. 

In its early stages, when there were hardly many people, you slowly climbed the ranks, proving yourself to be an asset to the growing group. Zuho, on the other hand, remained close by, not desiring to engage in the ranks of the resistance. Instead, you kept your status as his mentor, teaching him how to hone his skills. 

He looked after the house that the two of you owned, taking on the role of domestic duties till you came home from work and made love to him. When the resistance wanted to utilise all their people to the best of their abilities, he gladly took on the role of househusband, even if they did not have a job opening for him.  

‘‘Shit’‘ you muttered, walking back to Zuho. The bells rang louder, the closer you approached Zuho. His lieutenant’s badge shone in gold and you crouched, desperately telling him, ‘‘I can’t take you back. They will find out about you’‘. He moaned in pain and when you pushed back his hair, you were overcome with the need to kiss him. 

You pulled yourself back, watching from the corner of your eyes about the detectives and in that moment, he collapsed. His weight gave way and with a thud, he hit the floor. You decided not to let him die on this floor. You adamantly shouted into your receiver, ‘’Help me!’’. You heard the footsteps rush behind you, pulling you off the floor and pushing you in the direction of the car. 

As you looked back, you saw them in a co-ordinated manner pick him up. Getting into your cars, you drove away, your colleague looking back at the soldiers who were scrambling to treat Zuho. ‘’This will fuck our plans’’ he muttered, holding back tears at Zuho’s state. You weakly chuckled, eyes dropping but you fought to stay awake saying, ‘’We will see from here on out’’. 

Handling businesses on the ground made you realise that your group had more power than you thought. The workers of the law were corrupt, not all of them though. Some of them fought against these dirty workers and while some slipped into the greediness of money, some held on, even if their hands were burned off. The pain that rotted the city was terrible and you were sure that you had not seen the worst of it.   

You were received by medics of a nearby camp and you woke up, shortly before the completion of two whole days. When you woke up, you reported to your boss first, then searched for Zuho. You walked the place by yourself, not wanting to answer any questions. Although, it was nice to know that people still cared for you even after your undercover disappearance for the last six months. 

You smiled, pausing when you saw Zuho laying on the bed, saline attached to his right hand vein and catheter hanging on the other side. You showed your badge to the cards and the barcode right above your right hand elbow. As soon as they verified both, you almost slowed down, tracing the board that held his information. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, repeatedly blinking, walking and turning around. Clearing your throat, you stood up and shook your shoulders in a motion that was similar to shaking the weight off. You sat back down, leaning on Zuho’s shoulder and grasping his hand, you softly squeezed. The last of your relief washed over you and you desperately wanted the feeling to come back. 

It felt good and after so long, you knew that your battles had only just begun. You had made a mistake by bringing him here. But it was either that or he would have died by the time they had gotten him to a hospital past the civilian areas. Zuho woke up, seeing your form peaceful. He was overwhelmed, mouth dry and a groan escaped his lips causing your head to snap up. 

You handed him a glass of water, his thirst as a result of the injection he had been given. You smiled, reaching over to place a kiss on his cheek. ‘’Should I just stay with you?’’ he groggily asked, gently squeezing your hand when you smiled, placing another gentle kiss to his cheek. ‘’You should stay’’ you commented, having already chosen a plan with your commander. 

It included Zuho and all you needed was his approval on his part. You pressed the button on the control and you kicked your shoes off, joining him. ‘’I was worried about you all the time, you know.’’ you spoke, breaking the peaceful silence. He had been stationed not far from you but you could never see him. Such meetings were prohibited. At the end of every three weeks, you did meet and bask in each other’s warmth in your provided house. 

But once every twenty-one days was not enough. He always wanted to be with you but there was the risk of your jobs clashing and interfering with your work plans. ‘’I was worried about you too. It was hard not to’’ he replied, nudging your cheek with his nose. He wanted to reunite with you right now, squeezing your arm as he slid down to your waist. 

You connected your lips, running through his soft hair, grasping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Your bodies touched, the warmness exchanging in your own space. You put a hand on his chest, smiling as you leaned back, whispering in his ear, ‘’ We can’t, you have a catheter on’’. 

Only for this context was it a moment of finality and his ears almost burned when he groaned, kissing you and leaning back, throwing his head back on the pillow. Your laughs mingled and you patted his better leg, getting off the bed. ‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, eyes curiously wide and hand reaching for your presence. 

You hummed, a bounce in your step as you said, ‘’I’ll go get some food for us’’. He nodded, pausing when you spoke up once again, ‘’I was just thinking of how to pleasure you. Think about it while I’m gone.’’, patting the wall as you left. Upon hearing you, he groaned,  letting out a small cry. The catheter was the least of his problems because it was the wound that would take most time to heal. 

He smiled at your words, looking at the direction in which you left, thinking, what a person. However, he was filled with an even bigger sense of determination. He would live and see this problem to its end. And then he would buy a house with you and have kids. He could see himself eating the food he cooked and watching tv with them all day, smiling into his dream. Your relationship was never founded from this war anyways. 

It was never torn apart because of it and you always stood by each other’s side. He decided that he would fight beside you, taking your guidance and training himself for the final war to come. He imagined a gun in his hand, pulling the trigger over the perpetrators of violence against the civilians he had spent months building trust with. 

Taeyang came home bone-tired. His shoulders ached, joints unnecessarily struggling. There was a familiar tiredness in his body, radiating throughout. It seeped into whole wavelengths and he was sure that you noticed it. And it was hard not to as he mumbled something incoherent, resting his head on your shoulder, sighing as he inhaled the smell of home. 

Secure was the feeling that surrounded him, the one he realised was the most important after being in this industry for so long. So normal were some things that many didn’t even notice how invading it was. He found that it came from his members, his family and you. To get home after a long day and not be all alone in the house. It was the knowing that saved him from rolling his eyes and falling asleep on the floor. 

You awed, snuggling into him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing him whisper, ‘’I’m too tired, we should go to sleep’’. His stomach garbled, empty from hours of burning and burning, tirelessly or passionately, easy to understand that he had some sort of fire raging within him. All that fire was laying low now, needing fuel to rage. You chuckled, grasping his hand as you asked, ‘’How was your day?’’, leading him to the kitchen. 

He nodded, giving you a thumbs up and slumping on the table. You turned around in surprise as he whined a little, telling you belatedly, ‘’There are too many things to do. I have to shower, wash up, eat and then sleep. It’s like there is a never-ending list of things to do.’’. You cracked up at his statement, drawing some chuckles from him too.

‘‘I’m just saying, you know.’‘ he said as you placed noodles in front of him. The smell was enough to wake him up as he perked up, drooping eyes being set aside. ‘’I ate, you go ahead.’’ you said, motioning to his food. 

‘’What time did you get home?’’ he asked in between bites.

‘‘Afternoon’‘

‘‘Was it tiring? How was it?’‘, he questioned, slurping the noodles.

You hummed, nodding, ‘’Tiring and we did the best that we could. Anyways, I don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon. So, at the office-’’.

Twirling the noodles around, he listened to your story, commenting, ‘’You did it because you thought it was best. The important thing is that now they know. They don’t have questions and stuff.’’ 

You agreed, ‘’They don’t have questions and they aren’t confused’’, continuing, ‘’The competition is tough, you must be stressed no?’’

‘‘You know what I’m worried about. Although it is the same old, even if we manage to get something out of this, I will be proud’‘.

You wowed, replying, ‘’You should always be proud of your team. It’s not easy wanting something. When your own standards haven’t been met for a long period of time, you don’t realise that you’ve been trying to achieve even the littlest of things.’’

He was silent at your statement, inquisitive to your words, gears turning in his head. ‘’Between the both of us, it will be stronger if it comes from you. Aim higher, this is the real-world so be careful of what you want.’’

‘‘Fair enough, not everyone gets what they want’‘ he hummed, washing his bowl. 

Shifting to the bed, he joined you after his shower, bouncing on the mattress with a sigh of content. Like a child receiving their favourite toy, he smiled upon meeting the comforter, its warmth hugging him. You held him to your chest and he snuggled right in, lulling to the way you carded your fingers through his hair.

The night was pleasant, enough for him to kick the covers off, speaking to you with closed eyes, ‘’This competition will keep me awake forever’’. He chuckled, continuing, ‘’I’m buzzing right now’’. 

You lolled, ‘’Buzzing? You did the most activity around today and you are still awake? That’s remarkable’’. The comment drew Taeyang to open his eyes who gently poked your side, chuckling as he commented himself, ‘’Are you asleep?’’. You hummed, throwing your leg over him and asking, ‘’What do you want?’’. 

He lay awake, pondering over your question and you literally peeled open your eyes to tell him, ‘’Sleep Tae, nothing bad will happen. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.’’. He turned around at your statement, bringing you closer to him. You were safely tucked away in your fiancé’s arms and the two of you slept until late dawn, only stumbling in the kitchen for some lunch.               

He groaned, over and over again. Ever since he had laid down to sleep, he felt nauseous, its grip vice in his stomach and throat. He tossed back and forth, side to side, changing positions to comfort himself. He was alarmed at the sensitivity of his body, aware that something was wrong, but was unable to discern till the last moment that he would vomit. 

He released the gruesome contents into the bucket he had prepared mid-struggle. He was scared. He did not want to experience the same thing again. The pain in his throat was like stinging, but from the inside. It was like something had clawed through, letting the marks fester. He kept wondering why this was, it had never happened to him before.

He grasped his head, the pain causing him to fall back onto the bed and close his eyes. Till the pain had passed, he did not move an inch, holding still. The pain faded away and after laying down some more, he picked up his heavy bones and made his way to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

He called out to you in the darkness, cautiously entering to find you. For the type of person you were, he knew that you’d take action immediately, questions later but he didn’t think that mattered. It was more about the fact that he loved you and felt comfortable in your arms. 

He knew that it would be a heavy confession for you, if he ever got around to telling you about it. His feelings about you were big and complex, especially when he was unaware of how you felt about him. You were dead asleep, softly snoring but when a specific word like ‘’Noona?’’ floated in your head, your eyebrows furrowed and you wondered if you were really dreaming. 

Waking up with a jolt, you groggily asked him, ‘’Are you okay?’’, reaching out for him in the darkness. He shook his head and you pulled him to sit on the bed, him telling you in reply, ‘’I puked’’.

You awed, pulling him in for a hug. He looked so adorable as he said it, a small pout adorning his face, cheeks probably pink and cutely looking at you. He looked small in this moment and you couldn’t help but bring him into your arms, comfortingly running your hands through his hair while whispering soothing words of praise. 

You also could not help pouting yourself, deep sadness spreading within you as you thought of him in pain, thinking, poor baby. ‘’I should-’’, ‘’Huh?’’ overlapped as he quickly got up, starting to regret his decision to come here. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bed. ‘’You can sleep here’’ you motioned, separating your pillows to give him one.  

You got into the covers, leaving half the bed for him. He opened his mouth in question and you rested on your elbow, telling him, ‘’If you aren’t comfortable enough, you can go back. Trust me, I won’t mind. It’s all the same to me’’. You cleared your throat, laying back down, regretting your last set of words. He got into the bed, thinking at the same time, Alright, it’s all the same. 

After resting for a couple of seconds, you turned around, saying, ‘’I lied, it’s not the same to me’’. He hummed, snapping his head to you, taken aback by your taking back. Exposing his beautiful gummy smile in the near darkness, he replied, ‘’Just to be clear, I feel the same way about you’’. It was shorter than he had anticipated because you had given a response he had not thought would happen.

‘‘What’s on your mind?’‘ you asked and through some small words, it became a better conversation. He elaborated himself and under the softness of the light, you curled up into each other. You snuggled in each other’s warmth, some peacefulness filling this hectic lives of yours. You pressed a kiss to his temple as he slept like a baby, keeping a close eye on his condition throughout the night. 

Chani was asleep, amongst the fluffy covers that enveloped his frame from head to toe. Snuggled with an air of warmth around him, insulating him from the slight cold of the autumn breeze, he softly snored in the midst. The clock of his sleep was ticking for almost ten hours now and so peacefully did he look as he slept that you let him be. 

After running from pillar to post and staying up for filming, he was undeniably exhausted. His eyes would not open, heavy in their mood and feeling almost like tape held them together. Prying them open, he groaned, catching your attention. The refusal of his eyes were utmost and so he shut them and laid back down, comforting himself on the pillows. You moved from your desk to the bed and you laid a hand on his chest, softly calling out, ‘’Baby?’’. 

Hearing no response, you leant over him, giving him a kiss and gently shaking him. You repeatedly whispered your nickname for him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck and snuggling into the warm space. You chuckled as he hazily groaned, words indistinct to your ears, laying a hand on your waist. 

You had just finished completing your report, thinking nonsense vacation dreams to yourself of the things you could do if you had time off for the next few days. ‘‘I’m up’‘ he noted, pulling his eyelids open regardless of how much they hurt. When he found clarity, he switched your positions so that he was facing you. ‘’Go back to sleep but I just wanted to know if you were okay.’’ you stated, placing another soft kiss to his jawline. 

His cheeks were puffed from having just woken up and he looked adorable. If you had told him that he would have asked, ‘’Why?’’ and tossed his head back and forth in playful frustration. Even then you would have found him cute. You tucked a stray hair back into the softness, admiring his sleepy form, eyes barely staying open as he lingered over you. 

‘’I won’t go back to sleep’’ he murmured, making you chuckle, knowing that sooner or later he would lay on his back again and doze into another world. He shook himself awake as you replied, ‘’It looks like you need sleep though’’ causing him to roll his eyes. He hummed, throwing a leg over you and nestling into your neck, probably still in the state where he felt as if he was dreaming. 

You kissed his neck, peppering a trail of light kisses in the same area, combing through his hair. He could feel the touch of your lips leave a trace of warmth on every spot, gently urging him to wake up. After a couple of minutes, Chani inquisitively asked, ‘’How long was I asleep for?’’ startled at the answer you gave him. He poked his head out from the crook of your neck, staring at you with open eyes as he registered the double-digit number.

‘‘I had work to do...’‘ he said, trailing off. After two seconds of debating, he plopped back into your warmth, deciding that he could do it later. Lightly pushing his shoulder emitted a groan from him, one that resembled ache. Plopping on his back, your giggle turned into concern as you asked him, ‘‘Are you feeling okay?’‘. 

‘‘My back hurts, and legs too.’‘ he nodded, playing with strands of your hair. You hummed, asking, ‘‘Do you want me to give me you an oil massage?’’. He perked up at the idea, graciously kissing you and telling you that he would return the favour.

As he sat on the bed, you admired his toned back. Squirting a bit of oil onto your palm, you rubbed your palms together and at the first touch, he relaxed. You brought both your thumbs together, rubbing in circles and squeezing the ache from his muscles. 

He moaned in delight, hands on knees as he lost himself in the pleasure. It was like the pain was evaporating from his overworked muscles. You chuckled at his noises, his soft whines escaping when you touched a particular part in the middle of his back. When you were done, you grasped his face and kissed him passionately. 

His hands wandered around your waist, tugging at the hem of your top. You giggled in delight, breaking away from the kiss, meeting his eyes. He grabbed your legs that had been straddling his waist and leaning back from planting another kiss onto your neck, he asked you, ‘’Should I do you?’’. 

You squealed as he tossed you on the bed, motioning to your top and as you took it off, he began his lustful descent, starting by him dragging the whole thing out, leaving you in beautiful shambles. 

[hanazou]

So um .. I just recently found your blog and even though you haven't written that much but you really have a unique writing style and I'm in love 🥺💞 .

So may I please request fyodor and/or sigma headcanons or scenario (whatever you're feeling comfortable with ) being on a date with their s/o and getting lost somewhere trying to find their way back home ? I mean it's just so adorable and been on my mind for a while.

And thank you 💚

𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.

— how did you end up here? getting lost wasn't on the agenda.

Book : Fyodor | Sigma

Genre : Fluff with romance or implied romance

Category: Scenario

Word count : 0.8K | 1K

Bookshelves : Leatherbound

Note : I love this request! Thank you so, SO much for requesting Fyodor and Sigma! Truthfully these are far from being my best works, but I hope you enjoy this, love! It took me a while since I had to make sure these are in-character :") Thank you for the patience!

I hope you enjoy these! 💛

“This is quite the view,” Fyodor smiles to himself, fingers treading around his chin like creeping vines. “Yokohama has a sophistication to it after all.”

“Fyodor,” His name from your mouth rolls out slower compared to the cars on the road near you both to give the impression that your patience is unscathed. “We’re lost.”

Yokohama isn’t too huge of a prefecture for you and Fyodor to get lost in while exploring for the sake of the upcoming Cannibalism scheme, but since you both insist to check out even the smallest of details because one can never be too perfect, exploring took the whole day. Outlining the landmarks on a map would have sufficed, but you and Fyodor agreed that travelling in first-person is more helpful in discovering things that can trick the enemies, and that agreement led you travelling together.

It wasn’t hard for someone to get drunk in this cozy atmosphere and forget why they were here, especially if they’re with someone they trust and are fond of. For you, that person happens to be this pale and sickly genius.

The foreign building structures, the bustling unfamiliar crowd, the compact scent from street food vendors you've never tasted, and the crunch of dry leaves under your feet, they are all different from home, but the striking allure and exoticness are undeniable. Hence, you and Fyodor lost track of time and direction. Not to mention his needy eye for aesthetic slows down the pace.

You don’t want to say this aloud, but this atmosphere and mood, doesn’t it feel like going on a date?

Never mind that—you both were having too much fun brainstorming for ideas, too many alleys to check out, too many manholes to note, too many dead ends to utilize for you to recognize both of you have strayed off the planned route. On the bright side is, Fyodor found the ideal, secluded, dead-end alley for him to station his sniper to attack a certain detective, but the bad side is, while chatting with him about how and where to allocate your pawns, you and Fyodor didn’t pay attention to where you’re going.

Where in Yokohama are you now?

Neither of you planned to walk this far around the prefecture, so you can’t pinpoint your position on the map inside your pocket.

“I have great confidence in my memory,” Fyodor gazes around. “I can find our way back.”

“Then why are we still here after—” you look at your watch. “—half an hour?”

“I thought that while having the opportunity, we should take our time to know this area better. There’s artistry in any form of structure even in those we will decimate soon.” He pivots his head to you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He sounds like he’s beating around the bush. He won’t admit he got both of you lost.

You hum. “You still don’t know where we are,” You bring the focus back to your point. “Let me take my turn navigating our way back home,” You reach for the minimap in your pocket. “You’ve had your share of getting us lost.”

You wonder how in the world a prodigy like Fyodor affords to get lost. You consider the possibility of him being distracted by this little trip (that feels like a date) itself since you caught yourself doing that, but you shake off that thought. You ought to stop being delusional.

“As you wish,” He smiles at your proposal. “But only because you insist.”

You make wild guesses of your current position by observing the buildings and shops, try to figure out where you are on the map, and take the lead in guiding yourself and Fyodor back. He follows your headship without any protests, taking the same turn as you elegantly. 

You catch Fyodor also observing the map with you while he matches his legs in coordination with yours. His eyes turn to you and his raised dark brows ask you why you’re staring at him.

“Is it because you’re not confident I can take us back that you’re watching the map with such focus?” You bait, half smiling.

You want him to admit that he trusts you. It’s a pleasant feeling, hearing someone like him value your judgement.

He made a soft chortle from his chest. “Impossible, my dear,”  Fyodor says.

He stops in his tracks.

The sudden halt makes you pause too, and you lower the map to look at his whole face.

You jolt when he takes your hand with his icy pale fingers, guiding your palm to rest on his chest. His coolness mixing with your warmth creates a perfect state of equilibrium that mirrors both your difference yet similarity with him.

“I simply enjoy our mundane little detour.” His voice's vibration from his chest rumbles your hand. His smile is like cotton, but the sharp violet in his eyes holds power over you. “Allow my heartbeat to be the witness of honesty in my words.”

His heartbeat thumps in an orderly calming pattern, his chilly skin still sheathing your hand to press it against his chest.

Ah.

So maybe getting lost isn’t so bad after all.

Your eyebrows quirk when you notice the same scenery outside the car window, forehead matted against the cold glass. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

Sigma’s lips tense down, still staring at the road ahead. “Uhm, yes?” His eyes dart at you for one second.

The two of you, Sigma and yourself, are on your way to visit the last potential location for Sky Casino to expand its branch down below. He demonstrated more than enough faith in your judgement when he invited you to travel to the cities under the sky, offering you a ride in his lavish car. If it were with another person, you wouldn’t see too much into this situation. But with Sigma, it’s a whole different story.

It was the having a luncheon together in a prestigious restaurant of a five star resort with him ordering the best dish for you with a warm smile when he described your order to the waiter. Another being his gentlemanly mannerism, he made a shallow bow when allowing you into his car and opened the door for you, also holding your hand as you got in. The hospitality and elegance from his demeanour excites your heartbeat.

In Sky Casino, he may be your employer and you his employee, but with just the two of you, he makes you feel like the most treasured royalty.

Sigma clears his throat, his fist in front of his mouth while the other around the steering wheel. “I’m certain I’ve memorized every route for the casino’s potential branches.” He glances at the note on the dashboard where the addresses are.

You raise your eyebrows seeing a tower ahead. “And I’m certain we’ve passed that tower in front of us at least twice.”

The expression Sigma makes is made of mild surprise, frustration, and gloom.

"Let's face it," You slouch down your seat. "We're lost."

Sigma repeatedly looks from the scribbled map on the dashboard to the road back and forth, fingers squeezing the wheel in uneasiness. “I could’ve sworn we took the right turn this time…”

Your shoulders deflate at the expression Sigma makes. You feel bad for putting it bluntly. “How about I drive while asking for directions from the locals? You must be tired since we’ve been travelling for hours.”

His head turns swiftly at you, long dual-coloured hair whishing. “You know where we are?” He asks before quickly turning his sight back to the road, stealing glances.

“Not exactly, but I’m familiar with the local dialect and I can ask for directions easily.”

The hesitation and disappointment are still evident on Sigma’s face. You purse your lips, hesitant in how to phrase your next words. “Employers employ people to be assisted with the workload and to have someone to share concerns with. I’m not here just for you to treat me like royalty, I’m also here to assist you.”

Sigma huffs a smile, taking chances to look at your face now and then. “Do you mind the treatment for a royalty?”

“No.” You deny a little too fast. You clear your throat, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Absolutely not,” You speak slower. “But even royalties have to give back, right?”

He fails to hide his laughter. He sounds so free, unrestrained, and possibly the most relaxed that day, making your cheeks swell with a prideful smile. As long as he gets to laugh, you don't mind sounding silly. “By asking for directions while talking using a local dialect?” He asks.

Sigma lightly giggles. “Alright, you win.” He slows down the car, eyeing the rear mirror to make a quick stop at the side of the road. “I’m afraid to crash us from feeling exhausted anyways.”

He makes a parallel park and the car comes to a full stop, engine still smoothly running and vibrating the interior.

You ruffle his silky dual-coloured hair as smooth as the leather seat. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” You say, tinting his cheeks pink. “Allow me to treat you like royalty from now on.”

When you retract your hand, Sigma’s head automatically follows with the yearning to get more touch.

Your eyes enlarge and so does his. He whirls away, hands hiding his face. Loud and uncontrolled laughter erupts from your belly despite you covering your mouth to tone it down. You want to stop—but your chest keeps heaving out the joy, raising your shoulders to your ears.

Sigma shrinks in embarrassment, his long hair curtaining his face as he buries his head to his knees. He looks like a tulip in that driver’s seat. With his fair pale skin, even from your distance you can see the red on his face. “Please don’t tell anyone about it…” His voice can be barely distinguished from your untamed laugh.

“The secret’s safe with me.” You wipe a tear as your laughter slows down. You exhale a wide smile, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Alright, let’s switch now before the sun sets.”

“Wait!” Sigma springs out from his position and hurries his hand to land on yours before you open your door. You tilt your head, and he responds with “Don’t open the door yet.”

He dashes out and jogs to get to your side of the car. He opens your door and stands on the side with a shallow bow, his empty hand offered to you. You stifle a giggle when you accept his hand that gently helps you up until you fully stand outside.

You grin for the umpteenth time at Sigma’s chivalry that reminds you of the demonstration of romance during the regency era. It’s simple things like this that boosts your confidence and comfort around him. You can definitely get used to this.

That is until Sigma’s bow deepens so his lips kiss your hand.

You tense. You expected a normal escort when stepping out. The unforeseen princely kiss and his smile send you on haywire—why are you even there? Why did you go all this way into an unfamiliar city? Just to get kissed? To have him act like your Prince? Why is he even kissing you?

“Even without disembarking a journey I still get lost in your touch and laughter.” He straightens his body, elevating your hand to stay on his lips and chin. You feel his breath on your skin. “Thank you for giving me the honour of getting lost with you.”

Then you remember.

You're there to be with him.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[viking-raider]

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 1  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

---

Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

--

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

--

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

[dropofgoldensun]

omg hiiiii i am here from cat (@luvdsc) wondering if you could offer any advice about college apps 🙏 especially about the uc piqs? thank you so much i hope ur doing well!!!!!!!!

yes yes hello friend !! 💝 miss cat directed you to me because i did my college apps last year !!! (yikes one year passed already?? why does that feel ages ago 🤧)

first of all, congratulations on making the decision to apply to college !! i know it’s been hard for a lot of people our age to figure out the college situation recently, so i’m proud of you for choosing to take the extra step this summer to buckle up and write those essays 💞

i’ve compiled a few tips on answering the PIQs (i was actually in the middle of typing this up when i received your ask haha), but some of them can be applied to other essays, as well !! they’re all under the cut (because, unfortunately, being brief is not my forte) 😊

(and for reference, the prompts i chose were #2 (creativity), #6 (subject), #7 (community), and #8 (anything) !!)

tip #1: understand the prompt.

before you even begin writing, it’s important to understand what the question is really asking. for the UC PIQs, this will look different depending on which four prompts you decide to do.

in question one, for example, they want to know about your skills in leading others, but notice that they’re also curious about your resolution abilities and teamwork experience. or in question two, they don’t want to know that you paint and that you love painting—they could be asking how resourceful you are, how you think outside the box when you have an idea.

once you know the question you’re going to be answering, you can move on to brainstorming!

tip #2: write down three (3) key takeaways.

these are like the most basic, not-even-a-sentence answers you would give to each question. so for me, in response to question eight (“what do you believe makes you stand out as a strong candidate for the UCs?”), my answers were perseverance, courage, and character. i had a story about that, so i wrote about my experience with martial arts.

i recommend you do something similar. decide on three things that you want to communicate to your audience, and write them in the footnote of your document. your goal is to cover all three points so that, if anyone were to read your essay, they would walk away understanding those three things about you.

i found this strategy really helpful for keeping my essay streamlined while writing—if a sentence didn’t relate to any of those main points, i would cut it since those words would take up valuable space in the word count. stay focused on what needs to be in this essay, and if you have extra words left in the word count later, you can add those details back in.

and once you’re done with your essay, make sure to refer back to your takeaways and check that you covered all of them sufficiently!

tip #3: highlight your stories.

i sent cat an ask a couple days ago with a few pictures of my response to an end-of-year college counseling survey that referenced this tip (you can find it here). basically i said that, when choosing what topics to write about, pick things that interest you! if you get excited talking about it, your audience should get excited about reading it, because they’ll pick up on the passions you have and then everyone’s excited !!! :D

i’ll tell you a secret: everyone you meet, everyone you see, has countless unique experiences that few others may have. me? i spend hours making mashups out of kpop songs. i earned my black belt years after a traumatizing experience during training. i get russian harry potter and spanish dr. seuss books from the library. and i created a collaborative online google photos album for my classmates that now has thousands of entries. although these aren’t necessarily unique to only me, they’re still special enough to the point where, when you put them all together, you get a better image of the person i am, and what i value.

so find a story, a habit, a hobby that makes you different, because i believe that everyone has them. give them some food for thought, or that one-liner that sticks in their brain and won’t go away. and remember: these stories don’t all have to be extraordinary—they should be about people or moments of special value to you, because that’s what matters.

personal tip: when i was brainstorming ideas, i decided that the best way to get ideas out there was to go on a rant (because sometimes it helps to just have a conversation with yourself !!) and i recorded myself, so i could replay what i said !! this was so so crucial to me finding my own voice for writing essays. notice the way you word things when you talk—a good line or two may make it into the final draft :)

i found it helpful to read sample essays as well! they give a lot of great ideas on the kinds of topics people write about. (also, it’s kind of fun, because who doesn’t love a good story?)

but the people reading your essay won’t be there to just enjoy your story; what they really want you to do is to tell them what you learned from your experience. they want to know whether you’re teachable and willing to grow both as a student and as a young adult. so make sure to take note of the life lessons you learned, experience you gained, character you built, etc.

minor tip on ending your essay: if you’re telling a story that happened in the past, then close with what you learned and how you can apply that to your life moving forward. if you’re telling a story that has no definite end yet (like a passion or dream you have), you probably don’t have everything figured out (and you can say that in your essay!), so it might be better to close with your hopes for the future.

tip #4: ask your family for help.

peer-editing is one of the most effective ways to detect errors and inconsistencies in your writing, because, after staring at your essay for so long, you might gloss over glaring contradictions. for all of my essays, i printed them out and asked my parents to help me revise them. we’d meet every other night (or every night, depending on how much time was left) to review and discuss improvements.

i actually kept some of those printed drafts (only the first and the final ones for comparison), and let me tell you from experience—you’re probably going to have a lot of drafts (i think the most i did was seven? but you don’t need to go that far!). this part of the process does take some time, so remember to be patient and kind to yourself :) these essays won’t happen overnight!

enlisting the help of others also helps keep you accountable. one of the struggles many seniors face while writing essays is just... setting aside time to do them. and even though the constant reminders from your parents will definitely get repetitive and a bit stress-inducing, i can tell you from personal experience that i’m so glad they did; otherwise, i don’t think i’d have my essays done in time :’)

while writing college essays is challenging, your family will be there supporting you each step of the way. chances are that they’ll have their own pointers to pass on to you, since they probably remember doing this process themselves! and, out of everyone in your life, they probably remember the most about you (because you probably don’t remember much when you were four or five), so they might have a couple starter ideas for topics when brainstorming. you can rely on them for their advice and their experience.

tip #5: self-editing.

here’s the part that takes the longest time.

use action words. this is probably something you’ve heard all throughout elementary school where they didn’t like you to say “said” because it was “boring”… but honestly, the difference between “doing my own version” and “infusing it with my personality” could go a long way. also, use words that you would actually use in an essay—then it’ll have your own special flair, and not sound like it’s taken from some stuffy 80s textbook!

here are some of the words i used (once again, you shouldn’t use these words if they don’t sound like something you’d write/say): potential, overlay, wrestle, launch, analogous, weave, infuse, experiment, outlet, revel, fascinate, satisfaction, pursue, expand, distinction, capture, range, archive, engage, beyond, build, adversity, cultivate, preserve, commit, explore, convey, naturally

also, be on the lookout for repeated words. i once wrote an essay without noticing that i used “hope” three times in the same paragraph. don’t do that! use synonyms :) personally, i tended to run short on synonyms, so i always kept a tab or two open on my computer reserved for searching up new words.

side note: unfortunately, during my search for synonyms, i discovered that thesaurus.com just didn’t give me what i was looking for. i highly recommend using wordhippo instead; it has so many more options and they’re grouped by the different definitions of your word! i found the synonyms i needed really quickly and it was very satisfying!

avoid the passive voice! my teacher gave me this tip for theses or any other college-level writing. here’s an example of the passive voice: “there was a large part of me that wanted to turn back.” that’s twelve words taking up precious space in your word count! instead, say something like, “i considered turning back.” you’ve just freed up eight words :)

tip #6: final revisions.

this is the step where you fine-tune your essays. meet that word count.

read your writing out loud. does it sound like you? it should. every writer has a different voice, and you need to ensure that yours is pervasive throughout your essay. feel free to use contractions—not only do they reduce your word count (this was a good thing for me, since i had a problem with getting under 350 words), but they also give a more casual tone to your essay, as if you’re telling a story to someone in the room.

next, pretend to be an admissions officer and have someone else read your essay to you. do you get excited hearing about this student who shares your name? if you do, there’s a good chance the real admissions officers will love your essays, too. this also gives you a chance to review to your essay as a whole. pay attention to the overall flow. is there a clear beginning and end? do you resolve the issues and overcome the trials you brought up? listen to it as if it’s a story, and take this time to enjoy what you’ve written. you worked hard!

final thoughts / encouragements.

oh my goodness, did we make it to the end? honestly if you did, thank you so much 🥺

okay but despite my relatively optimistic tone throughout this post, i’m still going to be honest with you—the college essay writing process is difficult. it requires you to look inside yourself and analyze the “why” behind some of the things that you love, and that isn’t easy to do at all. it’s intellectually and emotionally challenging, because not only do you need to use so much energy writing, but you also have to dig deeper to understand yourself, and that’s not easy, either.

but i wanted to encourage you, too. no matter what you may think of yourself at 12am, 2am, 4am writing these essays, believe you have a personality that others love and will love when they meet you. you are an interesting person with unique experiences who deserves to share your thoughts with others. you have so many people behind you, supporting you during these next few months. and when you find that you can’t write any more, remember to take time to care for yourself. have a warm shower. go to bed early. i could go on and on about why sleep is good for your brain but i’ll spare you the details in this post 😉

one last thing: keep the bigger picture in focus. remember, by december or january, you will be finished with most of the application process. that’s no small accomplishment. you can do it. 💝

i really hope you found tips that you were looking for, and that they’re applicable to your own PIQs and other essays !! if you have any other questions, feel free to send in another ask (i promise my response won’t be this lengthy LOL) 💘💓

oh, and if you feel comfortable enough reaching out about anything in particular, i’m only a DM away 💕 i wish you the best of luck on writing your essays and i hope you enjoy your final year of high school !! 💗🌸💟💖

[whoistheasshole]

How do I get out of this unsatisfying life I’m living?

Anonymous asks: So the thing is that I feel incredibly stuck - I have all the basics of life which I'm grateful for but also that was my BIG dream as a kid, to get tf out of my parents' house - but now I have that and idk what to do for the rest of my life. Like, if I try those "visualize your future" things I'm just like, "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer" & it feels like I don't really WANT anything so I can't plan, you know? Just flailing here honestly. Pretty tired of it.

I wrote back: I got your question. To pinpoint my answer a little better, can you tell me about your current situation, like how long has it been since you moved out? Which are the things you have in order to your satisfaction? Some vague idea of your age range would also be helpful, but I can work without it too if you’d rather not share.

Anonymous answered: Ah, sorry. I was trying to fit in the character limit & also whenever I think about this my mind just goes flbbbbth. It's been about 5 years? That's about the only thing I'm truly HAPPY about, I'm not thrilled with my social/love life, career, etc & have pretty much been just coasting tbh. I'm almost 30. Thanks for entertaining this.

Alright, thanks for adding some background. I will come at this from different angles and you can pretty much pick and choose what sounds helpful and leave the rest, okay?

First, while there are people who have it all figured out, methodically planning their next career step or fully certain that there is no greater joy than raising a child, there are tons of other people who just, to quote, go „ flbbbbth“ when asked about their next steps or, god forbid, their life plan. I would say I fall in the latter camp, but I don’t mind because I think there is nothing wrong with that. I let myself be guided by the things I need to be happy (more on that later) and by current necessities – if my job becomes shit, I need to find a new job. If a friendship goes sour, I need to end it respectfully. But I couldn’t tell you specific career or personal goals, except...

... let’s talk about the „later“ now.

I’m an organizer, maybe even a worrier, and therefore I like lists. And for that reason I made a list a while ago that I still have and expect to keep for a long time. It is a list of everything that I need to be satisfied with my life. It consists of 29 entries and has three of them checked, though several others could be counted as half-checked. I wrote down everything that came to mind, paying no attention whether it was reasonable or feasible to want. That wasn’t the question.

It covers stuff like a clean flat (not checked), restful sleep (not checked), friends that I see regularly (checked) or a job with purpose (not checked). This list is my guide. Well, generally my needs are my guide, but it can be hard to be aware of your needs sometimes, so I got this list. And if I wonder what I need or want to focus on, I can turn to it and choose one of the entries and see what I can do about it. I can also look over the list every few years and see if things have developed in the right direction. Little progress is no reason to chastise myself, but helpful information to see whether I need to re-direct my focus.

Please note that I wrote „satisfied“, not „happy“. Being happy is a passing emotional state. It is completely normal and okay not to be happy all the time. But quiet satisfaction with where you are or where you are going, that is pretty achievable. It certainly is a process, but an enjoyable one.

This list is not a race and it is not really a to-do list because most of the things I wrote down aren’t easy to accomplish with a single action. They take months and years and, for some items, I can only try and hope it works out some day (see anybody who ever purposely looked for a partner).

So maybe this kind of list could be an exercise for you. Maybe it provides you with some insight, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s not the right point in your life. But if you sit down and the only thing you can come up with is „cry forever“ or „sleep forever“ then, you know, that’s a sign.

Which brings me to my next point: Journaling or automatic writing. This method is especially helpful for those „I feel some kind of way and I couldn’t even tell you how“ moments – so maybe exactly where you are right now. Captain Akward has introduced me to a website called „750 words“ and I’ve used the principle of „morning pages“, though not the website, since then whenever I felt like some emotions were starting to boil over.

I sit down, ideally in the morning, and just barf it all on the (digital) page. There are only two rules: 1) Don’t edit or judge yourself, write everything as it comes to mind (that’s the automatic writing part) and 2) Don’t stop before you’ve reached 750 words. You are not looking to write anything readable or clever or lyrical, you’re looking to get all the weirdness out so you can move on. Repeat this as many days as you feel queasy or weird or confused or angry or sad. Each day, as soon as you’ve reached the 750 words, you can walk away. Heck, you could even delete/burn the document if that feels right. It’s just about giving your thoughts the room they need so you can continue with your day, hopefully feeling somewhat relieved.

While we’re at writing, I also have a question for you: Where is the pressure coming from to „do something with your life“? Is it truly coming from inside you or are there outside factors? Are people in your life asking you when you’ll have kids? Do you live in a culture where it’s expected that everybody does something of note, works certain prestigious jobs? Do you compare yourself to the people around you and feel like you’re „late“?

Maybe mull this over on a leisurely walk or write about it, using the method above. No matter where it’s coming from, the feeling of pressure won’t go away just by knowing its origin, but the knowledge can help you keep it under control. And if you find it is truly your own wish, you will have tools to shape your life according to your needs.

So, next, sleep: Maybe do that?

You wrote "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer". I understand this was half a joke, but also … it was probably more than a joke.

How are your energy levels? How does life feel? Are you trying to jog through jello most of these days?

If we’ve been overachievers or had a tough home life or needed to take care of ourselves pretty early, we can become accustomed to everything being difficult. This feeling and behavior can become a way of life, even when circumstances change and we have a chance to act differently.

Do you feel rested? Do you have regular moments of quiet in your life that let you breathe? If not, this is where I would start. Forget about lists, though morning pages might be a helpful accompanying tool (if they don’t become a task to punish yourself with if you don’t find the energy).

Take some weeks or months, maybe even a year to make rest your priority. You will have to find a way that works for you. Yes there is a lot of clinically proven stuff out there, but you will not see me do yoga or meditate. Though feel free if that’s up your alley. If you love cycling or taking photos or drawing or just plain lying on your bed and staring at the wall, see where you can add more of that to your day. Whatever brings you closer to yourself and makes you feel like you can exhale and stand still for a moment, that’s the way to go. Do this as long as sleeping seems like a fine choice. And for good measure maybe a month longer. You are ready to stop when you cannot wait to do something else goddamnit I’m bored!!! (you might say)

If you are in this picture, please start here. Any kind of life plan, next steps, strategizing, solving of riddles would set you back and perpetuate your exhaustion. Rest is not time wasted, rest is how you get your life back.

If you are in this picture, you will likely find that if you really pull through, if you truly rest, as long and boring or even scary as it may be, the other questions will probably have an intuitive answer afterwards. Not like „this is my 20-year career plan“, but „I feel like doing x this week“. And that is enough. Because you won’t need to strain to hear your needs through the fog of exhaustion anymore.

Finally, some practical information and links for when you do have the energy and inclination to tackle your job and social life. I am not saying you need to change anything if that’s not what you want to focus on. These are just some tips, in case they become relevant.

For your social life, I recommend what others have recommended before me: Pick an activity that you do with other people and stick with it long enough to become a familiar face, see also here and here (yes, meeting gay people is similar to meeting other people). If you try out new stuff, go there at least 5 or 6 times before you decide it’s not for you – of course assuming nothing bad is coming up like racist or abusive people in the group. Shop around if the first group/activity doesn’t work for you until you find something that you’d like to do permanently. Maybe you’ll gain some friends, maybe you’ll find a romantic opportunity. In any case, if it’s something fun that you like to do anyway, you will have found an outlet with a social group attached. It is absolutely not as easy right now, with Covid and all, but if nothing outdoors-y comes to mind, you could also use this time to brainstorm what sounds like fun for when things are safer again.

Of course you can also look at opportunities online, like Discord servers, online interest groups etc but I do understand if that’s just not appealing right now. I am certainly over sitting in front of a screen.

To round this up, don’t sneeze at contacts that you already have. Are there acquaintances, friends of friends, colleagues, family members who you would like to get to know better? Then go do that! Suggest a time and place to meet up and see how they react. Say yes to the potential friends.

Speaking of which...

The Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes might also be interesting. Sure, it’s a little pop culture positive thinking kinda stuff, but I did like the impulse it gave me to consider when I say no to opportunities out of anxiety or worry. It made me accept some social invitations from colleagues (… in the before times) that I would not have otherwise considered. I did not gain life-long friends, but I did learn another valuable info: That my FOMO wasn’t justified for these events ;)

It also lead me to the decision to do one new thing every month – visit a new place or try a new activity or cook a new food. If the concept sounds appealing, just think about what sounds interesting and achievable to you.

And finally, the advice blog recommendations that I’ll always have. For social life, love life, and general life planning turmoil: Captain Awkward. For everything job-related, including how to write a good cover letter or interview well and, of course, how to get out of the dreaded current job you have: Ask A Manager.

To sum it up:

1) Figure out if you even have the energy to tackle any of this right now.

2) Figure out your pillars for a satisfying life – nothing big and shiny, just … basic needs, wishes, social needs.

3) When you feel like it, pick what you want to tackle next and see where it leads you.

4) Stay flexible. This is your life and it’s okay to go where it takes you, even if it doesn’t look „cool“ or „impressive“ from the outside. All you need is to make it your own.

And if you want to, let me know how it goes some time. :)

[evienyx]

lmao seems like you're becoming an mcyt blogger too. anyway i was wondering what are your thoughts on wilbur??? like the character, i mean

I’m expanding my horizons. I’m an incredibly versatile person.

Anyway, you want my thoughts on Wilbur? Oh, I can give you my thoughts on Wilbur.

First off, I would say that, as a character, Wilbur is probably my second favorite, right behind Techno. My favorites tend to differ from the norm, largely because of the fact that I’m a writer, and I look at everything with a bit of a different lense. Even subconsciously, the first time I watch the streams, I’m analyzing the story and the characters, thinking of ways it could have been improved, and admiring what’s done well.

And, damn, Wilbur’s character is done so well.

His descent into madness was, obviously, terrifying to see, but what’s most interesting about it to me is the fact that he feels so justified throughout it. His character is consistent, and what he wants is also consistent. Wilbur stated in his conversation to Phil that he’s come back multiple times to the button, that he’s almost pressed it so many times. Just that statement, the realization of how many times he’s come close to it, despite everything he’s said to Tommy, despite the way he’s been seemingly all for the revolution now,is terrifying. It’s seemed to us for quite a while now that, through the madness, through the insanity, he does believe that L’Manburg can be taken back.

It’s at this moment, though, in the button room, that the truth slowly dawns. All this time, Wilbur did believe that they could take L’Manburg back.

And, all this time, that hasn’t mattered in the slightest to him.

Win or lose, live or die, Wilbur was going to press that button.

If we ignore the fact that the button was a Chekhov’s gun, if we fully analyze this in character, it’s absolutely groundbreaking.

Because here we see a man who once would have done anything to save L’Manburg, now doing anything to destroy it.

One of the ways Wilbur’s arc over the last few months of story (since the election) can be well-represented is, in my opinion, through observation of his relationship and interactions with Tommy.

More specifically, though, in the way that he uses his power over Tommy, what value he places on Tommy’s wellbeing, and how Tommy views him.

At the L’Manburg election, they’re thick as thieves. They’re brothers, at that point, because in this household we roll with SBI family dynamics. Tommy looks to Wilbur for guidance, and when they lose the election and Schlatt exiles them, they run together. Wilbur calls for Tommy to run, they make sure the other is safe (ignore Wilbur’s death, lmao). They leave L’Manburg together.

When they start Pogtopia, when they start thinking about how they’re going to get their country back, Wilbur tries to cheer Tommy up. He jokes with him, references Tubbox. They brainstorm together, they share ideas. They plan, and they work as equals. Wilbur has Tommy drop the ‘President.’ They’re in this together, and one of them is not above the other, anymore. Wilbur does his best to make sure that Tommy is safe, and that he is as happy as possible in the current situation, despite how dark and dreary their prospects appear to be.

Skip forward a bit, and we come to the announcement of the Manburg Festival. Now, up until this point, the dynamics have been rather consistent since the election. We’ve seen Wilbur rise up and take charge a bit more when necessary, like with Tubbo and the whole double-agent business, but ideas are shared and they treat each other with both respect and love.

When Schlatt is making the announcement, with Wilbur and Tommy looking on from above, Tommy draws back his bow to take the president out, and Wilbur stops him. Tommy listens. Had the roles been reversed, this would not have occurred, but mostly because Tommy wouldn’t have questioned Wilbur’s judgement in the first place. Tommy has complete and utter faith in Wilbur and his decisions at this point. That is the power that Wilbur holds over Tommy. Tommy trusts him. Wilbur uses this power over Tommy to ensure that the outcome of each and every decision they make is optimal, and to make sure that both of them stay safe and the rebellion stays strong. It’s a relationship of faith and trust.

Then, though, the announcement of the festival. And, mainly, the aftermath of the announcement. As they walk through the forest, for the first time, we see Wilbur question his motives. We’ve never seen this before, and neither has Tommy. Wilbur wonders if his morals are correct, or if he’s just been assuming he’s in the right. He decides to be the bad guy, and the relationship with Tommy shifts. The trust and faith that Tommy places in Wilbur is turned right back on him as Wilbur tells Tommy that he’ll never be president. Wilbur uses the relationship that he has with Tommy, uses the subconscious trust Tommy places in him, to manipulate him.

At this point, they are no longer equals. Wilbur no longer values Tommy’s input, as Tommy isn’t on his side on this issue, and Tommy doesn’t share with Wilbur anymore, as the faith is gone. Still, Tommy continues to trust Wilbur, he just doesn’t have faith in him or believe that he’s doing the right thing. Additionally, Wilbur’s care for Tommy’s wellbeing deteriorates a bit, but he still does care. Just... not as much.

The next big shift would be the day of the Manburg Festival.

What is interesting about this day is that it is the one time that Wilbur and Tommy agree on whether or not to blow up Manburg, because, as Tubbo is executed by their ally in a shower of colorful sparks, Tommy calls for Wilbur to blow the place to smithereens. Wilbur’s failure here is one of the best things for the story, but we can talk about that another time.

While the dynamics don’t shift in any notable way at the festival, what with Tommy and Wilbur showing up together, fighting and working together, they do change dramatically after the festival is over.

We can see this mainly with two events: The Pit, and Tommy, Tubbo, and Niki’s talk.

Wilbur is the one who coaxes Tommy into fighting Techno (a fight that, logically, Wilbur knew Tommy would lose). He pushed at Tommy’s emotions, manipulated him, into fighting a battle that he had no hope of winning. Any care he had for Tommy’s wellbeing is out the window at this point. He willingly sent him into the Pit to die.

Additionally, this is the first time that Tommy explains that he isn’t fighting for Wilbur anymore. He fights not for Wilbur, but for vengeance for Tubbo in the pit, and when he talks with Tubbo and Niki, it becomes clear that he no longer has faith in nor trusts Wilbur.

The next turning point comes very soon, when Wilbur is in the button room with Tommy and Quackity.

Tommy convinces Wilbur not to press the button, and Wilbur says that he’ll trust in Tommy for now, and breaks the button down as well.

The thing about this that is most important is that Wilbur is lying, and Tommy doesn’t realize that until it is far too late.

We don’t realize this until much later, but Wilbur didn’t care about what Tommy said. He explained to Phil that, despite his words to Tommy, despite what he claims about trusting Tommy’s plan, he’s still come close to pressing the button again, and again. He doesn’t trust in Tommy’s plan, and even if he does, it doesn’t matter, because Wilbur doesn’t care. He’s going to press that button regardless.

What does come from this, though, is that Tommy begins to trust Wilbur again. He feels like Wilbur cares, like Wilbur has his back. He places Wilbur back as leader, in his mind, and all of these things come to a climax on the day of the battle between Manburg and Pogtopia.

The War for L’Manburg shows the two of them relatively trusting of one another on the field, despite Wilbur’s constant jokes about being the traitor (which we later find out to be true, but that’s not what this is about). Tommy trusts Wilbur on the battlefield, and listens to what he says. They fight together.

Wilbur then places Schlatt’s life into Tommy’s hands. He gives him an incredibly difficult decision to make, plays with Schlatt’s life just to rise conflict within Tommy. It doesn’t matter in the end, but I thought it was interesting to see.

Anyway, Wilbur then places Tommy as president-elect, while Wilbur plans to go and detonate the bombs beneath the country while Tommy speaks of plans to rebuild. Then, though, Tommy calls Wilbur president again, and Wilbur renames the country before passing it off to Tubbo.

Wilbur had called Tommy up to the podium to speak, right where a large part of the bombs were placed. His intent was for Tommy to speak there while Wilbur pressed the button and blew the country sky-high, with Tommy at the center of it all.

Any care Wilbur once had for Tommy’s wellbeing is gone, and nothing makes that more apparent than his attempted appointment of Tommy to the presidency, where he would have been in the most danger as he gave a speech while standing on a minefield, facing a crowd containing a man who lived only for chaos and another who vowed to watch the country burn to the ground along with any government that may wish to form.

We can see, as well, the moment Tommy realizes what’s going to happen. We can see when he begins calling for people to find Wilbur, muttering “no” as he searches desperately, and then screaming as his worst fears are realized and his brother Wilbur blows everything that he’s ever worked for into nothing more than a crater.

Wilbur’s character development, his arc, his consistency, is incredible to watch. It’s one of the most impressive things of the entire Dream SMP story (which, honestly, isn’t much of a surprise, since Wilbur’s been directing it this whole time, anyway). There are so many more things that I could say about this, but this post is long enough, so I’m gonna end it here.

I’m always up to rambling about Dream SMP things, especially analyzing characters, plot, motivations, and the like.

I’m a nerd, sue me.

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Dincobb Week Day 3 - New Experiences (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one.

New Experiences

Cobb keeps on saying he’s been cold before, it gets bitter cold out in the desert at night, and Din has kept on telling him that yes, that’s cold, but it’s not ice and snow cold, and if he’s going to take him on a trip he needs Cobb to trust him about the appropriate clothing.

He does need thermals, he does need thick wool socks, he does need a heavy parka, wool cap and mittens.

“What about you?” Cobb asks. “You may be wearing thermals under your suit, but I don’t see a parka.”

“I’m used to making do without one,” says Din, “but I have higher standards for you.”

“Have ‘em for yourself too, then.”

“All right then. I will.”

“Just see that you do.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Din says, smiling inside his helmet.

“I’m the boss of everyone, they just don’t know it yet,” says Cobb with a cocky grin.

Boss or not, he’s got Din to wear a parka over his beskar, which he doesn’t altogether like to do. The shiny breastplate is for show as well as for function. A symbolic declaration of identity and values. Well, everyone can still see the helmet, and he compromised on cutting off the parka sleeves just above the elbow so his vambraces are free and functional. This is meant to be a pleasure trip, just to show Cobb a different world as a treat, but he’s still not about to go anywhere without ready access to his grappling hook, flamethrower and whistling birds. Safety first.

He lands the small ship he’s borrowed from Boba on a small, flat-topped hill overlooking a frozen lake, its edges frosted white and its heart a turquoise blue. In fact, if you’re generous with your aesthetics, the lake is sort of heart-shaped. He wonders if Cobb will notice and appreciate that. They lower the landing ramp and step outside into a brilliantly sunny day. The air out here is so cold and crisp it stings your face. Cobb actually gasps. Din gives him a few moments to walk to the bottom of the ramp, then slowly, carefully, extend one foot and put it down and feel the crunch and squish of the snow under his boot.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s weird!” says Cobb enthusiastically. He sees his own breath condensing on the air and huffs out another cloud of warm mist. Then, “Ow.” He puts his mittened hand to his ear.

“You forgot to take out your earring?” Din asks.

“I was excited to see the snow,” Cobb says sheepishly. “And I love it. You gave it to me.” It’s the beskar dart tip from a whistling bird and Cobb is almost comically proud of how it looks glinting in his earlobe.

“Well, it’s gonna get real cold and I don’t want you to get frostbite. Hold still,” Din says. He pulls off his gloves, gives them to Cobb to hold and carefully removes the already chilly earring. He pulls up one of the hook-and-loop flaps of Cobb’s parka pockets, tucks the earring firmly down inside, presses it closed, then pulls Cobb’s wool cap down to cover his ears properly. “There.”

“This hat is crushing my hair,” Cobb grumps.

“A Mandalorian helmet couldn’t unpretty your hair, but you think a toque will?” Din asks, pulling his gloves back on.

“Aw, Mando, you think I’m pretty?” Cobb beams at him, more radiant than the sunshine on the snow crust.

“C’mon,” Din says, embarrassed. He does think Cobb is pretty but he has too little experience of romance to be able to say it smoothly. He grabs Cobb’s hand and pulls him along, heading down the slope towards the lake. Cobb slips and flounders and laughs. He starts to lurch forward, catches himself and throws himself backward, landing on his butt and then flopping on his back with his arms outstretched. “Come on,” says Din, with a chuckle. He reaches down and pulls Cobb up to his feet, leaving his outline in the snow.

“Hey, look at that!” says Cobb, twisting to look back. “It really takes a print, doesn’t it? Not like dry sand at all. It’s so crazy that this is water.” He scoops up a mittenful and crumbles it around.

“Try squeezing it,” says Din. Cobb squashes the snow between his palms. “See how it compacts? It’ll hold together.” He’s remembering the short period his first covert spent living someplace very like this, a little compound in the snowy woods. Unlike most covert locations, it offered both secrecy and open space for children to run and play. The snow forts they built and the snowball battles they fought were both educational for warriors in the making and tremendous fun for a motley assortment of kids in hand-me-down winter clothes and soft training helmets. The snow was the first thing that brought him out of his shell to play with the others. Up to then he had been his foster father’s shadow, dumb with sorrow, until finally the sight of them running, shouting, flinging snow had sparked his attention.

Buir had seen where he was looking as Din stood beside him holding tightly a fistful of his cape. He’d looked down at Din, his helmet impassive, nothing like his lost parents’ dark, expressive eyes and smiling, talking mouths. But there was something kind in the tilt of his head, and he gently jerked it in the direction of the romping foundlings. Buir barely spoke because his larynx had been crushed in a fight years before. Rather than speaking through the mic in his helmet, he would hold a little electrolarynx device to his throat when he really needed to speak aloud, but more often than not he used a modified sign language, finding it more convenient. That was what he told Din back then, but thinking on it now, he’s fairly sure Buir switched to relying on signing because the electrolarynx made him sound a lot like a droid, and he saw how uncomfortable that made the child he’d picked up. He didn’t need to say “Go on”; Din understood, and after hesitating a moment longer, he released his grip on the crumpled fabric and ventured out to play.

That was the day he learned to make snowballs, and it’s something he can teach Cobb now, how to press and mould the snow between cupped palms, how to roll it down the slope, picking up more and more snow as it went, turning it between the two of them to keep its shape even and rounded. It makes them both laugh just out of happiness and satisfaction. Cobb’s cheeks and nose are flushed a sweet rosy pink. His eyes are bright, their hazel colour almost gold where the sharp sunlight catches it, and he’s altogether so lovely a sight that Din is glad his face is hidden and he can stare as openly and foolishly as he wants.

Together they build a snowman where the ground flattens out; he gets an idea and labours back up the hill in the sliding snow into the ship’s hold and brings back a bucket to mould its head into a snow Mandalorian. After that success they make their way down to the lake, and after Din checks how solid the ice is, they venture out on its surface, skidding around a little. Cobb keeps grabbing hold of his hand, and although it actually makes both of them a bit less stable, Din’s happy to let him. When Din asks, “You want to try sliding?” he’s immediately game. They run and slide on foot, on knees, and on a few accidental occasions on their asses until they’re out of breath and glowing with warmth. It occurs to Din that apart from a little light Grogu-entertaining, he hasn’t really played in years. He still knows how, though. Panting and laughing, they stagger off the ice and begin making their way back up the hill, wallowing in the knee-deep snow, helping each other up by reaching down from above or by pushing from below (hands on butts). At the top they look back at their chaotic trail across the formerly perfect snowscape.

“What do you think of it now?” Din asks.

“It’s fantastic,” says Cobb. “I couldn’t have imagined what it’s really like. And there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you.” He throws his arms around Din and, to his surprise, kisses him smack-dab on the cheek of his helmet. He can’t feel it, of course, but he enjoys it symbolically, at least for a few moments until it becomes clear that Cobb’s lips are stuck to the frosty metal. He tries to pull away, gives a little muffled cry of panic and pain, and stares helplessly through the eyeslot of Din’s visor. “Hnnh!”

“Dank farrik — it’s okay, hold still. Just — okay, put your hands on the helmet, hold it, take the weight. Got it? Don’t let go or it’ll peel your lips.” He steadies it with his hands too and brings his head and shoulders down, pulling his head out of the helmet. He’s dazzled by the unfiltered bright light for a moment, then gets a proper look at Cobb, scarlet-faced and glaring with anger, confusion and embarrassment, still smooching the helmet. He has to bite his own lip hard not to laugh, but it’s not really funny, he doesn’t want Cobb to get frostbite or tear the skin off his lips. “Stay there,” he says, turns and runs up the ramp into the ship. In the tiny, cramped galley he draws a cup of lukewarm water from the tap, then rushes back, trying not to spill it. “Okay. It’s okay, just hold very still for me, got it?” Carefully, he pours water over the join between lip and metal, while Cobb breathes loud and fast through his nose. After a few moments the icy seal breaks and Cobb is able to gently, carefully peel his lips away from the helmet. They’re very red and they look like they’re sore and stinging. “You don’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere,” Din says hopefully.

Cobb cautiously runs his tongue-tip over his lips and winces. “No, but they feel raw,” he says. “Goddamn that was cold!”

“I think you’ll survive,” Din says.

“Well, sure, I’ll survive,” says Cobb. “But could you kiss ‘em better?”

It seems only fair.

[twinkleallnight]

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Leo x Madeleine

Word count: 885

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry. 

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of death. 

Prompt: Features wackydrabbles prompt 74  in bold. 

Blessed to have a friend in @yourmajesty09. It's so soothing to hear her baby voice giving amazing mature suggestions while brainstorming. Thank you @txemrn for pre reading.

Remember Me...

“Are you sure, we should talk to her Riley?” Liam asked his loving wife, again, while getting ready for his meeting. 

Riley adjusted his tie and moved her fingers through his sideburns that were turning white. “Liam, we have tried all the other ways. You care for him a lot. Give it a try.”

“But what about Madeleine? My brother left her and then I did the same. She has lived a solitary life since then. I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“She is stronger than what you think. I have spent a long time with her by my side, since I took up my role as your queen.”

Liam let out a sigh. Riley hugged him; her warmth filling him in with reassurance. Her words fell softly on his ears, “We will pull him back. She will help us. Don’t you worry, dear.”

They both walked out of their chambers with ever smiling faces. The staff greeting them on their way to the private meeting room was unaware of the restlessness behind their king’s calm eyes.

_--_--_--_--_

Madeleine looked at the old wall clock in the study. It had been twenty-six long years. Twenty-six years of loyal service to the crown. Twenty six years of being ten minutes ahead of time for all the royal meetings.

 A diary sat on the table in front of her. It's leather cover had the royal crest embossed in gold on the upper half. Madeleine's perfectly manicured fingers were making circles on the smaller insignia of the duchy of Fydelia below the royal crest. She gathered her thoughts and opened the diary to quickly glance through the day’s events logged in. She closed it delicately after flipping the important pages. 

Madeleine rose straightening her dress and setting her grey short curls back. She stepped up in her flat shoes; heels were a thing in the past. Her legs were not as nimble in heels as they used to be.  She counted the ticking of the clock and thought, ‘It's time.’

The doors opened as the royal couple walked in. Madeleine did not expect Riley for the meeting but knew better to keep her reactions covered behind her bright red smile. 

“Your majesties!”

“How are you this morning, Madeleine?” Riley perked up. 

“Very well, thank you.”

They took their seats and it struck Madeleine that, oddly, Riley sat beside her instead of taking a seat across the table, next to her husband.

“What’s wrong?” her gaze shifted between Liam and Riley. 

“Madeleine…” Liam faltered as Riley gave him an encouraging look. “ We need your assistance in a matter.” He looked back at Riley for help.

Riley closed her eyes for a moment before she spoke with conviction. “Maddie, I am going to keep it short, straight and direct.” She took another deep breath and continued. “He is here.” 

“What? Who?...” Madeleine stared at both of them for a minute as realization dawned upon her. 

Memories of yester years came lashing back at her. Her handsome hero in his royal regalia, towered in front of her slender stature. Her hands proudly moving over his sapphire sash, had felt his strong frame. He had lifted her chin and she had raised her eyelids to get lost into his ocean blue eyes. When their lips touched for her first kiss, her fingers had nested in his sandy blonde hair. Her naïve response had made him chuckle. "Mad, Maddie!”

“Maddie..” Riley’s soft call brought her back. “Say something.”

Madeleine focused, “What do you want me to say?”

Liam cleared his throat. “Madeleine, seven months ago his wife, Katie, passed away and since then he has not been himself.”

Madeleine said with a bite, “He never came back to Cordonia. Why now? After all these years?”

“His daughter is pregnant and couldn’t manage him. That’s when she reached out to us. He is devastated. He keeps speaking to himself and blabbers nonsense.” Liam tried to explain.

Riley placed her hand on Madeleine’s and held her numbed fingers. “Maddie, Liam tried. We didn’t want to involve you. But you know these Rhys men, it’s not easy to make them open up. Maybe, you can help us… somehow.” 

Madeleine blinked to keep her tears at bay. “I have few meetings lined up. I will get back to you.” 

Liam interrupted, “I have cleared your day. I understand it’s a lot. If only we knew of other options, we would not have asked you for this.”

Madeleine nodded and got up holding  her diary close to her heart. She contained her inner turmoil and bowed away. Liam and Riley watched her receding figure with silent thoughts.  

 Madeleine walked swiftly to her chambers.Once behind the doors, her steps became heavy. She trudged across the room to her dressing table. She stared blankly into the mirror. Her hand moved over her cheek. Her fingers paused around the wrinkles forming around her eyes. She had hidden the stressful lines of her lonely life behind her makeup.

She slumped down on her couch, her diary still clutched in her other hand. She placed it on her lap and slowly opened it. Her eyes settled gloomingly at the inbuilt folder. She pulled out an old polaroid photograph from it. A pair of blue eyes stared back at her while a tear painfully rolled down her cheek. “Ohh Leo...!” she sighed. 

Part 2 here

Tags: specially for my Leo friends: @queenrileyrose @choiceskatie @leelee10898

And queen Madeleine: @speedyoperarascalparty

And the regular tags:

@ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @kingliam2019 @lifeaskim @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @secretaryunpaid @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09

[sugarcomatosed]

i love your stories so much!! and was wondering if you can give some writing tips perhaps? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Breaking this up into sections for you + putting it under a cut cause I went overboard. 😅

General Writing Tips

These work for both academic and creative writing.

Make an outline.

It doesn't have to be a formal one, but having at least a general idea of the scenes you want to include is helpful. If I know my fic is going to be a longer one (like Don't Hesitate was and my current WIP is), I break down the larger story beats i want to hit on a piece of paper or my iPad.

It's good to know what you're planning to do, in a any piece I usually have a single specific scene I want to do and depending on what it is, I might either just do the scene I want to or turn into something longer.

Draft, draft, draft.

I cannot stress the importance of going through and reviewing your work. This is a big part of any sort of writing.

Your first idea isn't always your best idea. As you work on a piece you might find your original idea is holding you back, focus shifts! Don't be afraid to let your work change as you go. It's not always easy to let go of your original idea but if you find it's not working, you have to let it change. Sections will need to be rewritten, things have to be readjusted to fit with later sections. Reread for clarity while you're drafting and look to see if this makes sense to you, or reads well to you. If you can't follow it and you wrote it, chances are your reader can't either. Did you use the same phrase again and again? Find and search it on your doc to double check.

Sometimes you have to cut things you really like because they just don't contribute to the fic anymore. Save those bits and use them somewhere else!In a lot of my longer pieces I will write a paragraph, realize that's not where it should go and cut/paste it into another part of the doc because the pacing/scene doesn't make sense where I had it originally, but it works somewhere else.

If you're stuck, skip around, come back and then stitch the bits you have written together.

Don't Focus on a Word Count

This might be controversial, but I'm of the opinion just because something is longer does not make it better. Some works are short, and that's okay! I very rarely try to aim for a specific count of words unless it's for a prompt exchange or a personal challenge. I write till I feel the piece is done. Some stories require more words, some require less.

Don't Hesitate is a great example of this again, because all I wanted to do was a bittersweet first kiss fic, but jumping write into the kiss wouldn't get the full effect I wanted. Meanwhile, with Old Habits all I wanted to do was write dumb comedic kisses, we didn't need a 2k preamble.

Get Someone You Trust to Edit

My go to editor for the past six years or so is one of my good friends. She has edited everything from college papers to my fics for me before I post them to read for clarity, find any funky phrases or misspelled words I missed, and I do the same for her when she asks! A fresh set of eyes makes a world of a difference. Find someone to trade fics with or ask a friend! They might have good suggestions you never thought of, or be able to tell what you were going for when you don't even know yourself.

I also rely on my friends a lot to brainstorm and talk my ideas out before I start because it helps me think and figure out what I need. It's super common for me to text someone and say "im gonna spitball at you, that okay?" and then spend twenty minutes chatting through my ideas.

Have Reference Material

For my 13sar fics, I regularly go back and review/screenshot videos of the dialogue to make sure I am staying consistent with story events, character nuance and small details. You don't have to go crazy, but it is really helpful to have your source material to go back to and check yourself against. In non creative writing I always had a pile of papers highlighted with my own notes on the margins.

Take Breaks/Pace Yourself

Know your own limits, and if you are working and working on something and it's not coming out leave it alone and come back to it. I'm really bad at this personally because when I get an idea in my head I want to see it through but sometimes you gotta step back! It's not healthy to keep working on things and overwork yourself. Stretch, get up go for a walk.

Write What You Want to Write

Don't focus on what people want to read. Focus on what you like. Find a topic, a scene, anything that you are passionate about and the rest will follow. The only time I write fic for other people is when I am writing for a friend. Even prompt requests I only take open ended ones, if I am not interested in writing it it's not gonna happen. I know it's super hard and I get really anxious sometimes about letting people down now, or worrying people won't like something but then I step back and remind myself this is a hobby and I'm doing it for fun.

Play to Your Strengths

You shouldn't try to write like me, you should try to write like yourself. Find what skills you have and use them to your advantage!

I can't give you a step by step list to write like me, because nobody in the world has my background! We're all unique. Everything I've listed so far I know because I'm not a beginner anymore! I'm in my twenties and have come from a strong academic writing background.

I took on an intensive course load in high school, and then went onto college for a sociology degree. I very rarely had test based finals and at the end of each semester would have five 10-15 page papers to submit. Straight up some of my skills come from having read and studied the works of anthropologist Clifford Geertz. I am not saying you should read anthropology/sociology texts. Unless you like that sort of thing lol

I also have 6+ years of theater experience (acting & directing), I use this all the time for my writing. When I think about a scene, I think about how I would work through it as an actor, how the character would move, and how would things read to an audience. The GOTE ("Goal, Obstacle, Tactics, and Expectation") method of acting by Robert Cohen is really useful hear if you want a more technical breakdown of what I mean by that.

This leads to a lot of what we called "business" in acting, doing small tiny things while you talk or move around on stage to give the sense you're a real human. I don't have to think or try on these sort of things because they're in my skill set already!

Things I do Personally

As in, these are not transferable skills this is just the stuff I do while working on projects.

Find a Vibe™️

I come into any fic with usually a goal I want to hit, a line of dialogue or something I want to capture. Just like, the general idea of a feeling a song even if the lyrics don't match up. Make a mood-board, a playlist, just find something you wanna do. It's less about the actual words on the page and what you're aiming to do.

Look to things that inspire you

Don't Hesitate got written because I wanted to write a fic that captured the same vibe as a scene in Macross Frontier, where two characters have a bittersweet kiss before the final battle and that scene still has me fucked up six years after watching it.

My current WIP is doing the same thing but with the song All I've Ever Known from Hadestown. Two characters working through loneliness, the sudden feeling of falling in love and the frustration that feeling can bring on sometime.

I don't plagiarize them word for word, but these are scenes that inspire me! I also patchwork quilt ideas together. Using Don't Hesitate again, I also ended up pulling from a bunch of shoujo anime, Toradora, Sailor Moon, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Tutu...specific scenes I enjoy to blend and create something new.

Goof Off While You Write

I name my documents stupid things, I write dumb placeholder dialogue or vague sentiments like "insert better word here", I make memes when I'm struggling and roast myself and my predictable tastes.

I spent twenty minutes texting a friend Juro's name with different letters spelt out and then the "fuck your chickenstrips" vine saying it was Juro during destruction. Just have fun with it!

Listen to J-POP On Loop for Hours at a Time

i am not kidding I do this all the time. Perfume, AKB48, anime idol osts, Sailor Moon's OPs/ED, vocaloid songs. I like technopop and Japanese is good because it usually doesn't distract my brain since I only know random phrases, but still know what the meaning og the song is.

I love music, it helps me vibe out.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work ;o;

I hope this is useful to you in some way! I'm so sorry it's so long winded but I am overly thorough and love to teach people ;w;

[runenc03]

Til the light goes out (and after) - part 2

Writing date: January or February 2021, I can’t remember

Genre: fluff! I figured we deserved that after the insecurity of part 1

Warnings: I guess a make out session? Should I warn for that? I think I should warn you that this is my ‘steamiest content’ (for now) and that is saying very laying because I’m too shy to write steamy stuff, even if i want to try to write it.

Word count: 2.7k words:

-----------------------------------------------------

You didn't mean to stare, you really didn't, but your afternoon performance was about to start and you knew that when he wanted to be alone, he always went to the equipment room to play music and order his thoughts, so you came to tell him that he was needed to discuss the latest details before the performance. Standing there, just about to announce your presence, something had stopped you. You watched as he sat there, crossed legged on an old sofa, flute in his hands, his knight armor clearly making it difficult for him to raise his arms to the right angle to be able to play. It almost made you giggle, he had always hated that costume. His eyes studied the sheet in front of him, memorising the last few little notes before playing it during the performance. You loved to watch him when he was like this, so fully himself, so unguarded. 

"Hi. Is it time?" 

He looked almost sad, and you knew that while he loved playing for people, he wasn't ready to leave his secluded spot yet. You decided extending his time a little wouldn't hurt anyone. 

"No, we still have a few more minutes. What part are you playing?" 

His mouth formed a smile, and he patted the space beside him on the sofa as an invitation. You giggled as the clattering of his armor costume disturbed the silence. You seated yourself on the sofa, briefly wondering if the old thing could even carry two bodies, and then threw your legs over his crossed ones, creating a mess of intertwined limbs. Then, you kissed his cheek - you couldn't help yourself, really - and enjoyed watching the blush spread over the place you had just placed your lips on. 

"After all this time together, I still get you flustered with a kiss on your cheek, without anyone near us?" 

He now fully turned his attention to you, carefully placing his flute on its holder next to the sofa, a grin growing on his face. 

"I can't help it and you know it. Besides, you wouldn't have it any other way." 

You had to agree with that. As much as you loved how other couples go all out on public displays of affection, you weren't sure you'd like that so much. 

"Touché. Now kiss me, we need to leave in literally 3 minutes." 

You saw his grin broaden, until he was so close that his lips were out of your sight. Not that you minded. Closing your eyes, you felt his smile, and that was your favourite way to experience it anyway. His arm slid around your waist, lightly pulling you closer to him, and your legs decided on their own to untangle from his and just entirely sit on his lap instead. As he felt you snuggle close to him, he hummed in appreciation, and you smiled at the rich sound of it. You continued to share kiss after kiss, the fingers on one of your hands weaving themselves through his hair, while the other slid under his armor, lightly scratching his back. You knew he loved it, and while you still questioned as to why that was, you really didn't mind doing it. After all, he did wonderful things to you as well. 

"I love you. So so much, you know that, right?" 

You often questioned if other people smiled as much while making out as you did. It was automatic, as opposed to him being so shy in public, he had the habit to mumble all sorts of little things to you while the two of you were alone, and it made it impossible not to smile. He made you so, so happy. You questioned if other couples felt as much love as you did, too. You answered him by covering his jaw in kisses, going from right under his ear to his chin, somewhere in the back of your mind noting that it was still scratchy, and realising that he probably hadn't had the time to shave this morning because you had texted him at 5 am to ask if you could go watch the sunrise together, something he had obviously agreed to, being the incredibly kind human being he was. 

"I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you." 

Now it was his time to smile, the effect of your words alternating with your kisses, and your heart warmed a little bit more. Oh, how you loved him. Saying it just wasn't enough. He tilted your head then, gentle as always, and you gladly went once again from kissing his jaw to kissing his lips. You shuffled even closer, deepening the kiss, shifting your hand on his back to his chest, lazily drawing circles there, feeling his warm flesh against your cold hands. He didn't flinch, he never did. He had somehow made you believe in the beauty of your touch, and, in a strange way, because of it, in the beauty of yourself. His fingers now wove themselves through your hair as well, angling your face just a bit differently once again.  His other hand went to your upper leg, drawing circles just like you were doing on his chest, so in sync with each other. His lips were warm against yours, but not in a scorching way. You felt welcome, at home. 

"Hey, uh, you know I would say sorry for interrupting, but I'm really not that sorry. You have all the time in the world after the show, lovebirds, but for now, you need to come with me." 

Your boyfriend's groan would've amused you if you, too, hadn't been so hopelessly embarrassed. Ruby - now Ava - had come to get you, and while you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to walk in on you, you knew the smugness wouldn't leave her voice anytime soon. She did leave the two of you behind then, also understanding that embarrassing you any further wouldn't do right before the show, and you smiled at her thoughtfulness. 

"Come on, she was right, we need to get up. From now on, you're the unnamed music guy again, and I am princess Rose." 

You carefully pulled yourself away from him, careful not to knock anything over, especially not his precious flute, and straightened your dress once again, making sure there weren't any creaks in it. 

"I would call you my princess, but I guess you'd find that a bit too cheesy, wouldn't you?" 

Your laughter filled the room, and you took his hand, standing on your tiptoes one last time to give his cheek a kiss. 

"You know me so well. Now come on, unnamed music guy, it's time for us to make some magic." 

Flute in hand, he gladly followed you. _______________________________________

"Hey, love, I forgot my pocket sized sheet music in the office, can you go get it please? I still need to ask Ava about the music in the third scene."

You nodded, turning around on your heels and quickly jogging to the office, the room in which you all had brainstorm sessions about your shows. It wasn't unusual for your boyfriend to forget his stuff, and you knew that he and Ava were the two most musically talented people in your crew and they liked to make sure they both agreed with whatever music was played, so you weren't suspicious of the situation. That was, until you reached the office, and your feet stopped moving upon laying your eyes on the person that was already seated at your round table, smiling politely as she saw you enter. It was none other than Erica Rodriguez, billionaire, media figure, and basically the owner of the entire movie industry. 

"Hello there. I see that you found your way to me. Take a seat please." 

Your limbs felt like cooked pasta, your face heating up at her words, and an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. What in God's name was going on? After being looked at expectantly for at least a few seconds, you broke out of your reverie, stumbling over your own feet, but into the chair opposite of Mrs. Rodriguez. 

"Excuse me ma'am, but we're about to play the afternoon show in the northern region of the park, and I'm expected to be-" 

"Don't worry, everything is taken care of. One of the women of your group with a very unimportant role in this play is taking over your character for the afternoon, so everyone is notified that you won't join your crew today. In fact, this was their idea, they personally invited me. And I must say, I'm pleased I responded." 

Your cluelessness was probably very evident on your face, Mrs. Rodriguez's polite expression morphing into a genuine, but amused smile as she pushed a piece of paper in your direction that you hadn't noticed before. 

"A few weeks ago, your friends contacted me, to tell me about this amazingly talented girl in their crew. About a year ago, that girl started allowing the crew to play her own written stories, and she even grew as far as to play the lead role in some of them. They told me that even though she'd always been a good writer, she'd also grown enormously over the last few months, and that the show they were about to play next was the best story she'd ever written, and that I should come take a look." 

"So...so you came to look at my play?" 

Your throat felt dry, your head foggy with all the unexpected information. Mrs. Rodriguez nodded enthusiastically, and the uneasy feeling inside your stomach swirled, although at this point, you weren't too sure it was uneasiness that was going on in there. 

"Yes, yes I did. I took my daughter with me, and together we watched your show this morning. I'm glad you didn't notice me, I wouldn't have been able to judge properly if you had, but it needs to be said, you have an extraordinary gift." 

The blush covered your cheeks before her words had any chance to cool off. You looked down, playing with the hem of your princess dress, somewhere in the back of your head noting that you must look utterly ridiculous. 

"Thank you, that's really kind, but it's not just me. I wrote the story, but my friends, the crew, they're the ones bringing the story to life, making the magic." 

Her smile morphed into a knowing grin. 

"Which is exactly the reason that, if you agree to make your play into a movie with my help, I would love for your entire crew to continue to play the roles they play now. I've been looking for something like this for a long time now, something with some classic elements, but with a creative twist. Something kids get excited about, but adults just as much. Something magical, really, and I found it here. Now, it wouldn't be fair for me to pressure you into saying yes immediately, your friends told me that this place is practically sacred for you. Just know that I would treat your story with the utmost care and respect, that making it into a movie wouldn't take away the magic, it would just capture it for eternity." 

Your next words were out before you knew it, your heart making little skips. This was huge, and you were surprised you realised that so soon, but in this moment, everything was crystal-clear to you. 

"I don't need time, ma'am. I've seen all the movies made under your care, and they're all astoundingly beautiful. I'd be honoured to make my play into a movie. Thank you so much." 

Your vision blurred by unshed tears, your smile had barely ever been this wide. You were flying, soaring, wanted to laugh, jump, dance, cry, sing with joy. You also realised that you wanted to share this with the rest of your crew. 

"You can keep this copy of the contract, it was a bit ceremonial anyway, I'll send you a copy by mail soon, is that okay?" 

You nodded quickly, standing up to shake her hand as she took her coat and her briefcase, once again congratulating you before walking out the door of the office room, leaving you with the most overwhelming wave of gratitude you'd ever felt in your life. _______________________________________

This time around, you found your boyfriend between the park's castle and the 'magic woods', not too far away from where the crowd was still gathered after the play. He was cleaning his flute, silently checking every inch to see if it hadn't been damaged somewhere during the play. It was a ritual for him, and while you'd normally let him have it, you were way too excited now to not engulf him in a hug right this second. 

"Woah....what happened?" 

But there was a certain edge to the tone of his voice, and you knew that he was perfectly aware of everything that had happened to you these past half an hour. 

"Oh, shut up. Was it your idea? Honestly I can't thank all of you enough." 

He chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, and your arms automatically squeezed him a bit tighter. 

"Actually, it was Ava's, but I helped actually reaching out to Mrs. Rodriguez. We all did, to be honest." 

You wanted to kiss him then and there, engulfed in sunlight, while the excited chatter of visitors could still be heard from not too far away, when a certain little girl's voice broke the moment. 

"Princess Rose! Why are you hugging this man? And where is your husband? Do you not love him anymore? But you kissed this morning!?" 

You hadn't ever turned around as quickly as you did now, horrified that one of the little ones had caught you full on wrapped around what for them was just another character in the play. But your blood actually turned cold when you saw which little girl stumbled upon you. 

"Mummy, look! I found Princess Rose! But she's hugging someone other than Prince Carl!" 

And there she was, Mrs. Rodriguez. You relaxed a bit when you realised that she wasn't as horrified as you were, but only slightly. You could only stand there, wide-eyed, for once not knowing what to say. Fortunately, your ever shy boyfriend decided that this was the perfect moment to speak up. 

"Hi there! How are you?" 

The girl's mouth curved into a cute smile, regardless of the situation charmed that someone in a knight costume was talking to her. She nodded her head, but also leaned against her mum, trying to make herself a bit more comfortable. Your boyfriend, meanwhile, made a ridiculously deep bow for Mrs Rodriguez' daughter. You stifled your laughter. 

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Knight Ronald, and I am Princess Rose's favourite brother." 

The little girl's eyes widened, an excited look on her face. 

"Are you? I don't have a brother, although I would love to have one! Then I could dress up as a princess and play princess Rose! And then my brother could play you and we could go on adventures together! I-" 

But Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped her daughter's rambling, the biggest grin on her face. Your face probably mirrored hers. 

"Okay sweetie, I think it's time you and I go home. Say bye to Princess Rose and Knight Ronald, and then we need to leave, okay?" 

The girl ran forward, wrapping her small arms around your waist, as that was the highest she could reach. You hugged her back, mouthing a thank you to your boyfriend, and a sorry to Mrs Rodriguez, who gave you a reassuring wave in return. After the two of them had left, you concentrated all your attention on the wonderful guy next to you again. This time, you checked your surroundings before wrapping your arms around his neck, groaning slightly as you realised just how close you'd come to completely ruining both the little girl's and your own day. 

"Please don’t ever say that you're my brother again" 

He chuckled, but rubbed your head in a comforting manner anyway. 

"I won’t.” 

And he sealed his promise with a kiss worthy of being reciprocated by a true princess.