#they are very fun though I'm looking forward to drawing most of them

[omaano]

If you're still taking requests on the polyam drawing thing, D2 with Padme/Rex/Anakin?? (with Rex in the middle getting smoochies 😚🙏💖)

If you're not, then just thank you for sharing I'm enjoying seeing the cute poly/platonic art! 😊

Changed to E3 for a pose, and I’d turned it super self indulgent (pretty purple background for me yay!☺️) I hope you will like it too! Thanks for asking!💕

I really like this look for Padme (mostly because of her beautiful hair), and I also wanted to deck Rex out in something pretty too. It’s a nice pink tinted dream :3

Polyam/platonic poses for these sketches

[ssahotchnerr]

Could you write something where someone compliments Hotch for "babysitting" and "helping out" when hes out with his kids and he gets all 😑😑 do you mean parenting my children?

standard parenting

omg LOL cw; dad!aaron, reader is referred to as mom, a ton of domestic fluff, very light suggestiveness (hehe reader and aaron are soo in love <3) wc; 1.2k

"Jack." Aaron moved forward, spotting his son as he climbed up a curved ladder, at the ready if he were to suddenly slip. "Careful."

"I am." He took the last, big step, his hands gripping the supporting bars and landing on the platform safely. "I've done this two times already Dad."

"Help your sister down the slide, okay? I'll meet the two of you at the bottom."

"Okay." He confirmed, beelining down a rattly bridge in the direction of Ellie.

It was approximately 3 pm on a Tuesday, the park filled with the afternoon rush of children freshly out of school. A doctor's appointment had brought Aaron out of the BAU early, and after picking up Jack from school, Ellie from preschool, he figured there was no better way to burn off energy than the playground.

Hopefully it allowed for a quiet, relaxing night at home, with both kids in bed at a decent time.

Aaron stood at the bottom of the slide, peering upwards and squinting - he had regretfully left his sunglasses in the car. Ellie stood at the top, looking a bit lost once her turn was next, the slide intimidatingly large for a newly four-year-old.

"Jack's coming, honey."

It took some convincing; Aaron reassuring her he was right there, there to catch her if she overshot into the mulch. Jack would be right behind her. Further hesitation on her end: Do you want Jack to go first? No. Are you sure you want to go down? Yes.

Finally down came Ellie, giggling profusely and not paying a mind to the static the slide caused (Aaron mentally winced at the sound). Jack followed soon after.

"See, there you go." Aaron praised, hands moving to his hips.

"Again, please please please." Ellie whined gently, looking up at Aaron with her identically adjacent brown eyes. It was something she was beginning to master, the puppy dog look that could cause him to cave within seconds.

He was in for it.

"Sure pumpkin." Aaron grinned down at his little piggy-tail headed daughter. "Just a few more times though, Mom's waiting at home."

"C'mon Ellie. I'll race you." Jack suggested, kicking up dirt as he bolted off without waiting for a distinct answer. She ran after him, as fast as her small legs could carry her.

Aaron called out after him, "The stairs, Jack."

"I know!"

"Cute kids."

A mother - Aaron inferred - commented, falling alongside him. Aaron's eyes continued to track the two of them, ensuring they remained together and stayed far away from any arched ladders. They dashed up the stairs, into the depths of the play structure.

Aaron offered her a friendly smile in return, "Thank you."

"It's nice to see someone so attentive for a change." She huffed, notably an impressed breath. "Most babysitters just sit on the bench on their cell phone."

Aaron's expression dropped; a mix of confusion and dumbfound, his smile gradually fading. The only thing going through his mind: I'm sorry, what?

"Well, I'm not like most babysitters." He frowned, pressing his lips together and eyebrows drawing into a line.

"Good for you." She commended, not taking the hint. A child called out to her, causing her to move forward. "See ya."

She left, but scowl on his face stayed.

It hadn't put him in a bad mood, but rather, a dulled mood. The inference could've been an honest mistake, it most likely was, but it settled funny within him.

Only at Ellie's, 'Daddy look!' did his face brighten up. For them.

-

"Hi Momma!" Ellie bounded into the kitchen, nearly crashing into you and smiling from ear to ear. "We're home!"

Jack added to her status report, voices intertwining. "Dad took us to the park!"

"It looks like you two had fun." You grinned, using the pad of your thumb to swipe away an unblended bout of sunscreen on the side of Jack's nose. You also took note of his grass stained sweats, and the dirt scuff on Ellie's knees.

"We did! Jackers helped me down the slide and Daddy pushed me on the swings-"

"No one pushed me on the swings." Aaron commented, his hand finding the small of your back momentarily as he brushed past.

"That's 'cause you're big." Ellie made a face at her father.

"Can we go again on Saturday?" Jack asked, "I wanna bring my soccer ball."

"We'll have to see what we're up to, bud," Aaron answered, also fetching him a cup of cold water. The car ride consisted of Jack stating how thirsty he was, and how he refused to drink the lukewarm water his bottle held. "But I don't see why not."

Meanwhile, Ellie plopped herself onto the floor, pulling off her shoes and dumping the remnants of lingering mulch onto the floor.

"Hey hey hey let's not do that." You said, your nose scrunching lightly too; the normal kid-stink that followed after an afternoon spent in the sun. "And baths, both of you. Go on, I'll be there in a second."

Ellie's voice carried as she ventured up, something along the lines of bringing her mermaid Barbie in the tub with her. You ruffled Jack's hair gently as he passed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.

"You know what someone said to me today?" Aaron asked, turning towards the sink to wash his hands.

"Aren't you forgetting something first?"

He stopped, a knowing smile forming on his face. "How dare I."

Aaron moved forward, hands finding your waist to pull you near, placing his lips onto yours for a few seconds. Albeit how short it was, you savored it; coming home after a long, long day.

Satisfied, "Enlighten me."

He paused to actually wash his hands, flicking the water droplets off once he finished. You tossed him the hand towel that happened to be nearby.

"Someone mistook me for a babysitter."

"What?" You snorted out a laugh.

"Left me speechless." He exasperatedly rolled his eyes, wiping his hands and throwing the towel back onto the counter. "Can you believe that?"

"Well, you know how some people can be." You shrugged. Your statement wasn't much help, but what could you do.

"Oblivious?"

"What prompted it?"

"Standard parenting. I was simply keeping a close eye. The slide made Ellie nervous, Jack was being a bit adventurous today, and the playground itself was a nightmare. Everyone had the same idea I did, it was packed."

You hummed in response, dumping the neglected water from Jack and Ellie's water bottles out. Aaron continued to ramble on.

"And she saw the two of them. Jack - he resembles Haley a bit more, sure. But Ellie?"

"Your twin."

"Exactly." Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Babysitter. How in the world does that title come to mind before Dad?"

He shook his head as his eyes found the ceiling; utter disbelief.

"You know," you raised an eyebrow, regaining his focus, "you're hot when you're fired up."

"Am I?" Aaron smirked, pulling you in again just as he did before, arm winding behind your back.

"Mom!"

A whine drifted from upstairs, Aaron pulled away from your lips with a comically heavy, defeated sigh.

You shoved him at the chest playfully, grabbing a laugh from him, heading upstairs.

"She, huh." You teased, "Are you sure it wasn't some strategically formed ploy in hopes you were unmarried? Wouldn't be the first time."

He trudged up the stairs behind you, a chuckle shaking through his chest. "I doubt it. She seemed genuine."

"And you would know." You quipped, ends of your mouth turned upwards.

"With my profiling expertise?" He bantered back, playfully patting your behind as you reached the second level. "I'd hope so."

[llamagoddessofficial]

I'm on my knees for any more crumbs with prison AU therapist Mc and Sans 🙏 the more equal(?) dynamic is just so good And to the anon that brought it up—I love you

I'll do you one better. Here's some crumbs for ALL of them

Since she's not a nurse, this Mc doesn't have a very strong stomach. Stories of Skull's crimes sometimes make her physically ill.

Generally, Sans and Mc's 'sessions' can be quite pleasant. They talk about current events, how things are going. It's only once she starts trying to explore his feelings that he starts toying with her.

... Red teases her a lot. She tries not to react to it, it's unprofessional, but he can always tell when he's flustering her. He gets this infuriating smug grin.

Since Red is a high risk prisoner, he has to have one hand cuffed to a table during therapy. He often complains that he wishes he could be cuffed alone in a room with her in different circumstances. What Mc doesn't realise is that, considering his strength, the cuffs are basically for decoration- Red just pretends he can't break out of them so she feels more comfortable alone in a room with a massive skeleton monster who openly displays interest in her.

Sans doesn't require cuffs in his sessions. And the only time he was cuffed, he snapped them 'accidentally' to make a point. It just makes it all the more nervewracking for Mc.

Skull doesn't know she's his therapist. He thinks she just really cares about him. That's why she keeps coming back to see him, right?

Red isn't the only flirt. Sans is a lot more forward in this AU, considering she knows the truth about his nature. Granted, Sans being 'clear' about something is still incredibly cryptic, but he enjoys the shock in her eyes whenever he calmly flirts with her.

Red's flirting is warm, sincere, and never crosses the line... it leaves her flushed and (though she'd never admit it) flattered. Sans' flirting is nervewracking. It makes her feel like she's a mouse, and Sans is a cat playfully batting at her, capable of clawing her to death at any moment.

Skull gains bits and pieces of speech back a lot faster with her. Unfortunately, that means he's learning how to terrify the guards. It used to be that Skull would just scream or snarl, but now he likes to say broken ominous sentences to guards he doesn't like to see them shit their pants.

He's also figured out that, when he's really upset and angry, if he screams her name enough someone will send her. It's not a great lesson to learn... but it's better than him deciding to attack people.

Whenever Mc tries to get Skull to do therapeutic art with her, he just draws the same thing over and over. The art is scribbly thanks to his tremor, but it always looks like three people; a tall skeleton, a shorter skeleton, and a human. He draws them in various positions- standing together, sitting around a table, sitting on a couch. She suspects one skeleton is him and the human could be her, but she doesn't know who the tall skeleton is.

(It's him, her, and Papyrus. His family)

Sans, for all his power and control, gets ratty and jealous when she treats other people. The first time he hears her laugh is when she realises that was why he's being moody.

She'd never seen him so delighted before.

Sans likes when she dodges his conversational traps. He'll try to lure her into talking about herself, revealing information to him, but she won't fall for it and always turns it back on him. There's not much he's been able to glean from her. It's always so fun, to play with someone who knows what they're doing.

Again, she'll never admit it. But Mc is fascinated by Sans. Most serial killers are delusional and kinda pathetic, but Sans is as if all the stereotypes of the 'genius mastermind serial killer' were true. She gets to be up close and personal, see how he works; she gets to watch his mask rise and fall in real time.

Of course, he knows she's fascinated. He uses it to keep her coming back. He's fascinated with her, too~

[nipuni]

Hello! Time for another blog post! I think my last one was two months ago and a lot has happened since 😊

We have been attending a ton of historical recreation events so I still have many photos to share, hope you don't hate those! It's been really fun! We are exhausted and all out of social battery however so we are taking it easy this month. Another thing that's been happening a lot is that even when we are not dressed in historical clothing we keep getting stopped by strangers on the street because of our everyday outfits, it's been like that for a couple of years now so we are no longer startled or nervous about it but it's happening more and more often now and it's so nice! we always end up chatting about the events we go to and our jobs and hobbies and exchanging contacts or they ask for photos and stuff! people are really kind and excited about it and I still find it so surprising in the best way. We grew up in a very hostile city and environment and that makes you paranoid and cynical so these interactions and response has been healing really. I know their words will stick with us for years to come 😭 Sadly the unbearable heat is starting though so that means our outings for the next three months will be limited to the crack of dawn and after sunset 😞 but at least the summer brings a lot of fruit with it so we can sit at home and eat pineapples and strawberries while we wait for autumn.

My family came to visit a few months ago too and we made them watch most of Doctor Who's season one to four and some of our favourite episodes from all the other seasons lmao. And much to our delight they really enjoyed it!! They both loved Ten the most and my step dad is now in love with Martha 🥰

We have also been watching the current season and it's been so fun keeping up with fandom theories in real time and talking about it and speculating with friends in person, it's the first time we get a chance to do it since we got into the series and we are enjoying it a lot!

We also watched season one of Jessica Jones and we loved David's performance as Kilgrave!! He stole the show for real. Kilgrave is such an incredible villain, one of the best I've seen and DT does such an amazing job portraying every aspect of him. He's detestable and volatile and frighteningly powerful and has such an intimidating terrifying presence in the narrative while also being pathetic and vulnerable and ridiculous and childish and so human with all it's worrying implications. It was just so gripping and I wish he had stayed for the rest of the show honestly!! Now we have to pick our next David Tennant series to watch! 😊

Also!! Dragon Age is back!! AHHH I wanted to thank everyone that commented on my last DA pieces, it has made my month to read the comments, I didn't expect so many people to remember my art or my character after so many years and it's so touching and flattering you have no idea 😭💘 I look forward to making more and sharing them with you all, I'm truly grateful for the kindness you've shown me both back then and now I hope you know.

I feel so spoiled lately with all these franchises that I love releasing new content!! I've never been in these many fandoms at once!! I have so many ideas to draw and keep jumping back and forth between drawings from different shows and games AAAAA it's a good and welcome change honestly, keeps me busy and inspired!

Anyway that's all for now I think! I hope you are doing well and this summer/winter is kind to you all ❤️

[kassiekole22]

Joy Ride

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Brian O'Conner X Fem!Reader

Description: Brian finds you walking home late one night and offers you a ride, which turns into a night-long joy ride around Miami.

Warnings: Fluff, Speeding, Friends Or Future Lovers? (You Decide)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Sooooo, I watched 2 Fast 2 Furious for the first time a around a month ago and this guy has been on my mind ever since. I have always really loved Paul Walker so this was bound to happen eventually. 😂 I don't know if I plan to write more for him or if this will just be a one time thing, but I have been working on this fic for quite some time now and I'm happy to finally be posting it. More to come from other beloved characters soon! Enjoy the fic and if you want more Brian O'Conner fics in the future, let me know in the comments or inbox! 🖤 (Also did any of you get the reference in the name? 👀)

Main MasterList: 🖤

Kassie's Angels: @mornandil, @lorebite.

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

2002

The air is pretty cool for a night in Miami, but I don't mind. I walk with my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, protecting them from the slight chill. It's nothing too intense, but I haven't been used to being in cooler temperatures for awhile now.

I walk quickly down the sidewalk as a few cars pass from time to time. The sounds of their engines make my fingers and feet tingle a little, my body missing the feeling of the steering wheel gripped in my fingers and the gas pedal under my foot.

I wrecked pretty badly during my last race, resulting in my car becoming too banged up to drive. Most street racers have other cars to fall back on. Unfortunately for me, my girl was all I had. Now I'm left to walk on foot until I can get enough money to fix her.

The ambiance in the street is pretty calm until I hear the familiar rumble of a very specific engine approaching my side. To my surprise, that iconic silver and blue Nissan Skyline pulls up, slowing down to drive at my walking speed. But the slick paint job or glowing underbody isn't what makes it difficult to look away. The driver is none other than the man who beat me in my last race, Brian O'Conner.

I'm met with a kind smile as he rolls down his windows, his bright blue eyes glancing up at me from the shadows of the interior. There is just something about that man that draws me in. I could never tell what exactly it was, but it pulled me in his direction like a bee to a flower every time I was in the same location as him.

"Ey, need a ride?" He queries in a rasied voice, nearly shouting over the Skyline's growl.

Though it's tempting, I don't want to throw a wrench in any plans he may have. Knowing him, he has another street race or date to get to at this hour. So, despite the aching pain in my feet that is screaming in protest, I respond casually, "Nah, man. I'm good. Home's not too far away anyway, y'know?"

Even though it wouldn't take him too long, it would be pretty pointless to drive only a couple blocks anyway. He takes a mere second to let my words sink in and find an answer, his eyes hopeful as they are taken off the road and landing on me once more.

"We don't gotta take you home. The night's still—" He checks his watch, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes the time. "—Well, middle-aged, but that don't gotta stop the fun."

I can't contain a faint chuckle at his dumb joke, rolling my eyes as I do so. The next thing I know, my feet are subconsciously coming to a stop, and he gently lays on the brakes. His car is also stopping right beside where I now stand, but the engine still purrs softly to alert all of its consciousness.

"Ah, c'mon, girl. Let's live a little, eh?" He flashes me that dangerous half-smirk that beckons me forward into mischief. It now dawns on me that he might not have the intention of taking me home, which is intriguing in a way.

I contemplate my options for a moment. The only thing waiting for me at home is a couple bottles of beer and some cold pizza left in the fridge from the night prior. It seems like I've been spending most of my time alone lately. Maybe it would be good to spend some time in good company.

"Alright," I give in with a subtle but still noticeable sigh, backing down in my mental debate.

He reaches across and opens the passenger door for me as I round the car, its headlights illuminating me for a brief moment as I cross in front of the bumper before hoping into the seat offered to me. It felt weird being in the left seat and not having a steering wheel before me. I could never get used to those foreign imported cars. 

But regardless, it sure is a beauty. The leather interior smells oddly fresh and calming, with a faint hint of exhaust filtering through the open windows. It's clear he just cleaned her up. Brian was always the type to take care of his rides.

I pull the seatbelt across my chest and lock it in securely, mentally preparing myself for the wild ride I know damn well he is about to take me on. He looks at me and flashes me that cocky yet proud smile as he revvs the engine for only a moment before taking off into the night.

With windows down and speed carrying us, I feel like I'm floating on air. The soft breeze I felt only moments ago is now a fast wind in my hair, and the soft ambiance of the nightlife in Miami is now disturbed by a machine growl.

I glance over at him, and it's as if time slows for just a minute as I take in how happy he is. He's a simple man. He doesn't need the fancy things in life, just a fast car to make the corners of his lips part into that iconic grin I have grown to love.

"Wanna get fuckin' nuts?" He asks me, his voice taking me out of my thoughts and putting me back into reality. That's when I notice that mischievous look in his ocean blue eyes, their pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

Hm... Blue and full of adrenaline, like the blood pumping in our veins.

"What?" I blurt out, not fully comprehending what he is asking, until my gaze wanders down to where his thumbs hovers over the nitro buttons.

I look at the road ahead, seeing that it is completely barren of all life, and I can't help but smirk at the thought of what he is suggesting. It's a dangerous game—playing with speed in such a way—but a thrilling one, for sure.

Taking my eyes off the road ahead to look back at him, I notice the hopeful glint once again in his eyes, only pushing my thought process toward wanting to comply. So without a second breath, I cheer, "Fuck yeah!"

With a simple click of two buttons at once, we are off like a rocket in space. Suddenly, the street lights look like comets, and the lines on the road are just blurs of colors. It's oddly beautiful in a way, and I marvel at how it ignites my soul with such a unique feeling, which I can't possibly seek from anything else. My fingers dig into the sides of my seat as my heart pounds against my ribcage like thunder, both overwhelmed but thirsty for more of this intoxicating rush.

Though Brian only lets this last for a moment, just seconds passed that will remain with me for an eternity. We laugh as the car slows to a semi-normal speed again. My smile is so wide, I can feel my face begin to hurt.

But I don't care. I am just so high on the thrill that my mind is lost in a cloudy space of euphoria. It's crazy how the night went from a quiet walk home to taking a joy ride with one of my rivals, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Once our laughter dies down, the soft purr of the engine is the only thing heard yet again as we both seemingly get lost in our own thoughts. What is he thinking? I wish I knew. The only thing on my mind is how happy I am. It isn't until a couple minutes later that he speaks his mind, taking a deep breath before his lips finally form the words he has been pondering.

"We should do this more often," he suggests in that nonchalant tone he carries quite regularly for someone with such excitement in his life. "Y'know, hang out outside the racing world? You're a cool girl."

I can't repress how my smile softens for a moment at his words as my eyes flick over in his direction while a million responses filter through my mind. This guy is a legend—a local celebrity, if you will. To have this opportunity is an honor. However, I don't necessarily get the vibe of entitlement from him. Instead, his atmosphere reflects something else—something friendly and inviting.

"And you're a cool guy. I'd love to hang with you more often." I reply, trying to sound chill but coming off way more sincere than intended. Though he doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he seems to be pleased with my response.

The next thing I know, he is pulling into a public beach. Its sands are abandoned by any human life due to the lateness of time, though the footprints of the visitors that day still remain like ghosts of the past, their memories carved in the sand until they get washed away by the waves.

He locks the car in park, unhooks his seatbelt, and gets out. I watch through the windshield as he rounds the side of it to rest back on the hood. My eyes study him as he lifts himself to sit on the hood, not once looking back to see if I leave the car as well. It's almost as if he expects me to.

So to fulfill his silent expectations, I swing my door open and hop out after freeing myself from my seatbelt, nearly stumbling as the ground is unexpectedly unsteady where I stand. My feet sink into the sand, and I'm grateful I chose to wear boots tonight over anything else.

Once out of my sticky situation, I take a moment to appreciate the freshness in the air—the sweet smell of the ocean before me for just a second. After approaching him, I rest beside him on the hood, watching the waves crash before us. It reminds me that life is quite like the sea. It's unpredictable, a little scary at times, but beautiful in many unique ways. I release a soft breath, my body relaxing in this calming moment.

"I remember the first time I saw you pull up in that black Trans Am to the race. Fuckin' engine and bass on your stereo roaring over the sound of the crowd." He chuckles while he reminisces about old memories.

"Buni," I correct him as I smile fondly, thinking about the beauty that's currently under a tarp in my garage, just waiting to be repaired and set free on the road once again.

"Yeah, Buni." He parrots me in an almost teasing way. I know he finds the fact that I named my car ridiculous, but I can see it in his eyes that it amuses him all the same. "You're something else, (L/N). A damn good racer, though."

My heart flutters at the compliment, and I feel my cheeks heat up with this familiar warmth that only he ignites in me best. The soft breeze blows through my hair as I think of a reply, running through my strains like an angel's fingertips. But it's not the breeze nor the location that has me in such a calm and joyful state.

I continue to study him—the way his blonde curls blow in the breeze, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly to show his contentment, his biceps flexing ever so slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. It amazes me how all the different shades of blue in his iris reflect the scene before us. It's like I could literally drown in them each time I gaze into them to admire their beauty.

"Yeah? You and your Skyline ain't so bad either." I finally quip with a small bit of sarcasm dripping from my tone after forcing myself out of where my mind has disappeared to for a short time. He smiles softly at my words, because it's evident how I really feel about him. He knows, and I know that, but I don't really care anymore.

We talk until sunrise and watch as the black sky fades into orange and pink, blending with the stars to make them barely visible. Though they are out of sight, I know they still shine brightly above us, like angels waiting for us in heaven. It's quite special—maybe even magical.

The sea reflects the morning sun as it rises from the horizon, its golden rays shining upon us as we remain on the hood of the car. It's just us out here in our own little world. If I learned anything from last night, it's not the place that makes a moment special, but the person you share it with.

I don't know where this road will take us. I know it will be a long one—with plenty of traffic and bumps ahead—but the ride will be an enjoyable one with a new friend in the seat next to me as we speed through it all. And if we happen to get separated some point along the way, I know in my heart that I'll see him again.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Twelve

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Series Master List

The final Pedro boy is coming to the bakery. Twelve weeks, twelve Pedro Pascal characters and one very lucky baker girl!

Thank you all so much for your comments, reblogs and love for this slightly unusual series of short stories. I've loved writing them and I've loved reading all your comments on the chapters. The love you've shown these boys, especially some of the ones that don't always get that much attention (I'm looking at you Pero...) is heart warming and really makes me as mushy as Marcus's chocolate fondant.

So...I think you can guess who the twelfth and final boy is 🥰🥰🥰

Your Sunday morning rush is just dying down as you see Mrs Levinson come through the door. As you watch, she turns and waves someone into the shop, and you catch a glimpse of a tall man in a baseball cap and aviators, before your next customer steps up and you turn to greet them.  

You glance over at Mrs Levinson at intervals, she’s chatting to the man while waiting her turn and he’s got his back to you. As you watch, he shrugs, making an apologetic gesture with his hands and starts walking towards the front door. You can’t help but giggle under your breath as Mrs Levinson’s frail old lady hand comes out at viper speed and grabs his arm, making him stop in his tracks. Even though he looks big enough to just shake her off with another shrug, he stops and turns back to her. She gives him a smug smile, and even from behind the counter, you can see the sigh that escapes him, his shoulders lifting and dropping as his hand comes up and scratches at the back of his neck. 

You’re intrigued when it’s finally their turn, Mrs Levinson stepping up to the counter and giving you a delighted smile. The man with her follows just behind and glances up at you from under the peak of his cap. He looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can see his fingers twitching by his side, nervously tapping his thigh.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mrs Levinson coos, her smile bright enough to rival the sun, mischief in her eyes, “I’m so glad we caught you in the shop today.” 

“Hi, Mrs Levinson, what can I get you?” you smile back at her with slight apprehension, there is something decidedly unusual in her manner today. Plus, she was in yesterday for her weekly order, you didn’t expect to see her for at least another few days.

“Oh, I think it’s about what I can get you, my dear,” she twinkles, turning and ushering forward the man behind her, the neck visible above his gray t-shirt a deep shade of pink, “This is the boy I was telling you about, Mrs Morales’s son, Francisco.”

“Frankie”, the man says immediately, quickly pulling the aviators from his eyes and looking as if he’s just waiting for you to put him out of his misery at being coerced into this by an old lady about a third of his size. 

“She works too much, Francisco,” Mrs Levinson says, “I thought maybe you could do something about that,” she smiles at Frankie, who briefly closes his eyes and seems to send up silent a prayer. 

Mrs Levinson pats his arm, “There now, dear boy, buy something nice for your mother. This girl really bakes the most delicious cakes, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” 

With that she gives you another beaming smile, and leaves the shop, leaving you and Frankie staring at each other. You crack first, a nervous giggle erupting from inside as you realize the ridiculousness of the situation. Frankie’s eyes widen for a moment, before he cracks too, a deep wheezing laugh making his shoulders shake as he grabs hold of the counter for support. 

“I’m really sorry about that,” he finally says, drawing a deep breath as you both fight back the bubbling laughter, “She’s been talking about you for weeks and when I ran into her down the block, she wouldn’t let me leave.” 

“It’s fine, I’m used to her meddling, I swear she’s tried to set me up with everyone of her friend’s sons,” you smile. The man across the counter, in the thankfully empty shop, gives you a nervous smile back. He really is cute, you realize, as you look closer at him. A deep dimple in his cheek as he smiles, smile lines around his eyes and wild curls escaping the ball cap to wrap around his neck and ears. 

“Well, I’ll buy something and then leave, I hope this wasn’t too weird,” he says, still looking a little nervous as he rubs the back of his neck again. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, she’s a menace,” you say, rolling your eyes and smiling at him, “And you seem like a perfectly nice man, I was expecting much worse from her to be honest.” 

Frankie chuckles at that, a pleasant sound, and his dark brown eyes are warm as he tugs at his cap, the pink creeping back up his neck. 

“I’m glad I've exceeded your expectations,” he says, shifting his weight on his feet, crossing his arms before he uncrosses them again and stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, glancing up at you, one side of his mouth pulled in a crooked smile, “And to be honest, I wasn’t expecting much either, but I’m…uuh…you’re even prettier than she said.” 

Your cheeks feel like someone lit a furnace as Frankie tilts his head, his smile widening as he sees you nervously swallow, your tongue suddenly feels too thick. 

“Thanks,” you squeak, “that’s…really sweet of you to say,” a shy smile creeping across your face as you hastily rearrange the order forms on the counter before you look up at Frankie again. He’s still looking at you, a bit more confidence in his smile now, and for what feels like several minutes, but is probably only a few heartbeats, you look at each other across the counter, something starting to bubble under the surface. 

Eventually Frankie clears his throat, “I should probably buy something now right? Before you think I’m even weirder than getting dragged in here by a little old lady.” 

It makes you laugh, and Frankie smiles back at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling again as he looks at you with something that loosens a delighted little flutter in your belly. 

“She’s a very convincing little old lady,” you chuckle, “but what can I get you?”

“Uuh…I have no idea,” he fumbles, glancing across the display case and then looking up at you with a slightly desperate look, “What would you recommend?” 

“For your mother?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, I think I should get her something, she always saying how good your place is,” he replies, giving you another smile, “She loves your lemon meringue pie.” 

“I don't have any left today I’m afraid,” you say, “I sold them all, but I made canelés this morning. She probably hasn’t had them before, I only just started making them,” you point to the small golden brown cakes and Frankie bends his tall frame to look closer at them. 

“What’s in them?” he asks, glancing up at you again and you grab one from the tray, handing it over to him. 

“Vanilla and rum, try it, see if you think she’ll like it.” 

“Thanks,” he says, taking the cake from your tongs and you can’t help but notice how his large hand seems to dwarf it before he takes a bite. 

“Oh yeah…” he hums, nodding as his eyes widen, “these are amazing, I think she’d love ‘em, they’re really good,” he puts the other half in his mouth and chews with a smile. The pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his lips as he swallows the last bite down. 

“Sold,” he says with a grin, “give me eight of those, four for her, four for me.” 

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like them,” you beam as you start packing his order, “they’re my new favorite and if people like them I’ll keep making them.” 

“I hope you do, they’re really good,” Frankie replies, discreetly wiping his thumb over his bottom lip, catching some crumbs that have fallen into his scruffy beard, as he watches you.

“Alright, there you go,” you say and Frankie pulls his wallet from the pocket of his tan jacket, and taps his card on the machine, “And…I hope you come back, Frankie,” you give him a shy smile, “If Mrs Levinson didn’t scare you off.”  

“No chance,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your skin tingle, “I’m happy she made me come.”

“You’re welcome back any day,” you reply, your cheeks burning under his soft eyes. You’re both caught staring at each other for a few seconds again, Frankie swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he seems to search for a reason to stay, and you’re quietly hoping he’ll find one. 

“I…I should maybe get going,” he stutters eventually, taking a tentative step towards the front door, glancing down at boots, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. You’re quickly starting to love the small gesture, especially when he looks back up again from under the peak of his cap and gives you another small smile, the dimple deepening in his cheek as he sees you smile in return. 

“Bye, then,” he raises his hand in a wave, reaching the door and pulling it open, still smiling at you.

“Bye, Frankie,” you smile, mentally trying to stop yourself from twirling, “See you soon.” 

You don’t expect him to turn up as soon as he does, but on Tuesday afternoon, when you’re busy kneading dough for cinnamon rolls, you hear the doorbell jingle. Stepping out of the kitchen you can’t help the smile that creeps up when you see him standing by the door, looking around the shop. He’s foregone the cap today, his dark chocolate curls a bit tidier around the ears but still fighting to escape whatever he’s attempted to do to contain them. 

He smiles when he spots you by the kitchen door, his hand flying up to tug at his cap, forgetting it’s not there as he grabs at nothing. Fumbling he pushes his hand through his hair instead, the curls immediately escaping and creating a halo around his head. 

“Hi,” he says, walking over as you take in his long legs in dark jeans, the untucked blue shirt crinkled as if he’s just tugged it out of his pants. 

“Hi Frankie,” you smile back at him, wiping your hands on your apron, wondering how much of a mess you are, the kitchen is hot and the dough has been fighting you for the past ten minutes. He comes to a stop just in front of you and you can smell his cologne, the warm scent mixing with the cinnamon from behind you. 

“Whatever you’re baking, it smells really good,” he says, looking over your shoulder and then back at you. 

“Thanks, cinnamon rolls, the ultimate ‘good for business’ scent,” you grin, “people always buy extra when I bake them.” 

“Sneaky marketing,” he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles and shifts his weight, “You’ve got something on your cheek, can I?” he asks, lifting his hand and you nod, wondering what the hell you managed to smear on yourself this time, “You’ve got flour right…here,” he says, his thumb gently swiping across your cheek, dusting away the smudge and leaving a warm imprint on your skin. 

“Thanks, I’m always getting stuff on my face or in my hair,” you say, attempting to wipe off your apron, covered in more flour to hide your nerves at his close proximity, “I’m a messy baker.”

“It’s cute,” he replies, swiping his thumb over the spot again, slower this time, “I think I got it all.” 

The oven timer beeps in the kitchen, interrupting the moment, “First batch,” you say, thumbing behind you, “I need to get them out.” 

Frankie nods and leans on the door frame as you hurry back into the kitchen. The warm smell of cinnamon hits you both as you open the door and you hear Frankie inhale deeply. 

“That smells incredible,” he sighs, inhaling again, “you’re clever to use that as marketing.” 

You laugh and set the trays down on one of the stainless steel counters, “I need to get a fan with an exhaust out onto the street, spread this scent across the block.” 

“You’d sell out in a heartbeat,” he chuckles as you go back to the dough and start rolling it out on the workbench. 

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asks as he watches you, “I just wanted to stop by and say that my mom loved those little cakes and wanted me to ask what they’re called. I totally forgot…” he gives you an embarrassed grin as you glance over at him with a smile. 

“Canelés. And I’m glad she loved them, I’ve only got a few left but I’m making more tomorrow.” 

“Canelés, I’ll try to remember that,” Frankie says, “And I’ll tell her you’ve got a fresh batch tomorrow.” 

“You seem close with your mom,” you say, still working on the dough and Frankie smiles fondly.

“Yeah, we’re close. Wasn’t always like that though, I had some messy years after I got out of the army, I tried keeping everyone away. But she didn’t give up on me, hauled me back to town, helped me out a lot more than she should’ve needed too. I’m trying to pay her back for saving my life.” 

You look over at him, he’s leaned his head on the door frame and gives you a little embarrassed shrug, “I’m a mama’s boy.” 

“As you should be, Francisco,” you tease him, “She’s a very nice lady and one of my best customers.” 

“Even before I moved back here she was telling me about your bakery,” Frankie grins, “can’t believe it took me so long to visit,” He pushes himself off from the door frame and comes over to the workbench, “Can I help out with anything, feels weird standing there doing nothing while you’re working.” 

“You don’t have to do anything, Frankie, you’re just nice company,” you smile at him and he smiles back as the tips of his ears go slightly pink, his hand drifting down to the small of your back as he stands next to you. The warmth of his large hand radiates through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and sends a tingling up and down your spine. 

“Come on, put me to work,” he says and your mind goes blank as he slowly moves his hand up and down your back while he waits for your reply. The small motion is so unremarkable, so ordinary, but it feels like all you need to do is turn to him and let him lead, let the comfort of his solid frame standing next to you, wrap around you like the warmth from his hand. You look up at him, letting go of the rolling pin and turning into his arms, his hand on your back sliding around your waist, curling gently to hold you.   

He smiles again, tilting his head to the side as if he’s getting ready to say something, but the doorbell jingles out in the shop. Frankie leans back and peaks out, whipping his head right back in with a low curse. 

“It’s my mom!” he whispers, his eyes widening as he tries to stifle his giggles, “if she sees me back here I’ll never hear the end of it!” 

“Fridge,” you whisper back, matching his giggle under your breath, “stay close to the wall and she can’t see you.” 

Frankie nods, his grin wide and mischievous as he hugs the wall, sliding towards the fridge as quietly as he can. You wipe your hands on the apron as you make your way out to the shop, smiling at Mrs Morales. 

“Hello, Mrs Morales,” you say a bit too loudly, to hide the sound of her son opening the walk-in fridge in the kitchen, “How are things?” 

“Just fine, thank you,” the gray haired lady smiles at you and you’re hit by how much Frankie looks like her, the same warm smile and deep dimple in her cheeks. “How are you, busy as ever?” 

“I’m good, thanks. Business is a bit quieter after the holidays but I’m keeping busy, preparing for Valentine’s Day and then Easter,” you reply, strategically leaning on the counter so that she can’t see straight into the kitchen. 

“Oh, of course, Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” she says, giving you a sly smile, “Anyone special to take you out?” 

“No, no one special,” you say, trying to keep the giggle that’s bubbling up inside contained at the thought of her son hiding just a few feet away, “I’m too busy for that, especially coming up to Valentine’s Day.” 

“Well…” she says, an air of false indifference to her tone, “if I run into any handsome single men, I’ll send them your way.” 

“That’s really nice, Mrs Morales, but you don’t need to,” you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the grin that wants to split your face, “I’m sure someone will come by the shop and ask me out.” You hope Frankie heard that, you’re sure he’s eavesdropping with the fridge door cracked open. 

“I’ll make sure they do,” his mother replies, a mischievous smile on her face so reminiscent of the one her son just gave you, before she schools her features. 

“So what can I get you today?” you ask, steering the conversation away from potential dates and she scans the selection on display. 

“My son Francisco brought me the most delicious little cakes on Sunday,” she smiles innocently, glancing up at you, “he said you sold them to him, he got some for himself too.” 

“I remember,” you say, “I have four left but I’m making fresh ones tomorrow if you want to come by then instead?” 

“Oh, you know what, that’s a great idea,” Mrs Morales beams, “I’ll send Francisco to pick them up, can I reserve ten? I’m having some friends over that I know will love them.” 

You grab your order pad and nod, not trusting yourself to not giggle madly, and write down her order, carefully folding it up and placing it next to the till before you dare look up at her again. 

“I’ll make sure to put aside ten canelés for you, Mrs Morales,” you smile, biting the inside of your cheek, “Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again.” 

A metallic clunk is heard from the kitchen and you quickly clear your throat, “Sorry about the noise, I’ve got a repair man taking care of the fridge.”

“Such a talented girl,” Mrs Morales smiles brightly at you, “you bake all these lovely things and run your own business,” she gives you a wave and opens the front door, “I’ll be sure to send Francisco tomorrow.” 

“Bye, Mrs Morales,” you wave, turning back to the kitchen as soon as the door closes behind her. 

Frankie is just closing the fridge door behind himself as you come in and he looks up at you. His neck is flushed beet red, his ears the most violent shade of pink and he’s pointing an accusing finger at you as he tries to stop the grin that’s splitting his rosy face. 

“She…she is bad enough,” he says, “but you, egging her on!”

“What, I was just being polite to one of my regulars,” you grin at him as he shakes his head, the same bright smile as his mom’s. 

“‘Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again,’“ he says, mimicking your cheerful customer service voice as you giggle, “You know, she’ll call me the second she’s in the car, I’ll never hear the end of this until I marr- “ he coughs, cutting himself off and impossibly turning an even deeper shade of beet. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worried, Frankie, I was only telling the truth,” you smile at him and go back to the workbench and the cinnamon roll dough, “I am looking forward to you coming by tomorrow.” 

Frankie lets a low chuckle escape as he scuffs his boots on the floor, coming to lean his back against the workbench. 

“That’s so?” His ears are still a beautiful shade of pink, and his small smile while he looks at you with those deep brown eyes, makes your insides fill with excited little bubbles.  

“That’s so,” you tell him as his phone starts to ring and he pulls it out of his back pocket. 

“Told you she’d call me,” he laughs, showing you his phone, “I’ll sneak out the back if that’s ok?” 

“Sure, avoid your mom, Francisco,” you tease him, but he just steps closer, drops a soft kiss to your cheek, and steps back with a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, cariño.” 

Before you can compose yourself, he’s out through the back door, giving you a final wave. 

The canelés spread their vanilla and rum scent throughout the bakery the next evening, and you’ve packed up a box of ten for Mrs Morales. The only thing missing is her handsome son to pick them up. If you had to, you’d admit to yourself that you’re really, really looking forward to him coming by. As it draws near to closing time you keep checking yourself in the small mirror, glancing out at the street. Slowly you clear out the display cases and bring things into the dishwasher, and then you hear the front door bell jingle out in the shop. 

You attempt a casual stroll out from the kitchen, and Frankie is by the door, giving you a warm smile. He’s just swiped the ball cap off his head, running his fingers through the unruly curls with one hand as he stuffs the cap into his back pocket with the other. 

“Hey,” he says, coming over as you reach the counter, “you look really nice.” 

“Thanks,” you smile back at him, glancing down at your new blouse that’s really far too nice to wear in the kitchen, “you look good too.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up into his curly hairline and then he glances down at himself like he has to check what he’s wearing. 

“I do?” he asks and the disbelief in his voice makes you laugh. The faded denim shirt hugs his shoulders and he’s folded the sleeves up over his forearms, a smattering of freckles visible under the shop’s overhead lights. As he runs his palms over his chest, smoothing out the fabric you smile at him. 

“Yeah, you do, that’s a really nice color on you.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a crooked smile, his ears turning pink. Watching Frankie blush is quickly becoming one of your favorite things and you’re glad to see that even the slightest compliment will get him there. His nervous little shuffle and the way the tip of his tongue comes out to lick at his lips before he glances up at you again, makes you feel giddy as you feign a need to wipe the tables and step out from behind the counter. 

“I just need to finish up so that I can close, but I’ve got your mom’s order ready to go,” you say and walk around him to the first table. 

“No rush,” he says, “can I help you with anything?” 

“Thanks, Frankie, do you think you could bring in the sign from the street?,” you reply, pointing to the chalkboard sign, “it’s so heavy, I always hit my shins on the damn thing.” 

“I could probably put some wheels on it for you.” Frankie says, pushing open the door, holding it open with one hand as he grabs the heavy sign with the other, effortlessly picking it up and moving it into the shop while you look at his casual display of strength with raised eyebrows.

 “What?” he says, his forehead furrowing with worry, “Did I do it wrong?” 

“It takes me two hands and a lot of grunting trying to get that thing inside without scratching the floor, and you’re acting like it weighs nothing,” you give him a mock scowl as his worried look disappears. He’s chuckling as he leans the heavy sign against the wall. 

“Sorry, I’ve handled a lot of heavy backpacks in my days, this really wasn’t that much in comparison.” 

“Show off,” you grumble and he dusts off his hands, still chuckling. 

“You’ve got other skills, like being an incredibly talented baker,” he smiles, “I bet you can make anything, no limits.” 

“As long as I’ve got a recipe, I guess,” you admit, “it’s just chemistry in the end.” 

“Have you ever made alfajores?” he asks, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his arms as you start wiping down the last table, “They’re my favorites.” 

“No, I’ve never made them, but I’ve tried them once, they’re really good.” 

“My mom doesn’t really bake, but I know she’s got my abuela’s recipe,” he says, “if you wanna try something new. The recipe is in Spanish so you know it’s authentic,” he gives you a quick grin. 

“I don’t speak Spanish, I wouldn’t be able to read it,” you say, twisting the kitchen towel in your hands as Frankie smiles at you. You’ve wiped down the last table and now you’re leaned against it, mimicking Frankie’s stance across the room. 

“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?” he asks, his dimpled cheek making your heart flutter for a few seconds before you find your voice again. 

“Yeah, sure, but I remember like three or four things,” you can’t help but smile back at him, especially when you recall what phrases you remember. You can feel your cheeks heat up and he definitely picks up on it. 

“You only remember the dirty words?” he winks, and you have to turn away and busy yourself with wiping down the table again as you giggle. 

“No, they’re not dirty words,” you laugh, shaking out the cloth and tossing it in the back. 

“So tell me then,” he grins, “I wanna hear your Spanish!”

You feel the smile on your face, threatening to take over as your cheeks heat up even more, and he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised up towards his unruly brown curls. 

“Fine…” you say finally, drawing a deep breath and recalling your high school Spanish and the lines you’d learnt from a cute exchange student in college. 

“Cállate,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up even more, before he mimics zipping his lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key. 

“Ven aqui,” you continue with a smile at him and he smiles back, immediately stepping across the floor and standing obediently right in front of you.  

You pause and exhale slowly, he’s so close now, you can see the rich dark brown color of his eyes so clear, the woodsy smell of his body wash, or maybe it’s his aftershave, lingering in your nose, and his lips quirk up in a smile. He knows the effect he’s having on you, and he loves it. 

You smile back at him, working up the courage to say the next phrase.

“Bésame.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. He steps a little bit closer, leaning into you, and you feel the tickle of his scruffy beard as he softly touches his lips to your cheek. He lingers for a few seconds, and you dare hardly move, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. And then he pulls back, his smile softer now, his eyes darker. 

“Any more phrases?” he asks, his voice low, and you nod slowly. 

“Un beso más.”

“Un beso más?” he whispers, his lips already so close, and you nod again as they brush against yours. 

His kiss is gentle and soft, his hands carefully coming up to curl around your waist as he bends his head to yours. The short scruff of the mustache tickles delicately against your skin as he deepens the kiss, and when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your hands finding the silky soft curls at his neck, he hums into your mouth. His hands, so warm and large, tighten their grip and pull you a little bit closer, making you curve yourself into him. He’s solid, firm, under your arms, but his mouth is soft, warm and wet when he gently nips on your bottom lip, making you open up for him. With a small moan you let him lick into your mouth, making him groan in response and pull you tight against his chest. His hand slides up from your waist, cupping your cheek, his large hand easily spanning around your neck as his thumb caresses your skin. 

Minutes pass, the only sounds your combined breaths mingling, soft moans and wet lips pressed together. 

After what feels like an eternity, but also not long enough by far, Frankie pulls back a little, his thumb gently brushing over your kiss swollen lips, letting you chase the pad of his thumb with a small chuckle. 

“Better than I even dreamed of,” he mumbles, removing his thumb and pressing one more kiss to your lips. You hum in agreement as his tongue tangles with yours again, the need to feel more of him rising, making you curl your fingers tighter into his hair, standing on your tiptoes. 

Suddenly Frankie bends his knees, dropping his hands and grabbing the back of your thighs, picking you up. You quickly wrap your legs around his narrow waist and giggle. He continues to press kisses to your lips between the bouts of laughter that bubbles up between you as he walks back to the kitchen with you hanging on like a koala. 

“To many people walking past outside,” he mumbles as he puts you down on the counter, kissing you again, “with my luck Mrs Levinson will come into the shop.” 

“I’d say she’d be scandalized,” you giggle, “but something tells me she was a menace when she was younger.”

“Definitely, I’d say she’s done her fair share of making out,” Frankie chuckles, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, capturing your bottom lip between his own, his nose bumping against yours as he gently nibbles on your lip, making you pull him closer with a moan. 

Frankie’s hand slides up and down your back and you tangle your fingers in his hair again while he cups your cheek with the other. Several more minutes disappear as he explores every way he can pull soft moans from you with his lips close to yours. 

Eventually you pull back a little and Frankie opens his eyes. His pupils are blown wide but he’s smiling as he sneaks a final kiss from you. 

“You make me lose track of time, Francisco Morales,” you mumble as he tries to pull you in closer, making you giggle when he pouts, his plush bottom lip pink and shiny from the past few minutes. 

“Your kisses are distracting,” he smiles, “I guess I’m keeping you from important baking chores?” 

“I just need to order some things for later in the week,” you say as he steps back and pulls you off the counter. 

“Don’t let me distract you any more then,” he replies, his hands sliding down over your hips, lightly grabbing at the softness, “just let me come back soon.” 

“Come back anytime you want and I’ll make those alfajores for you,” you tell him, “just bring the recipe.” 

He smiles at that, his hands never seizing their movements up and down your curves, “I’ll bring it and we can make it together if you want,” he replies, “My abuela used to let me help her make them.” 

“I’d love that, Frankie,” you beam, “just tell me what to order,” you make him walk backwards, pushing at his wide shoulders as he chuckles, glancing behind him as you walk him towards the small office set up and your laptop. 

“Well, you need manjar, that’s what she calls dulce de leche,” he says, letting go of you as you sit down. He stands next to you, one large hand splayed on the desk for support as he leans in to look at the screen, “Fuck, I’m getting old, I need reading glasses,” he grumbles, making you giggle as you stroke your finger over the gray in his beard. 

“I bet you look really good in glasses, Frankie,” you smile up at him and he chuckles. 

“Thanks, I need to hear that often or I’ll never wear them,” he replies and you shake your head. 

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” you laugh, turning back to the laptop, “So, dulce de leche, anything else I might not have?”

“Corn flour?” he says, “That’s the only ingredient my abuela would have to buy specially for them, the rest is normal baking stuff.” 

“Good to know,” you say, adding the extras to your order, “We’re all set.”

“When can I come by,” Frankie asks as you stand up, following you back out to the shop. 

“I’ll have the order tomorrow, so any day after closing this week works for me,” you grab Mrs Morales’s canelés and give them to Frankie. 

“Does Friday work?” he asks, looking a bit shy all of a sudden, especially for a man who’s just spent the past half an hour kissing you breathless, “Only, I’d like to, I mean if you want to, I’d like to take you out for dinner afterwards. On a date, I mean, if you want too?” His ears go pink as he fumbles through the question and you take a step forward, putting both your hands on his cheeks and pulling his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose as he begins to smile. 

“I’ll love to, Frankie, dinner on Friday sounds perfect.” 

Halfway through closing on Friday afternoon you hear a knock on your backdoor. You’re already serving a customer so you ignore it, you’ve left the door unlocked for the delivery guy and he knows what to do. Mrs Levinson is next in line, ready to pick up her usual weekend order, and she’s looking very eager and chipper as she steps up to the counter. 

“Hello, dear!” she exclaims, a bright smile on her face as she winks at you, “How’s Francisco? His mother told me she sent him here the other day for a special order.” She winks at the last word, making you blush as you try to keep your composure.

“He picked it up just fine, thanks, Mrs Levinson”, you say, praying your voice is neutral. Internally you’re picturing how the little old lady’s head would likely pop with excitement if she knew how his last visit had gone. 

“Such a good looking boy, don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s very much a rhetorical question, but you nod along anyway, “Those brown eyes,” she sighs, “I tell you, if I was forty years younger….” She titters, delighted at her own joke, and you can’t help but laugh with her. 

“He does have very nice eyes, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, “I’ve got your order in the back, I’ll just get it for you.” 

You step into the kitchen, expecting to see the delivery guy, but instead you’re met by Frankie’s pink cheeks and big grin. He’s leaning on the doorway into your small back storage that leads to the backdoor, having clearly heard Mrs Levinson’s comments. He mouths a silent “Hi,” to you and you smile back at him, trying to stop the giggles that are threatening to bubble up. You have to pass him to get to where the orders are kept, and he quickly snakes an arm around your waist as you step into the storage room. His red plaid shirt is soft against your skin and the t-shirt underneath smells like him when you wrap your arm around him and return his hug. 

“Hi,” he whispers again, his mouth close to your ear, his ever present cap bumping against your cheek, as you reach up and caress his curls at his neck quickly, before grabbing the order. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, “I’ll be right back, let me just get rid of Mrs Levinson.” 

He nods and presses a warm kiss to your cheek before he lets you go. 

“Here you are, Mrs Levinson, your usual order,” you say as you step back into the shop, leaving Frankie hiding in the back room, “Anything else today?” 

“Four canelés, dear,” she smiles sweetly, “Mrs Morales was praising them, said her son just loved them.” 

“They are very nice, I’m sure you’ll love them too,” you reply, boxing four of the small cakes and ringing up her total, “There you go then, have a nice weekend now, Mrs Levinson.” 

“Speaking of Mrs Morales,” the old lady continues, ignoring your attempt to wrap up the conversation, “She said you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, I’m sure Francisco would love to take you out, you’d make such a handsome couple.” 

“I won’t have time for a date, really, it’s one of our busiest days,” you say, starting to wipe down the counter, praying she’ll get the hint, but no such luck. 

“Oh, nonsense, dear, you need to have some fun. I’ll tell Francisco to ask you out the next time I see him.”

“Really, Mrs Levinson, please don’t do that, I’m sure- “

You’re interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer, which is odd, the oven shouldn’t be on, but right now you’re very grateful for the beeping. 

“I’d better get that, Mrs Levinson,” you rush out, giving her a quick wave as you turn towards the kitchen, “Have a nice weekend!” 

“Always so busy, dear,” she smiles, waving back at you and leaves the bakery. With a deep sigh of relief you go back into the kitchen. Frankie is standing by the oven, fiddling with the knobs and you walk over and push the right one to turn off the alarm. 

“So I guess that was you,” you smile at him as he grins. 

“Yeah, it was either that or knock something over. Mrs Levinson was getting a bit too meddlesome,” he chuckles, glancing out through the kitchen door to make sure that she’s gone before he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, “Is it true you’re too busy for a date on Valentine’s Day?” he asks, “Because if you are, I’d like to ask you out for the fifteenth instead.” 

“I’m busy during the day, in the evening I’m free,” you smile up at him, “But any evening works for a date with you, Frankie.”

The tips of his ears go pink at that, and he gives you a wide, dimpled smile, bending his head to yours, his nose brushing over your cheek before he lets his lips capture yours in a soft kiss. 

“Good,” he mumbles, “because I want to take you out every night.” 

“I don’t want to go out every night,” you smile between his kisses, “Some nights I’d like to stay on the couch with pizza and a tub of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a nice night too, is there room for me on that couch?” he asks and you nod. 

“There might be, it’s not a very big couch, but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.” 

“Sounds even better,” Frankie mumbles and you can feel him smile against your lips, “How about we do some baking and then I take you out on that date I promised for tonight?”

“Let me just lock up the shop,” you kiss his warm lips one more time, before pulling away, “and we’ll get right to it.” 

“Let me grab the street sign for you, cariño,” he says, following you into the shop.

With everything locked up and the lights off in the shop, you set up in the kitchen and Frankie pulls out an envelope from his pocket. Inside is an old handwritten note in Spanish with the alfajores recipe from his grandmother. He gently smooths it out on the bench and joins you in the fridge where you’re getting the butter and eggs. 

You hear him come in and stand behind you, taking the butter from your hand as you balance three eggs in the other. 

“Anything else we need from here?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No, just the eggs and butter, we need three egg yolks.” 

“Ok, let's get the rest in the pantry then.” 

“Lead the way,” Frankie replies, smiling as you turn to face him, and you can’t help stepping closer and reaching up so that you can kiss him. He comes willingly, bending his head to your lips, and parting them for your tongue. 

“I really like kissing you,” you mumble against his lips and you hear the low rumble of his chuckle. 

“Good,” he mutters, “because I don’t want to stop kissing you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as you look up at him, his smile making you feel liquid inside, like jelly legs and too much fizzy drinks, bubbling over as you smile back at him. 

“Alfajores,” you finally say, after he’s kissed you a few extra times, and he chuckles again. 

“We keep getting distracted.” 

“I blame you, Francisco.” 

“I’m innocent, your lips are too kissable,” he grins and you giggle, cheeks heating up and it makes him laugh, taking your free hand in his own, “C’mon, baker girl, at this rate I’ll never get to take you out to dinner.” 

He leads you over to the pantry, listing the ingredients you need and letting you pile them high in his arms. Back at the workbench you weigh them out while Frankie translates his grandmother’s handwriting on the note. 

The ingredients come together to a loose dough and Frankie takes over, showing you how his grandmother would push the dough together without kneading. He’s shrugged out of his red plaid flannel shirt, the gray t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps as you watch his large hands gently push the dough around the bench, transfixed by how they move. 

“She always told me not to knead the dough,” he says, pressing a few more bits of dough into the circular mound taking shape, “Just push it together so that it holds its shape and then wrap it in cling film and chill in the fridge.” 

He pats the dough a few more times while you tear off a piece of plastic wrap and lay it down on the bench. 

“There,” Frankie says, gently lifting the dough onto it and wrapping it up, “thirty minutes in the fridge, then we can bake them.” 

You open the fridge door and he puts it on a shelf before coming back out and closing the door again. 

“Now how do we spend thirty minutes in a kitchen?” you ask, tilting your head with a smile, “waiting for the dough to chill?” 

Frankie raises one eyebrow, leaning back against the fridge door, giving you an amused look. 

“What did you have in mind, hermosa?” he replies as he reaches out and takes hold of your hand, pulling you towards him. 

“I was thinking…deep cleaning the oven,” you grin up at him as he wrinkles his nose, lips curling down in disappointment, “Maybe wiping out the shelves in the fridge? Or you can help me fix the blockage in the drain under the sink?” 

Frankie rolls his eyes so far back you think they’ll get stuck, but he’s grinning at the same time.

“Not really what I had in mind,” he says, both his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body and you bring your own arms up, cupping his cheeks and letting your thumbs caress his scruffy beard. 

“I love the little patches in your beard,” you say and lean closer, smelling the warm cotton of his t-shirt and a faint whiff of his body wash, “I especially like this one under your chin.” You make him tilt his head up as he chuckles, showing the smooth underside of his neck, freckles dotting the pebbled skin. His throat bobs as he swallows. 

“I’m glad you like ‘em,” he smiles, a small shiver running through him when you press your lips to the bare patch under his chin, “Because that’s as much beard as you’ll get from me.” 

It makes you giggle against the soft skin, the longer parts of his beard tickling your nose as you press more kisses along the underside of his jaw, keeping his head tilted back. His hands around your waist are starting to wander, slowly caressing up your back and down over your hips. A small, low sigh escapes him as you stand on your tiptoes, your mouth reaching the spot under his ear where you can feel his pulse beat. 

“Is this what you had in mind?” you ask, your voice low against the shell of his ear, his hands tightening around you. He gives you a small nod in response, lowering his head so that he can meet your eyes. He’s not smiling anymore, instead his look makes you wobble, curling your fingers around his shoulders for support. The peak of his cap nudges your forehead, closing both of you in under it, and as he moves closer, he reaches up and pulls it off. You hear it land softly on the floor next to you somewhere, but you’ve already closed your eyes as Frankie’s warm lips find yours. 

When you break apart your lips are hot to the touch, the soft scratches of Frankie’s beard tickling your skin, and the evidence of his growing need impossible to hide between your bodies. You can’t help but press closer against him, feel him jerk as your hip moves, a stifled groan caught in the back of his throat. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “let’s make those damn cookies so we can get out of here,” he’s tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you close to his mouth, his breath warm against your skin when he speaks, “Can we make it through dinner?” 

“I’m really not that hungry for food,” you whisper back, his lips trailing over your jaw as you speak, nibbling a wet path down your throat as his fingers gently pull at your hair, giving him more room to taste your skin. 

Another chunk of time is lost to his kisses. Every time he nips and licks at your throat, a moan escapes your open mouth, breathing heavily while you curl your fingers into his shoulders, moving down to his thick arms. 

“Frankie…” you mumble as his hands begin to slide up under your shirt, leaving warm trails across your torso, his kisses starting to move down over your clavicles as he pushes your collar to the side, “don’t start something you can’t finish here…” you warn him, but you do nothing to stop him. His rough palms grab at your flesh, pulling you closer, one last hot kiss, a mark on your skin, before lifting his head, his hands slipping down to your hips again. 

“You’re right, I don’t want to do this here,” he says, looking up at you with dark eyes, his lips rosy and pink, “Grab the dough, we making these fucking cookies now and then I’m taking you home.” 

You nod and reluctantly pull away from him as he moves to the side, letting you open the fridge door and retrieve the dough while Frankie gets a rolling pin. You watch him as he begins to roll out the dough, the muscles of his arm flexing as he presses down on the firm dough, forcing it to flatten onto the workbench. He’s focused as he works to roll it out to an even thickness, the tip of his tongue coming out in concentration as he gauges the dough with this hand.

“That’s enough, not too thin,” he says when he’s satisfied, “or the dough will break.” 

Together you use a cookie cutter on the dough and soon two trays of cookies slide into the oven under Frankie’s watchful eye. 

“We don’t want them to overbake, they should still be a pale color,” he says, closing the oven door and setting a timer on his phone. 

“Much as I’d like to get back to kissing you,” you smile at Frankie as he winks, “we should clean up so that  we can leave once they’re done.” 

“I’ll clean up, cariño,” he smiles back, “get the manjar and a piping bag and get us set up for the cookies.” 

You nod and do as he says, watching him as he efficiently wipes down the workbench and the counters, removing the leftover dough and putting away the ingredients. You fill the piping bag with the soft manjar and lean on the workbench while Frankie rinses the cloth and hangs it to dry. 

“Do you need a job, Frankie?” you ask, “I’d hire you in a heartbeat with those cleaning skills.” 

“One of the few good habits I picked up in the military,” he gives you a crooked smile as the timer goes off on his phone and he pulls out the cookies, “That and making beds with sharp corners. Nothing else good came out of those years.” 

A brief shadow passes his eyes as he puts the tray down, turning back to hand the oven mitts on their hook without meeting your eyes. When he comes back to the bench you put your arm around his waist and pull him into your side, pressing your lips to his cheek. He leans into it, his eyes briefly closing with a small contented sigh. 

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he says, “I don’t want to ruin this moment.” 

“Ok, Frankie,” you reply, your lips still close to his cheek, another kiss to his small bare patch there, and you see his smile return, his warm brown eyes finding yours again. 

“You’re on manjar duty, I don’t trust my piping skills. I’ll sandwich the cookies.” 

“Did your granny say anything about how much manjar each cookie should have?” you ask, picking up the piping bag. 

“About the same thickness as the cookie,” he replies, holding the first cookie steady for you, “There you go, perfect!” He grabs the cookie you’ve just piped the filling on and presses a second down on top before rolling it in desiccated coconut and holding it up proudly. 

“Our first alfajores cookie,” he chuckles, “I’m so proud of us.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you or your grandmother, Frankie” you smile at him, getting to work on the rest of the cookies. Frankie puts down the first one and starts assembling the rest.

“We make a good team,” he says, “and I can’t wait for you to try these, her’s are the best ones I’ve ever had.” 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to put the rest of the cookies together, with a flourish Frankie rolls the edges of the last cookie in the coconut and holds it out to you. 

“Go on, try it,” he says with a smile, picking up a second one for himself. The light and airy cookie crumbles as you bite into it, the manjar coating your mouth as you hum around the flavors. The hint of lemon in the cookie blends with the filling and it makes your mouth water. 

“So good, Frankie,” you mumble, your mouth still full and he chuckles, biting into his own a bit too eagerly. Manjar squeezes out around the sides and he quickly catches a blob with his tongue, his fingers coated in the sticky filling. 

“Damn, I should’ve remembered, I always make a mess eating these,” he laughs, tilting his head back to stop the cookie from falling out of his hand as he stuffs the whole thing into his mouth. With puffed out cheeks he grins down at you, chewing the cookie with a happy face. 

“As good as you remember?” you ask and he nods. 

“Even better,” he says, his voice garbled from the mouthful of alfajores and it makes you giggle as he swallows the whole thing down. His fingers are covered in manjar and he tries to lick it off, the sight of his pink tongue sliding over his index finger temporarily shutting down your brain as you stare at his mouth. Frankie’s eyes flick up to your face, seeing your expression, and slowly pulls his finger from his mouth. Holding it out to you, he gives you a mischievous smirk. 

“Here, try it.” 

There’s a challenge to his tone, daring you to step up to him and cross a very weak line in where this new relationship is. The sight of his thick fingers, smudges of manjar stil clinging to them, and his brown eyes going dark as they lock on to you, makes it an easy step to take. 

Your own hand wraps around his wrist as you pull his fingers towards your lips, Frankie’s jaw falling open of its own accord and his eyes drop to your mouth. His thumb has a dark streak of caramelized filling near the top and as you take it between your lips, your tongue tasting sugar and salt, he groans, louder than he intended in the quiet kitchen. From the corner of your eye you can see the hand hanging idly by his side twitching, the fingers opening and closing as another, lower, groan slips from him. Your tongue is wrapping around his thumb, closing your lips around it and sucking it deeper into your mouth. Frankie’s eyelids are heavy, threatening to close, but he fights to keep them open, starting at the way your mouth takes his thumb, images of other things disappearing between your lips making arousal thrum through his body. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

With a soft pop you pull off his thumb, gently wiping the corner of your mouth with tongue as Frankie inhales sharply. 

Three long steps and he’s got you pinned against the fridge, his hands suddenly on your waist and behind your neck. He bends his head, finding you eagerly waiting for his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips. He’s not hiding the way he’s grinding his hard on against your hips, your moans mixing with his breathy groans as you grab hold of his waist and pull him closer. With a growl he buries his face against your shoulder, his mouth hot against your neck. 

“Fuck….” he groans again, “You feel so fucking good, just put the damn alfajores away, we’re leaving now.” 

He pulls away a little, you can feel your face flushed as you press your legs together, heat shooting through every nerve ending. He’s caging you in now, his eyes dark under his furrowed brow, pressing a final heated kiss to your lips before he steps back, pulling you with him. 

“I’ll get a box for them,” you mumble, reluctantly moving away from him to the work bench. He bends to swipe his cap from the floor and shrugs back into his flannel shirt and watches you fold one of the take away boxes and pack the alfajores. 

“Grab leftover manjar too,” he suddenly says, pointing to the piping bag, still half full with the sticky filling, “I know other uses for it.” 

You look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and he winks at you, snaking his arms around your waist from behind before he bends his head to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he nips at your earlobe. 

“I’m thinking I’ve got other places that you might need to lick it from.”

Part Thirteen

Series Master List

A/N: I hope you enjoyed Frankie's visit to the bakery, I know I loved going back and writing my favourite Pedro boy.

But this is not the end because, as some of you have pointed out; a baker's dozen is thirteen, not twelve. So as this post goes up, I'll also put up a poll where everyone can vote for what Pedro boy they'd like to see return to the bakery, a second part to their story. Vote for your favourite to return!

The Poll!

In the meanwhile, thank you all for reading, commenting and sharing!

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  

[yumedoca]

"It's a rumic world!!"

Day 7 of @rumicworldweek - Happy Birthday Rumiko Takahashi!! 🎉

Sadly, no art for today since it seems I've hit an artblock after drawing for almost an entire week 😭, but to be fair everything drawn for this week was for sensei's birthday after all. I wanted to draw art for Mermaid Saga, One Pound Gospel and Rumic Theatre, but unfortunately there's only seven days in a week (though I have drawn art for Mermaid Saga like a week earlier and I have drawn an art for one of the Rumic Theatre stories months ago. Sorry One Pound Gospel, eventually!!) And plus, when it comes to topic of Rumiko Takahashi and her works, I decided to talk about it rather than draw...

Rumiko Takahashi... Honestly, all her works mean a lot to me. Each have it's own reasons, reasons why they're more than just mere stories to me. I guess it's mainly because of how good of a storyteller she is. Here's a little tidbit from her which may show why:

And boy, does it make me feel exactly how she wants it to. She knows what the reader looks forward to and she delivers just that while having fun. The amount of love and passion in her works in insane and the little details put to the story and characters are exactly what I love about her tales. Then there's the amount variety when it comes to her stories which I think is the most obvious when you pick up just one volume of the rumic theatre, one moment you're reading a hijinks story about a boy who just want to deliver newspapers but keeps getting interrupted by invaders and half- fishmen and the next moment you'll be reading a horror where this high school kid who knows archery is trying save his girlfriend from being murdered by his yandere cousin.

Honestly, just the amount of one shots she have is enough to prove how much as well as the number of chapters her serializations have is enough to show how much dedication and passion RT has for manga and this dedication is just what makes their quality so good. Urusei Yatsura makes me laugh and reminds me to have fun and enjoy life. Maison Ikkoku taught me about growing up. Mermaid Saga is a spine-chilling story which talks about the price of greed. Ranma 1/2 brings about the topic of familial love besides the romance itself. I've only watched the OVA for One Pound Gospel, but what intrigues me the most is the fact that the main pairing is a boxer and a nun, it's like the strangest pairing you could make but Kosaku and Sister Angela make it work and let's just say I love these kind of strange pairings, lol. Inuyasha talks about letting go from the past while still keeping the important within you. Kyoukai no RINNE is quite nostalgic to me as someone who grew up in a family who's very keen on saving money and a lot of moments make me laugh because I've been similar situations and it's nice to look back on them. And finally, MAO is the series I'm currently growing up with.

I know Rumiko Takahashi will never see this but.. Thank you so much for everything, your characters and stories managed to lift my spirits in the darkest of times and remind me that everything will eventually be okay. I know I'm not the only one who thinks this and all of what I've said is why I love Rumiko Takahashi and her stories.... ♥

I'm glad that I was able to participate in this year's Rumic World Week. Thanks to everyone who's liked and reblogged my posts and I hope everyone reading this has a great day ahead!! 🌹

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[socheckitout-mikey]

heya lovelies, these weren't requested, i'm just on a huge tlb kick atm and wanted to share some love for david! please enjoy and let me know what you think! - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

Disclaimer: THERE ARE 18+ PARTS IN THIS PIECE SO MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

TLB Dating David Hc's:

° Rest assured that dating David means that the journey will never be boring. You're guaranteed for the adventure of a lifetime (or multiple depending on how you look at it). The party never ends until the first rays of the dawn find their way into the cracks of the caved-in hotel he and the boys reside in (almost dare I say) religiously. He bids himself farewell in your sleepy haze, departing on an sudden icy wind that leaves you sitting up rigid with shock. Only to find that you are utterly alone, save for the seagulls shrieking up above and the lulling waves lapping against sea foam cliffs.

° But as soon as dusk settles upon the sunshine resort of Santa Carla, you'll find David having appeared by your side with the same kind of magic of Christ's Resurrection. Sure, you may ask him how he has done such a thing, but it's seldom that you'll get a straightforward answer that doesn't sound as though it's dripping with a whole new meaning of "Oh, I'm going to fuck with you for sure".

(I mean, you asked for it!)

"Oh, that old trick? It's called climbing flights of stairs." David quips, cocking his eyebrow as he lights up a smoke.

"You asshole, I know how to use the stairs- but I swear you-" you are cut off effortlessly by his charming, gritty laugh and the full intensity of his icy blue gaze, which renders you utterly powerless.

"Then why ask the obvious, kitten? I think someone needs to get their brain CAT scanned. Are you sure you don't have some form of early onset dementia?"

° David is a mysterious fella indeed. He doesn't let much ruffle his feathers unless given a valid reason. He's enigmatic with his charm, drawing in droves of curious people, but not many of them live to see the light of day ever again. A peculiarity you were awfully aware of at the beginning of it all.

° He felt someone's persistent eyes upon him, and out of curiosity, he looked up to find you. Now, love at first sight doesn't suit David, but he couldn't deny it: He at least felt something when he stared back at you. Enough to worm his way into your life with wild simpers and an abundance of flirtations. He uprooted your nightly schedule with a promise of escape and eternal youth.

° David's snarky cynicism can often be the cause of a hurt heart,- as he's learned very well throughout his very long life so far-. This is why it's a blessing that you're able to roll with the punches and even fend yourself against him with a playful attitude. He's very much amused when those kitty-claws come out and rake down his chest. He likes to have fun with you, and enjoys it even more when you're having fun with yourself. He'll let you off the hook... for the most part. But it is pretty difficult to actually insult him.

"Oh, isn't that just endearing? You're pawing me to death." David simpers with boredom through a thick jet of dragons' breath, before leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "Tell me something, when are those kitty claws actually coming out? I'm feeling a bit kinky tonight."

° Truthfully you never really will get to the end of his teasing tongue (in more than one way). David is mischievous, and is charismatic in the way he pushes those around him. You are no different, but with thick skin and a sharp tongue that mirrors his own, he cannot help but reward you. He enjoys keeping you on the very edge just for the sake of being a menace, which is more for his own entertainment than yours.

"Are we frustrated, kitten? Who would've thought you'd break so easily from a few touches and a few words..." he breathes in mock disappointment before an impish grin etches itself onto his features. In velvety tones he divulges, "Well, it's a good thing I'm good at piecing back together broken things. I think I might just rearrange you a bit first. Got any protests?"

"Fuck you!" You grit out.

"I'll start with that mouth first," he flashes a sultry grin before looming over you entirely.

° As much as you love this suave bastard, and he too loves you; it has become apparent that such a declaration verbally isn't really needed. Where David is good with his charming words, he feels that his actions also lend a "helping hand" when it comes to luring you into the fold as his partner. David lays claim over you more subtly than some of his other brothers, but said actions speak so loud that even outsiders can hear them as if they were screamed out at them.

° One thing is for certain; David isn't privy to the idea of sharing you with anyone. He is entirely selfish, wanting every part of you (warts and all) to himself. Does he admit this outwardly outside of yourself? No. But he does make it known.

° He has profound issues with jealousy, but unlike Paul and Marko, he's much like Dwayne: Settling scores when your back is turned. If someone is dumb enough to attempt flirting with you or trying to pick you up, David deals with them in fatal arrangements planned precisely in his head. You may notice the disappearances, or you may not. But either way, he's not letting up much.

"Who was that again? I haven't heard of them." He says in a nonchalant tone, but his eyes are biting, warning you to leave it be.

After all, he does this for a very good reason. It doesn't pertain to issues with his confidence. No, he's got buckets full of that. It's just the darkest parts of him have fully invited you in. There's no going back to a "normal life" when a vampire has fallen in love with you. His intent is to turn you- to be with you for eternity. It's just that simple.

° At the end of the night, the many trials and tribulations the pair of you have faced have made you stronger as a couple. From your fragile mortality being altered to the many hurdles you faced with fighting the hunters after The Boys - saving them. David does not know how to properly express his truest feelings through the process of words that aren't bitter or playful. So forgive him for the lack of them, but he also knows your true feelings too: He'd just rather them be shown or acted out.

° There is nothing better than whizzing chaotically through the impressive beams underneath The Boardwalk. To get lost in the night with such a thrill that makes your stomach lurch. Yet with each inhibition David pulls out of you only to guide you to throw into the wind, he's allured you further into damnation. You seem to mind such a thing much less now.

° There is a gentleness to the beast that skulks proudly under those garish lights of the Boardwalk. It is reserved solely for you. It does not disappoint as it protects you with vigilance and ensures your needs are met. Just do not thank the beast too profoundly, because it might just get you teased!

° A sucker for your touch, it's no wonder that David has you proudly lounging on his lap in public or in the cave. Sends out a very notifiable signal of, "Back off, she's mine!"

° However, what about the times when you manage to steal him away to far more intimate places, where it's just the two of you? Your bed, although a foreign concept to this roguish fiend who slept under bridges as a mortal, cannot deny deep down the feathery down tempts him. You lay there with him, either lazily making out or talking about many different topics of interest as the TV in the far corner croons on the summer breeze. You have all of his attention, none of his fellow brothers to chime in some hilarious one-liners to add to the chaos. It's just peace.

David cannot help but sigh blissfully, working his lips against your own. Lost at sea. He doesn't want to be found.

° Spontaneous dates of parking your butts on top of an old building or into the corner of an abandoned graveyard whilst you dig into a bottle of wine you stole from your parent's cellar has to be some of David's most favorite low-key dates.

"Look at Miss Goody-Goody stealing for little old me," he grins, admiring the good year on this particular wine bottle. It's a steal he will ensure is worthwhile. "Did you know that stealing is a sin, kitten?" He coos mockingly.

"So is stealing my soul, but you don't hear me complaining." You snicker, stealing the bottle from him. You uncork it and take a swig.

"Touche, kitten, touche." He grins as you hand him the bottle. "Now, you're not planning on curing me, now are you? I'm not a fan of Holy Water."

"If there was a cure for stupid then I'm sure you would be cured by now." You chuckle. "Besides, why would I waste Holy Water on you? You're past the point of saving."

"That I am, but I have to say... I'm going to make you regret everything else you said," he says testily.

"Oh, bite me, Dracula!" You stick your tongue at him.

You really shouldn't tempt him like that.

° Arguments between the pair of you make the air thick with hostility. Though thankfully they don't happen as easily outside of the cases of some broken trust, which isn't very easy to patch together. Like in other areas of his life, David is just as dominant when it comes to arguments. Your feisty attitude you spit back at him is like cobra venom doesn't help. It's cruel and harsh, leaving both hearts wounded and stubbornly locked away in some indestructible castle up a steep mountainside.

° Depending on the burns and wounds left behind, it may take several days for either of you to even look at each other. Avoiding is easier until one of you grows lonely. It takes further time to reconcile, but once it has been initiated, the hatchet is buried (for the most part).

° Don't plan on holding out for the word "sorry" from David. It seems to have escaped his vocabulary almost entirely. It's reserved for extreme circumstances, and even then he may hint at it, but not actually say it. You just need to get used to that. David will show his remorse in many other ways such as private moments stolen away with you where he seemingly allows you to lay in his arms (but he secretly initiated). He will adorn you with thoughtful gifts, words that are sweet by his standards and when he thinks you have fallen asleep, he may let his guard down enough to say, "I'm sorry,".

Just do not hold it over his head!

° You make one another feel on top of the planet. Heads dizzy with a fatal charm that cannot be hidden even to the outside world. David is charismatic and flirtatious as he sweeps you off your feet under the dark silhouette of his damned soul. Yet you are his salvation to the ride down to those fiery pits of damnation! You make him feel alive again, your fresh immortality irresistible as he goes through the new motions with you. Re-experiencing the rush of your first feed, your first flight and even your first kill for the hell of it.

° The pair of you will only get more twisted and wild as the eons drift on by.

° Where once he believed that being tied down to someone would hinder his nightly life that he was more than pleased about, David has come to realise something else: Having someone to share this lifestyle with who gets him even better than his brothers - someone that he can form a genuine romantic attachment to - is far better than the immortal bachelor lifestyle. You have proved yourself useful to him and he can never reward you enough for it.

° It's a good thing that he'll just show you.

° Your connection with David is profound and unmoving as it licks at haunches of dauntless stakes to be dodged - or in the case of David, antlers -. He would have no one else but you swoop in and save him from eternal loneliness as you embark on revenge against The Emerson's until you squash them one by one. What's more poetic than that?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[vshthestmpede]

Hi there!

Could we get some headcanons for vash, nick, and knives and what pet names they use for their s/o and how they would use them? Like in what situations they would use them? And what their s/o would call them in return?

Thank you 🫶🏻

the boys & their nicknames for their significant other

word count; 896

warnings; none, this is just some sweet stuff to alleviate the constant trauma our boys (and subsequently, we enjoyers) go through

note; i am such a damn sucker for cute nicknames, so this request was super fun to write!! tysm for requesting, i truly appreciate it <3 so sorry for the lack of things, covid has been kicking my butt lately on top of college ;-;

cross-posted to ao3

VASH

mayfly + lovebug

to make up for the lack of pda, vash makes sure you know how he cares by the way he calls for you

as soon as it starts, your real name is out the window and you're only to be called by the pet name he bestowed on you

you love the way it rolls off his tongue, like it was meant for you

started as a private thing as vash prefers to keep his love life under wraps but eventually became something he was proud to use in public amongst those he trusted

"good morning, mayfly."

you stretched the sleep out of your joints, blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight. vash had himself propped up on his forearms, twirling your hair around his fingers gently.

"sleep well?" he asked as you turned on your side to face him. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead as you nodded. "good. we don't have to leave for another hour or so, wanna snuggle?"

you responded by pulling him closer to you, burying your face in his chest. he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers lazily drawing shapes into your back.

"how'd you sleep, lovebug?" you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

vash grinned. "lovebug, hm? that's new."

you shrugged and readjusted, looking up at him. "well i thought with mayfly i needed to come up with something similar."

"fair enough, i like it." vash chuckled. "very creative. i slept okay, had a weird dream though."

"is that so? tell me all about it."

WOLFWOOD

my star + handsome

you never took wolfwood to take to romance or any of the cheesy aspects of being in a relationship

however, being a man who wasn't given any real love growing up, he craved it more than anything

of course, he'd never show it to the other three, so things like nicknames were saved solely for time between the two of you

you savored those times, enjoying the softer side of the undertaker

he would tell you how there were billions of stars in the sky yet only you were his, the brightest and most dazzling in his eyes

you pounded on the bathroom door, fed up. "c'mon, princess, i'm sure you look amazing now open the damn door!"

the door swung open and nicholas, hair still wet and messy, gave you the coldest stare behind his sunglasses.

"the hell did you just call me?" he asked, blocking you from moving past him. "no, no, no. you've never called me any sort of name before and now you just -"

"i'll keep calling you it if you don't let me use the damn bathroom," you snapped back, grabbing his arm and literally pulling him out of the bathroom. "thank you!"

coming out of the bathroom after finishing your business, you held back a laugh when you found nicholas sitting on the edge of the bed with his lips pressed into a tight frown. you flopped on the bed next to him, pulling him down with you.

"oh my gosh." you laughed as he turned away from you with a small 'hmph'. "c'mere, handsome."

instantly, he melted into your embrace, clearly much more pleased with the new nickname.

"that's better," he murmured.

"you're such a big softie," you chided playfully, brushing his hair from his face. "never change, okay?"

"yes, my star."

KNIVES

sunshine + sweetheart

if you thought it would take knives forever to even acknowledge the feelings you two shared, just imagine how long it took for him to take up on any sort of romantic gesture

you were at the helm in this voyage, showing him acts of affection first to egg him on

quickly you both learned he wasn't the biggest on physical touch but definitely enjoyed the whole concept of nicknames, something that made you stand above the rest even more to him

despite that, he found himself fighting on what he thought would fit you perfectly

you had cycled through the generic ones (babe, baby, etc.) but decided that sweetheart was the winner the way a goofy, almost childlike smile appeared on his face when you called him it the first time

knives refused any help on coming up with your nickname, demanding he figure it out himself

"i've got it!"

your head snapped up from your book as the piano playing suddenly ceased and knives stood, knocking the bench over at his abrupt movement.

"are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked, pushing yourself up out of your chair and heading towards him. he met you halfway, taking your hands in his excitedly. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"you're my sunshine, (name)."

he had said it so happily, staring right in your eyes as he declared his newly thought of nickname. you felt your heart race at the simple gesture and the look on his face, basking in the joy that radiated off of him.

"i love it." your hands moved from his up to cradle his face. "what made you think of sunshine?"

knives leaned into your hand, proud of himself. "you just. . .you light up my life. you're so warm and caring, it's like you're if sunshine was a human."

your heart swelled at his kind words, this soft and sweet side of knives - albeit rare - was something you treasured and would always hold close to your heart.

[vdoesstuff]

Fic #27

"Land hoy!"

"Luffy, its land ho," Sanji corrected, taking a long drag.

"Yeah, that!" Luffy yelled, jumping down from the crows nest and bouncing off the deck. Sanji rolled his eyes. It was too early in the morning for this. The Sunny approached the island, and Sanji got a good view. Mountains touched the sky, tops frosted with snow.

"Ok. Before we go on the island, there's something you all need to know," Chopper began, walking around the table, passing out water bottles. He had called them for an emergency meeting before they went on the island. "This island has a very high elevation. We spend most of our time at sea level, so going from an elevation of 0 feet to an estimated 9,000 can make you seriously sick." A concerned face from Usopp. "Nothing fatal," Chopper measured him. "But not very fun. The best way to stave off the elevation sickness," he said, holding up his water bottle. "Is to drink lots and lots of water. Everybody has a full water bottle, and there are streams on the island where you can refill. Of course, being from an island with higher elevation myself, I will be much less affected, along with Zoro, Franky, and Nami. Their home islands all had elevations above 6,000 feet, so they should be much less affected." Franky pumped his fist in triumph.

"Take that, elevation sickness!" He did a small victory dance.

"Sanji, you should be very careful though, Chopper warned. " You spent most of your life at a 0 foot elevation. The change will affect you the most, its a very big jump from what your body is used to!" Sanji waved the advice aside.

"I'll be fine, it can't be that bad, right?"

Luffy ran into the island, rocketing himself onto one of the mountains. With one more reminder to drink water, they were off. Luffy bouncing around, exploring with Franky, Chopper, Brook, and Usopp staying on the ship, and Zoro, Sanji, and Robin helping Nami map the island out.

Nami set up her portable drawing board, measuring the angles of the mountains, putting them on paper with unnerving accuracy. The others stayed guard, either looking for food or people. The hours passed. They found no signs of life, but plenty of edible native plants. Just in time, too. Luffy had gone through about half the pantry in the past week.

Sanji started to feel lightheaded. He took a sip of water, remembering what Chopper had said. It made sense, it would be the biggest jump for him. Even before he set out to sea, Germa had a pretty low elevation. He drank more water. He felt dizzy and nauseous.

"Sanji, are you okay? You look rather pale," Robin said, a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said. "I think the elevation's just getting to me a little bit."

"I can walk you back to the ship if you'd like?" Robin offered.

"No, it's fine, I'll stay here, I-" Sanji was cut off by Zoro lifting him up over one shoulder. "Mosshead. What the fuck are you doing."

"Taking you back to the ship. No point in you staying here and being miserable," Zoro said, walking down the mountain. He looked over his shoulder at Nami. "I'll be back, just taking this idiot down to the Sunny."

"Take your time," Nami said, not even looking up from her work. Sanji kicked and struggled against Zoro's grasp.

"Idiot mosshead, put me down!"

"No."

Sanji eventually gave up halfway down the mountain. It might actually be best for me to go back down, Sanji thought to himself. In all honesty, he didn't really feel very well. He felt tired and queasy. He hated to admit it, but at one point, he fell asleep in Zoro's arms. When he woke up, the Sunny was in sight. Zoro carried him all the way to the kitchen, and once he was sure wasn't going to make a break for it he set him down in a chair and gave him a slice of bread.

"Marimo, what's this?"

"Carbs help," Zoro explained. "Bread is a carb. Eat up, bitch." Zoro reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of his favorite sake. Sanji took a bite out of the bread. Zoro walked towards Sanji, leaning forward to gently kiss him on the forehead. "Now feel better got it?" Sanji felt his face heating up.

"O-ok," Sanji said. Zoro left the room, taking the bottle of sake with him.

-----------------------

I went to Montana and got elevation sickness bc I went from an elevation of nine (9) feet to like 8,700ish, inspiring this fic. Yay!

Fr tho, elevation sickness sucks, please drink water, carbs like crackers and bread also help 👍

Also I just got my black belt in Taekwondo so I'm celebrating by writing a fic lol

MY MOTIVATION IS BACK, BITCHES WHOOOO

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.3

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

21st April

Barcelona, Spain

"Wished I could travel around again, like when I was a kid.. haven't done that in years."

Cassandra heaved a sigh and sat back at the bench in parc de la Ciutadella. Trying her best to shield her eyes from the sun that still flared from in between the trees. Preventing her from drawing properly.

She needed that little distraction from all the medical things. It had been an intense week once again at the hospital and that was one of her favourite spots.

"Around the world like you do, you know?" Her lips pressed into a thin line as she peeked at Taehyung who was sitting beside her, sunk into his seat and legs widely spread in front of him. Untamed raven hair hanging into his eyes behind round sunglasses. "Okay, maybe not exactly like you do," she laughed under her breath, "But still, I'm quite envious of you for that."

"It's not as much fun as you imagine it though.." he chuckled while mindlessly observing a group of tourists gathering in front of the impressive fountain in the park. The song on the playlist sitting between them faded and a soft piano melody began playing instead.

"Sure, having to be on the run from interpol probably takes the fun out of it but.." She dragged a breath. "It's still better compared to being stuck at one place."

Cassandra often liked to pretend the job didn't phase her too much, especially since not even a full year had passed of her officially practicing it. She tried keeping a professional distance to the patients and even her colleagues, with the exception of Stella. Sometimes it was easier, sometimes not. She wasn't sure which path was the right approach yet. She hoped with practice there would come knowledge.

The only thing she knew was that day hadn't been one of the great ones. Not only because of the tantrum by her assistant colleague Pavlo, a big sleazy jerk who definitely wasn't made for any profession that required contact to sick humans, but even before that. That was why she was thankful for Taehyung randomly showing up that day. Waiting for her at the ER entrance as always. 

She didn't say it out loud, but his random visits were always a welcoming break from the monotony of her daily life. And she appreciated them. Even if they were usually for just one day. It was the one day she looked forward to the most, despite never knowing when it'd come and if it'd ever come again. Because being friends with someone like him had the disadvantage of having little to no contact the rest of the time.

Still, even if not much, the time they got to spend together always reminded her how exciting and fun that city could be. With the right company at least. It reminded her there was a life outside of the hospital.

Taehyung looked at her, pensively. He never realised how hard her job must've been and he gave her an empathetic pout. "Stuck.. that bad, huh?"

She sucked on the little rest of her melon lollipop before throwing the plastic stick into the bin next to her. "Sometimes, yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"There's not really much to talk about.. but thanks." A weak smile graced her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. Truth was she'd have liked talking about it with someone but couldn't because a) medical confidentiality and b) it was a sad story and she didn't want to dump it all onto him. They might be friends, oddly enough for some, but she didn't want to scare him off with all her emotional baggage.

Amyloidosis. Why on earth would a seven-year-old have that?

Her heart clenched just remembering it.

"Well, I know a place that might distract you at least." His cheery voice caused her to perk up with curiosity, watching him pausing the music to shove the phone into his pockets. 

"Really? What place?"

He flashed her a grin filled with mischief and promise before standing up. Motioning for her to follow. "You'll see."

Whenever he'd come to Barcelona before meeting Cassandra it was mainly for a job, a layover or to lay low when interpol was on their tail. However, he'd still got around a fair amount of times and there was a small tapas bar in the basement of a narrow alley that he liked a lot. It wasn't nearby, but she looked like needing good food and a drink right now.

Intrigued, the coppery-haired girl packed her drawing utensils and swung her tote bag over her shoulder before following him out of the park to his parked car. Perhaps she shouldn't be so trusting of a thief she'd not even spent two handful of days together and yet she was. Finding herself heading west in his car when they stopped at a red light.

He let his long fingers absentmindedly drum to the soft beat playing on the radio while waiting. Humming along to it. 

Cassandra got curious to where he was bringing her to and attempted to ask after all, but faltered when she watched him slid off the sunglasses. Using them to push back his hair that was unrulingly covering his vision due to a spring blow coming from the cranked down window. She took in his musing eyes and the soft edges of his features. Skin shining in a warm undertone, much warmer than hers in the city's afternoon glow.

"Traffic's unbearable," he sighed then and turned to her, catching her gaze already resting on him.

Her long eyelashes fluttered and she looked away to the lines of cars in front of them. "I-it's because of roadwork at the ring road. Everyone's detouring."

"Ah," he replied with a bashful smile. Seeing vehicles at the front moving then, much to his relief. And he prepared switching gears when an unexpected whistle made him grow stiff.

"Well, well, well.. who do we have here!"

That seething voice instantly triggered his memory and made the blood in his veins freeze. He internally cursed, glancing to his left. His eyes recognising that sleazy lopsided grin from its source. It was one of the goons he owned his wounded arm last year to.

The man, not much taller than him and surely not smarter, was leaning against a street lamp, a half-lit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he pushed himself off. The grin widening in a threatening mannor as he took the butt from between his teeth and tossed it to the ground, glance never leaving his.

Taehyung's jaw clenched and he faced Cassandra with concern. Meeting her already inquiring look. 

"Cas, buckle up and hold tight. Okay?" He expected her to pelt him with questions but instead, she just nodded and sank lower into her seat. Gripping her seatbelt tightly.

"Hey, I think we still got to settle an outstanding score!" the guy sneered then. Preparing to make his way over to them when thankfully the cars in front of them disappeared. And he  instantly shifted gears, flooring the gas. 

The thug shouted after them in anger and Taehyung knew this wasn't over. Catching a glimpse of the man in the rareview mirror, waving over another one before getting into the red car parked besides them.

"I'm sorry, Doc, I think we have to postpone it." His face turned apologetic as he navigated himself through the busy streets. "I'll stop somewhere so you can -" The sentences was left unfinished as a loud pang! echoed and next thing he noticed was the side-mirror, cracked into tiny pieces. "Fck."

Cassandra's eyes grew. Staring at him with bewildered bambi eyes. "Was that a bullet?"

"I fear so."

Quietly, she folded her lips and sunk even lower into her seat. "Damn, so that's what it's really like to hang out with you, huh cool guy?" she joked and he glanced at her, astonished.

There was mild concern on her face, paired with irritation in her eyes. But he realised they lacked fear or panic. She wasn't terrified like most people would be in that situation. It seemed nonsensical, almost comically absurd. And he chuckled under his breath.

"Sometimes, yeah. Keep your head tucked down, okay?" He shot her a smile before sliding out the gun from his waistband underneath his loose-fitted shirt and she nodded vigorously.

Cocking the magnum he glanced over his shoulder, spotting the red car nearing them fast. It was only a couple of vehicles behind them. In that moment, someone leaned out of the passenger window and Taehyung instantly sat back again. Shifting to a higher gear and taking a sharp turn into another street, earning loud honks and curses from two other drivers. With the advantage of the new angle, he fired a couple of shots himself. Each one piercing the red car's front tyres and eventually causing it to come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street.

He drifted to the next side-street, heading for the exit to the ring rode highway in the north then. There was no time to think themselves safe, though, with the piercing sound of multiple bullets hitting his car's trunk. And he saw two motorbikes following them in the rearview mirrow.

"Would you do me a favour?"

Cassandra arched a brow at his apologetic smile. "W-what favour?"

"Hold the steering wheel for me - just for a few seconds. Can you do that?"

"W-what? Why?"

He sighed. "I might be a great marksman, but I can't shoot behind me while also driving."

"I can't drive though! I don't have a license." Taehyung stifled a laugh, finding it ironic that only now she chose to panic and that over something, in his opinion, minor.

"Just keep the car on the road for five seconds, that's all." He gave her an reassuring smile and Cassandra gulped. Eventually agreeing, not having much of a choice after all when another bullet hit their car. So she leaned over and gripped the steering wheel, holding it tightly. Thankfully not many cars were in front of them on the highway. 

Five seconds. Just five seconds, she kept telling herself as Taehyung turned in his seat and with a deadly precision aimed and hit the motorbikes' tyres. The vehicles along with their passengers stumbling and collapsing to the ground. And he quickly took the steering wheel back.

"Good girl," he grinned at her proudly. Cassandra feeling her cheeks heating up at his affirmation. She peeked at him then as she straightened in her seat, "Your aim is quite impressive." He could've aimed at the passengers - it must have been easier - but he still chose to only shoot the tyres. She noticed that.

He mumbled an embarrassed 'thanks' before clearing his voice. "You know the city well, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Alright, do you know any abandoned area close by?"

Cassandra sat back, thinking hard as she chewed on her lips while trying remembering anything.

There was the forest and mountains, but they couldn't be reached well by car.

"Ah, remember I said one of the main roads is closed due to constructions? It's a big stretch of the road. That part should be pretty abandoned save for the warehouses close by."

He nodded, trusting her words. They didn't have much time to come up with an alternative now anyway as a third bike had appeared in the distance. "Lead the way."

"Take the next exit," she instructed him an they headed east. No vehicles around them as they left the main road segment. Soon encountering the roadblocks in the distance with the construction area behind it. He took a sharp turn, sliding down from the road and towards the block of grey warehouses beside it to park the car behind one.

"Go to the backseat and stay low, got it?" he instructed and before her lips could even part in protest, he had already left.

With a huff Cassandra shuffled and did as she'd been told. Unable to contain her curiosity, however, she dared to peep out a few times. Trying seeing if she could catch a glimpse of anything.

She didn't.

He had probably headed towards the construction area. Keeping the action as far away from her as possible hence why he'd hidden the car there. So she sat back down, bringing her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her angled legs and waited.

It felt like an eternity passed and she was unable to hear anything, assuming there was indeed no one around. And she began to feel stupid. Wonderung if he had perhaps left her there altogether. He hadn't struck her like such a person, but as she got out of the car and looked around the empty area, her heart sank in disbelief.

Had he really just left her there in the middle of nowhere? No. No way.

Puffing out her breath, she started walking out of the warehouses towards the main road. Determind to walk all the way back to the city if needed when her eyes caught a black car and a motorcircle parked at the construction area in the distance. And she abruptly paused in her tracks, quickly retreating behind the wall of a warehouse to observe. 

There were several people standing around the escavated area. Shouting incoherent words to each other. Then suddenly another person appeared behind one of the construction vehicles and shot at them, hitting one of the men on both shins in the matter of a single second before disappearing again. Two others quickly ran away then to jump behind a pile of gravel next to a hole. Shooting at the vehicle now.

They stood so far away that the gunshots sounded like faint plopping noises.

The other man's head popped up again and that was when she caught a better look on him - it was Taehyung. Clearly. She should've known from his aim. He shot at a cargo net hanging from a crane, causing it to cut in an instant and the cargo dropping right next to the two men. Cracking open and heavy bags falling onto them, burying them.

Cassandra held her breath. Seeing her friend then coming out from his stash to examine his work and she decided to check the situation out herself. There was a guy with clear gunshot wounds wailing on the ground and Taehyung might've also been injured, she had to.

In the meantime, Taehyung dragged out the unconscious guys from underneath the bags. Dropping the last one's arm, he wiped over his forehead with the back of his hand. It was exhausting but he knew he couldn't leave them underneath. Surely the cops would soon be there, taking care of the rest. All that was left for him was to tie them up just in case they decided to come back to their senses earlier than he wished.

He grabbed a rope wrapped around a pipe then, beginning to tie it around their wrists and ankles when a dull noise echoed behind him and he turned around in alert.

He saw one of the men he thought were unconscious, kneeling down on the ground and holding his head, wincing. And above him stood Cassandra with a shovel, panting heavily. She caught Taehyung's surprised glare then, flashing him a grin.

"He was creeping up on you."

His lips parted, ready to scold her for leaving the stash but before he could properly react, a flashing from the direction of the cars caught his attention and he shoved her behind a stack of logs. A shot ringing through the air the second they hit the sandy ground.

Her round eyes stared at him startled as he was towering over her with a stern look. The tips of their noses a breath away from brushing against each other. 

Cassandra had noticed the tiny moles on his face before. The one under his eyelashes, the one on the round tip of his nose, the one at the edge of his full lips. But it was only with the close proximity of it almost touching hers that she really saw them, taking them all in. And her breath hitched when catching his eyes skimming over her features, too.

Taehyung's chest rose and fell against hers. He swallowed, holding her gaze a second longer and almost getting completely lost in the depths of her irises' warm gradient, when another shot rang above them. And he quickly retreated and propped himself back up. The small golden pendant usually hidden underneath his shirts, slipped out and dangled in the air between them.

He grabbed his revolver from where it had fallen next to them, taking the empty capsules out and filling new bullets in before aiming the magnum at the direction of the shortly joined cars. Shooting at the backup the others must've called beforehand. He stroke the shooters with one bullet each despite the long distance, hearing a series of yelps until the last one was down.

And Cassandra silently studied him from where she was still laying on the ground. His usually gentle almond eyes, sharp and hard as they were focusing on their target. Arms flexing with every recoil.

In that moment she indeed believed he looked like the coolest guy she knew.

She didn't notice the ringing in her ears from all the firing. Only when she saw his outstretched hand towards her, she realised it had ended and she grabbed it, heaving herself up.

Brushing off the dirt from her uncovered legs, when the distinctive sound of sirens shrilled in the distance. And the two exchanged an alarmed glance. "To the car!" 

They began running over the uneven construction area, the warehouses in close sight when Cassandra suddenly felt the ground beneath her feet shifting and giving in. She tripped in an unwary moment and the next thing she knew, she tumbled down an excavated hole.

"Cas!" Taehyung yelled out. Not wasting a second before skillfully sliding down himself to check on her.

She groaned in pain as her limbs had tried to absorb the shock, but she still attempted staying up from the gravel. Biting back a hiss then when a piercing ache crossed her senses, forcing her to pause. And she sank back down. The skin on her legs and hands burning.

"Your leg," Taehyung muttered then as he knelt down. Cassandra furrowed her brows, not understanding what he meant only to see her right knee being covered in blood. The graze quite big and deep, burning like hell along with all the other abrasions. And a persistent pain in her ankle.

"Is it serious? Can you move your leg?" Taehyung asked with concern in his voice.

"Sure I can I jus- ouch!"

"So that's a no. Is it broken?"

"No, I can still move it -" She winced at her anew attempt. She could move it indeed, it was just very painful. "It's most likely just sprained."

It was quite ironic. Of course the only way for her to actually get injured was by tripping and falling. Not bullets or anything. How embarrassing. She felt like an utter nuisance. All she wanted was to help and instead she was a burden.

Much to her astonishment, she watched him turn around and scrunch down in front of her then.

"Get on."

"Huh?"

"We got no time to spare, just get on," he commanded and she gulped at his serious tone, making her guilt only grow. She quickly obeyed, wrapping her arms aroung his neck and allowing him to hook his hands around her knees to lift her up. 

The hole thankfully wasn't too deep, but nevertheless steep and walking it back up with another person on his back definitely wasn't an easy task. They didn't have any other option though, the sirens drew nearer. The police probably on the highway parallel to this road, soon reaching the exit and them, so they needed to hurry. And she was clearly not in the state to climb up on her own.

Cassandra was holding onto him tightly. Feeling bad for Taehyung having to carry her back to the car in a piggyback ride. Afraid she was too heavy for him despite the firm grip on her legs so she squeezed them tighter against his waist not to slip out.

Reaching the car in no time, he placed her down onto the passenger seat with a deep set crease between his brows. Rushing to the driver's side then and engaging a gear, he rushed the car out from the warehouses and onto a field road, towards the direction of a side road leading back to the highway.

"How - how bad is it?" His face was guilt-driven as he glanced at her, redirecting his focus onto the road then. "Where's the next hospital? We need to get it treated."

"No, don't worry. It's nothing serious. Just need to bandage and cool it at home." Cassandra only waved him off with a wary smile. Much to Taehyung's growing frustration. He only frowned, brows furrowing with reasonable doubts. "Home? I should bring you to a doctor!"

"I am a doctor," she pointed out, earning an eye-roll from him.

"And you can patch up yourself?"

"Uh, yeah why not?"

"Cas, I'm getting you a doctor. Another doctor."

"No, you won't," she retorted, persisting, "It's honestly nothing severe and they won't be able doing anything but bandage the wound and tell me to cool the ankle and keep it lifted, anyway. Trust me."

Dragging out a breath he gave in. Not thinking he'd be able winning any argument with her persistent stubborness and an attitude comparable to a child's 'so what?' mindset.

"How did this even happen? I just looked away for a second.." he mumbled then, more to himself than her really. He was driving at speedlimit, trying his best not to overdo it as they didn't need the police's attention right now.

Cassandra could only face him with an sheepish grin. "Well, there's a reason I became an internist and not a surgeon. I'm clumsy as hell, if you haven't noticed yet." She tried joking, hoping to lighten the mood.

At least she could laugh about it, he thought. His stern expression mitigating, breathing out a chuckle himself over her self-irony.

Now that she mentioned it, he'd indeed noticed her left-handed behavior at times. Dropping things, hitting her limbs, tripping.. There was always a random bruise adorning some place on her skin.

"Yeah, I surely wouldn't want to get operated by you," he deadpanned then making her audibly gasp before breaking into a fit of giggles. And he exhaled, shaking his head as his lips formed a crooked smile. "You're something.. you know that?"

She huffed, folding her arms. "Something good I hope." 

He smirked, almost missing the right turn. "Always."

Eventually reaching her street with no patrol cars in sight, he parked a bit further away from her building just in case and helped her out of the car. Offering his hand which she gladly accepted. Watching her hobble out since she was still unable to properly bend her right foot.

"Let me help you." His voice was low, almost a whisper and he took her hand, wrapping her arm around his shoulder before hesitatingly placing his hand around her waist.

Cassandra didn't object, putting her pride aside as she undoubtedly needed a little assistance and so he led her down the sparsely illuminated narrow pavement.

It was barely past 9pm, but the sun had set already. The only other additional light being the blue flickening of tv screens coming from behind closed balcony doors. 

Taehyung kept internally cursing while supporting her limping self. His grip around her waist getting firmer as his other hand squeezed her fingers which were hanging from his shoulder. "Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.. I should've paid more attention."

"Seriously, Tae, don't let it get to you," Cassandra countered with an reassuring smile, not wanting him to feel bad for her own mistake.

She had been used to things like this happening. Random cuts and bruises without exactly knowing where they came from. It was normal to her. Though, admittedly, such a large wound along with a strain was a new level she'd reached, but it was still her own doing.

Something Taehyung didn't seem to accept so easily though, as she only earned a mildly irritated huff and scowl from him. 

In his opinion, she was way too laid back for someone with a large open wound on her knee, scratched and bleeding, and a strained if not broken ankle that made her unable to properly walk without flinching. He suspected her to be downplaying it and pretending not being in pain for his sake. However, it was quite evident by the way her jaw clenched and she bit down on her tightly pressed lip whenever she turned her face away, thinking he wouldn't see.

Perhaps she was also just as prideful and stubborn as he was.

He led her out of the elevator, down the hallway towards her apartment's door and after she fiddled with the keys for what felt like a minute, doing so with only one hand proving harder than she thought, she managed pushing it open and he hurried her inside and to where she pointed the bathroom was at.

Taehyung let her take a seat on the small bathtub's edge then. One foot on the blue rug while the injured leg was stretched out along the bathtub so she could inspect the wound better. Good thing that wounds and blood always fascinated her, made that workfield much easier.

The dried blood covering her shin, got cleaned first with the water jet of her shower. It was surely just a flesh wound.

However, it was still rather extensive. If she had been wearing long pants it might've been prevented, but her shorts hadn't provided any kind of cover when she'd stumbled down the gravel and asphalt.

"My emergency kit is under the sink, could you fetch it for me?" she asked, eyes too focused on inspecting the wound to look at him.

He quickly obeyed, handing her over the blue box and watched her opening it like a mechanic would open their toolbox. All kinds of supplies inside. Gauze, rash creams, small brown bottles of oitments and bigger, clear bottles he couldn't really identify.

"Pledget," she suddenly ordered, stretching her hand and Taehyung only eyed her with an amused smile over her unusual bossy tone.

Confused about the lack of acknowledgment, she glanced at him before her eyes widened. Giggling embarrassed at herself when rememering she wasn't in the hospital but her own bathroom. "Sorry, force of habit. Behind the mirror I store pledgets. And in the bottom drawer I have a small wash cloth. Please wet it and give them to me."

He smirked before he picked everything in her list. "Anything else I can assist you with, Doc?"

"No, that's all for now, nurse," she smirked back as she accepted the pledgets and the cloth from him. Beginning cleaning the wound from the dirt and tiny particles and trying her best not to wince with every touch of the wet fabric on her open skin. And Taehyung pitied her. Still feeling like all this was in some way his fault, no matter how much she denied it.

He grabbed the cloth from her then and Cassandra was about to object when she watched him kneel down in front of her. Silently taking over in cleaning the wound. Flustered, her breath halted for a moment when his fingers gently prushed over her shin to keep her leg steady.

"Y-you don't have to."

"I know."

And she folded her lips, leaving him work in silence. When he deamed the wound to be free from any foreign material, he put the cloth away and glanced up at her in anticipation. "What now?"

She swallowed before offering him a smile. Motioning with her chin to the blue box. "There's a disinfectant spray. Spray some on a pledget to disinfect it."

He hummed with a nod and she observed him follow her instructions. Both growing quiet again until she flinched at the disinfectant's cold burning. His hand gently pressed her leg back down, holding it in position. "Almost done," his voice soothed her, quietly demanding for her not to move. And Cassandra bit the inside of her lips, nodding. Not only her wound tingling, but every fibre of skin covering her body was. Like fizzy powder being sprinkled all over it.

"N-next use the cream saying 'dexpanthenol'."

His concentrating brows furrowed while he spread the cream. And Cassandra had to look away.

Dammit, she thought and closed her eyes. Why was it suddenly so warm in there?

She felt like melting into a puddle right into the tub.

Before she even realised, he had began to wrap gauze around her knee. "Tell me if it's too tight." His usually chesty voice hollow now, his mind preocuppied with racing thoughts. Almost missing her cough out a hum as she was still unable to form coherent sentences.

Cassandra had been so used to be the one taking care of others, especially physically, that having someone who wasn't her parents or grandparents, taking care of her felt not only strange and unusual, but also oddly pleasant. And she smiled gently.

"Thank you." Now she just needed to rest and cool the ankle.

Taehyung nodded only, packing everything he had used back into the blue box.

"Least I could do, really," he sighed then, a rueful smile tucked on the corner of his lips, "I'm sorry, Cassandra, I -" He looked down to the blue rug he was sitting on. "I guess it was foolish to make you hang out with someone like me. Should've known it was a bad idea."

A frown nestled onto her features hearing his words and she slid her leg down from the bathtub, sitting properly now. "You didn't 'make' me, Taehyung. I hang out with you because I want to. Because I like hanging out with you."

Glancing up at her briefly with a raised brow, he quickly shook his head. She said it so matter-of-factly, but it felt undeserved.

"Even after today?"

"Especially after today. And besides, you told me to stay in the car and I didn't listen.." She sighed, averting her irises in shame. "So I'm the sorry one."

"Right, but I should've known you wouldn't listen," he shrugged nonchalantly, "It was to be expected really."

She huffed out a puzzled laugh. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Taehyung grinned, flickering a finger on her forehead with a chuckle. Cassandra flinched at the unexpected gesture, rubbing the spot with a whine.

"It means that you, Cassandra, are curious, impatient and defiant like a child. So of course you wouldn't listen."

His words had the potential to offend or hurt someone, but the tender expression on his features let her know of their affectionate nature. They weren't meant anything but teasingly, he wasn't actually scolding her. Yet, she couldn't help but pout.

"Besides," he said then and lifted himself, standing in front of her now, "If you hadn't knocked off that guy with the shovel, you might've been the one treating me again instead. So if anything, I owe you."

Frankly, it didn't make sense to Taehyung that she was apologising when she'd have had all the right to yell and cuss at him for endangering her.

Why wouldn't she throw him out of her flat already? Why wasn't she terrified or scared?

Now that he thought about it, she hadn't been before either.

When the shooting began, a little, but after that? She had been rather composed. More than most civilians would've been in her position. And it confused him even more, but it also impressed him.

"Weren't you scared at all?" he wondered then, eyes dropping with a pensive look, "You could've been injured more severely than this."

Cassandra was buffled for a moment but seemed to understand what he was hinting at and her doe eyes became even rounder, contemplating his words.

Yeah, she should've been terrified. But she wasn't. And hadn't been. Why?

He watched her pushing herself off the tub, attempting to stay up. Carefully, she eventually managed standing on one foot while the injured one lightly touched the ground for balance. Her brown eyes radiating warmth at her following words.

"I wasn't, no. You were there after all, so I didn't have a reason to. I knew you'd protect me. And you did."

His lips parted, startled. "I, I see.." He coughed in an attempt to mask his flushed smile. He hadn't expected that.

She trusted him. She trusted him enough not to be scared. The thought made him irrationally proud.

"I mean," she chuckled then, trying being casual about it, "You didn't lie, your shooting skills are pretty mad. I'm impressed."

He huffed, scratching the back of his neck as his other hand automatically went to the gun in the back of his waistband. "Ah yeah?" he smirked for a brief moment before his lips pressed into a thin line again. "Cas, seriously now though. Why aren't you mad at me? Why would you.. still want to spend time with me?"

"Told you already."

He sighed in frustration, unsure if she simply didn't get it or pretended not to. "You know what I mean. You're a doctor, a good person. You help others. You literally save lives, while I.. I don't do any of that. I'm a literal criminal. Sure, not as ruthless or devious as most.. but still a criminal. A bad guy."

His bubble, it was bursting. He could feel it. The bubble he kept escaping to that past half a year. The little delusion of feeling normal he had clinged to.

Cassandra remained silent, her stern gaze staying on Taehyung's despite him looking away. Blame written all over his gentle features and in a way, the way he perceived himself ached her more than the strain. Especially since she knew him and his friends weren't ordinary criminals. 

And it also upset her, the way he portrait her. Placing her on a pedestral. As if she was a perfect being who couldn't do any wrong.

"Just because I'm a doctor I'm not a saint, and you ain't a demon for being a thief."

The firmness in her voice made him perk up, eyes keen to prove him wrong.

"Come, I need to show you something," she said then and gently tugged him by the wrist.

Wordlessly, he let her hold onto his forearm as she led him with small steps across the hallway into what turned out to be the living room.

She turned on a lamp in the far corner, illuminating the space.

The room was as organised as Cassandra's thoughts, every piece of furniture and decor at its place neatly. A flat-screen on the wall and in front of it a broad sofa stuffed with soft pillows and colourful plushies, and underneath the dark coffee table, a carpet of bright but soothing colours. The window big beside it, with several smaller to medium-sized plants lining up on the windowsill.

She came to a halt, positioning them both in front of the wall opposite to the window then.

There was a corckboard with all kinds of tickets, photos and postcards from around the world pinned onto it, gracing a small part of the wall, while the majority was occupied with posters. Film posters, to be precise.  

"Some of my favourite films," she plainly stated, peeking at him expectantly. And Taehyung breathed out, allowing his gaze to wander over each one of the posters decorating the space. Then going to the tall shelves in the corner with numerous old dvds. His lips falling slightly agape when taking everything in. "You.."

"Yup."

Crime films, heist films, neo-noir, gangster-comedies. 

That explained some things.

After what felt like minutes of silence, he eventually spoke up again.

"Great films."

"Yeah?" she asked, beaming when seeing him nod in approval.

"Of course." He faced her then with knitted brows. "You know films aren't very realistic though."

At this she only scoffed when seeing an shit-eating grin spreading on his lips. And she nudged his side. "Oh, I know. But some are based on real stories, so close enough I'd say."

They shared another glance before Taehyung eventually broke into a fit of laughter. With her promptly joining him, recognising the absurdity of it all. Both laughing over what felt like their own little inside-joke.

"You really are something, Cas.."

»»»

23rd April

Interpol branch office

Seoul, South Korea

"Agent Kim? I forwarded you the video the colleagues from Spain sent over," Jungkook, the newest and youngest addition to the robbery department explained with an eager tone. Making Seokjin perk up and avert his eyes from the file case on the computer screen. "They said it might be of interest for us."

He hummed, waving Namjoon over who had been walking down the corridor with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Moving the curser to Jungkook's message then. Sensing the younger agent hovering expectedly over him when Namjoon finally joined them and he opened the file. All threee watching the video intently, processing the scene.

"I'd recognise this gun work anywhere, that's Kim Taehyung," Namjoon stated, excitement evident in his voice. Seokjin agreed with a grin. "Not bad, how many goons were there? Nine?"

"I count eight, but still."

His superiors' steadfast statements astonished Jungkook. After all the video quality of the security camera from the construction area in East Barcelona was quite low and grainy, partially due to the lack of light. It was mainly shapes visible. No details.

"You mean one of Park Jimin's accomplices? Are you sure?"

Seokjin wanted to almost scoff at the doubtful tone in the young agent's voice but remembered he had only arrived there from the academy two months prior, after Hoseok had transferred to organised crime to become the department head there. So of course Jungkook couldn't know everything yet.

"Pretty sure," Namjoon flashed him a dimpled grin then, patting Jungkook's shoulder.

"I know these guys in and out," Seokjin exhaled dramatically then, "Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi, who joined them five years ago." His brown eyes wandered to the whiteboard across the room where their photographs along with important details greeted him every morning when entering the office. "The only one I don't recognise is this girl."

"She might be connected to Jimin, too, since Taehyung was there," the younger agent suggested.

"Possible," Namjoon stirred his coffee and took a sip, "But the only other woman we know in Park's life is Arabella Valentine and it's surely not her."

Jungkook's brows furrowed in astonishment. "And you're so sure because.."

At this Seokjin laughed out, quite entertained by the youngster's naivity. "Because Jimin's the only one whipped for her, contrary to his partners who'd never trust her. And I can't judge them for that, I wouldn't either," he added, closing the file he faced his younger colleague then. "So I doubt Taehyung would join hands with her if Jimin didn't force him to. But I neither see him nor Yoongi around, so Kim was probably on his own."

Jungkook nodded with a contemplating expression, deep in thoughts. "Maybe she was just a bystander who happened to get involved then?"

Seokjin hummed at Jungkook's reasoning, musing over it for a moment. "Possible. Wouldn't be the first time. Keep an eye on that in the future, though. In case we see her around again."

"Of course," he nodded with a serious tone, about to return to his desk when Seokjin called out for him again.

"Who were those other guys by the way?"

"Oh, according to the case file a gang called Ojitos."

"I see, thanks."

As far as he remembered those were the same guys the three fellas had got into a fight with last summer. So he concluded they'd recognised Taehyung and therefore gone after him.

That girl, however.. whoever she was, it remained a mystery for now.

»»»

25th June

Barcelona, Spain

The day seemed never-ending and Cassandra almost tossed her stethoscope to the ground, slamming her locker close. It was one of those days where pretending not caring didn't work and everything was a bit too overwhelming. Sucking in a breath, she changed into her normal clothes and left the hospital as quickly as possible. Fearing if she looked back, it might just swallow her alive.

It was days like this that made her doubt her choices.

The only thing she looked forward to on the whole way home was food and the ice cream she had stored in the freezer. Hence why she almost forgot to check her mailbox, hurriedly grabbing the few envelopes from it and skimming over them when a postcard that peaked out from among the letters, caught her attention. And she paused.

Eagerly, she tucked it out. Seeing the famous white opera of Sydney surrounded by the sea on its front.

Her brows furrowed. Not recalling knowing anyone who visited or lived there so she flipped it to read the text on the backside for any clues.

"some films shot here:

matrix 1-3, mission impossible 2, two hands, the hard word

thought this might make up for your lack of travel :)

-T"

Her face lit up, instantly recognising the sender. Taehyung.

She hadn't seen him in awhile, the last time he happened to pass by Barcelona being some months ago. And she wondered if that meant he was thinking of her during the months apart, just like she was thinking of him. Always wondering where in the world he had been.

Now she had her answer. Along with two new films for her watchlist.

And she smiled.

»»»

next chapter: 0.4 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame @nanakamami

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

[demaparbat-hp]

hi dema! i’m learning how to do digital art, would you mind sharing your coloring process? coloring (and lineart) is the hardest thing for me to do T_T… what brushes do you use for coloring and how do you not make it look muddy? i’ve been trying to follow tutorials from different artists on youtube but i find my work to look so muddy… thank u in advance >__<

Hi, and thank you for thinking about me for advice! I'm honoured to share a bit of my process, nerve-wracking as that is for my shy self, and hopefully help you out as much as I can. Forgive me if I don't express myself very clearly—I have a bit of a hard time explaining these things. Now, let's get started, shall we?

I'll be using the first panel of this artwork as an example.

My process is pretty straight-forward for most artworks. Make a sketch, draw the lineart, and follow a self-made guideline for coloring and rendering.

Sometimes I'll throw the guideline to the trash bin and start experimenting with brushes and chiaroscuro and color palettes, but that doesn't happen most of the time and, when it does, it's more a challenge than anything else, and not really what I think you're looking for.

I'll include my usual steps here, however, and like I said earlier, these steps are more like what you'd call guidelines than actual rules.

(I just realized I didn't save the sketch for this artwork. Oops)

This is the lineart!

I tend to think that details bore me and are actually pretty exhausting to do, but then I go and make things as clear and detailed as I can. Because I'm a hypocrite like that.

I did try to keep things simple here, though, mostly because I had to go through three other panels and didn't want to burn out my fuel mid-process.

Base colors! The blush (and Zuko's scar!) I draw in a different layer in case I need adjusting the brightness or saturation later.

It's time for shadows!

Pick a color depending on the atmosphere you want the artwork to have. Is it a cozy, warm scene in a honey-tinted room, or is it a moment shared under the moonlight? The color choice should come as an answer to those questions—deep red for the first one and dark blue for the second.

Choose a color and make it dark and saturated. Then, play with the layer opacity! A darker shadow means harsher light, while less opacity works best for a softer look. See the difference? It's subtle, but it's there.

Of course, this is my personal choice. The way shadows are drawn and color is chosen depends on the artist and the artwork. I choose to play with a more simple coloring style, keeping shadows from blending into each other, but you may like a more realistic approach to shadows and colors.

My best advice? Try doing it every way you can, but in the end choose what works best for you. Whatever feels more comfortable, whatever you enjoy drawing the most. And then work to improve it. Love the little proof that you've gotten better, even if it's subtle.

And talking about subtlety...

I love to play with gradients. I use them mostly to give the artwork some form of atmosphere, and make it look cohesive and whole. A light gradient in the color and direction of the shadows will help the characters blend with the background, as will another gradient in lighter colors for the light.

Get creative with gradients! Use them so the lights feel brighter and the shadows darker.

Now it's time to work with the lineart again.

The pure black lineart makes the artwork look harsher, sharper, so I tend to give it some color to soften its edges and compliment the rest of the drawing. In darker shades as the rest of the colors, growing more saturated as the light comes closer.

I love to make the characters' eyes pop and glow! It's really fun what you can do by just messing a bit with the tones of the lineart.

Finally, I play with the level correction. A high contrast will help your artwork stand out and look brighter. See the difference?

And it's done!

Sometimes I like to add other effects or details, but this is the very, very rough shape of my usual process, and thus what I thought you'd like to see.

Once again, I'd like to point out that this is what works for me, and a large part of improving as an artist is just fooling around and messing up until you find the tools and tricks you're most comfortable with.

So keep drawing those muddy shadows and colors! They're only a step of the process.

[leafofkudzu]

Hi there, I hope everyone is enjoying their time with SotO! Next week will be the first Saturday of a new month, which means it'll be time for another art party hosted by my guild, Verdant Shield [VS]! This time around, in honor of SotO's release, we'll be having our little celebration on the cliffs above Garrenhoff in Kessex Hills!

For those who haven't heard of art parties before, they're an idea carried over from Final Fantasy XIV - in-game get-togethers for artists/writers/creatives of all types to hang out, chat, and create together! Put your most iconic look together, find someone who inspires you, and create! Afterwards, everyone posts their creations in a shared tag (ours is #VSArtParty) so others can see, interact, and share! There's no off-site location for these posts, since the idea is to encourage community creativity and interaction! Simply put: the 'goal' of an art party isn't to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Details for location and time are in the above image, but I'll also post them as well as /squadjoin information below the cut!

Location:

I had originally wanted to scout out SotO locations (specifically a certain new outpost hub area), but considering I do still want to keep things F2P accessible, I figured the next best thing would be the former resting place of everyone's favorite mysterious Wizard's Tower, Garrenhoff! But to avoid interfering with people coming and going for story, we'll be sitting in the strawberry patch on the cliffs overlooking it! Head Southeasterly from Cereboth Waypoint and you'll find yourself in the right place pretty easily!

Time & Squad Details:

As is customary, the party will consist of two separate events with an hour in between, though people do tend to hang out a bit before/after as well!

The first party will be on EU servers and begin at 9pm Central European Summer Time (aka 3pm Eastern Daylight Time or 5 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting on my EU alt account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Ashelin Falstaff for an invite.

The second party will be on NA servers and begin at 7pm Eastern Daylight Time (aka 1am Central European Summer Time or 1 hour before in-game reset). This one I’ll be hosting on my main account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Teekzi for an invite.

Closing Words:

No location poll for this month because I wanted to break away from the normal locations and pick out a SotO-appropriate one instead! Going forward if there's a festival or some other key event going on, then a location relevant to that will override the usual location polls, but I'll very likely keep things F2P-friendly even so!

I'm eternally thankful for everyone who comes out to these events and makes them so memorable! Here's to another month of fun memories, and I'll see you all next week! ♥

[molotovmetro]

Hello there!

Hope you're doing good, enjoying your life!

I just had a beautiful (and tiring) day with my boyfriend, we went to ski and then an idea pops in my head.

COD boys + Los Vaqueros + König (yes i need my babygirl) with Male Reader who teachs them how to ski in Montreal! (or wherever you want, i'm just a proud canadian)

You can make it as a headcanon or short story. And hope you can enjoy doing it, if you're not confy with it, fine by me.

Have a wonderful day/night and don't forget to drink water. Ciao!

That sounds like such a good time!

I didn't specify a place in any of these except König's, but where I live Austria and Switzerland are the most common ski vacation destinations so most of what I know about skiing is based on that so I hope it's not too different

I hope you don't mind I left out Rudy for now, I really need to replay the game to get a better grip on his character. That being said this is my first time writing for COD so I'm still working on my characterization a little.

Thank you for requesting :)

Warnings: none! Except for possible inaccuracies because I've never been skiing

M!reader

Being taught to ski by the 141 + Los Vaqueros + König

Ghost

Ghost is in his element. A ski piste is one of the only places in day to day life where a balaclava doesn't stand out.

It's nice to not draw the attention for once.

Would like to try snowboarding as well.

He probably picked up skiing once for a job, so he knows what he's doing relatively well.

Ghost is a man of few words, so he's probably not going to give you long winded explanations. He'll explain the basics, do a little demonstration, and then let you try it and correct where needed.

Its a little impersonal at times, but it's effective. If you look closely though, you might notice the soft look in his eyes.

Soap

Soap is mostly looking forward to the Après-ski.

A day of having fun with you in the snow and then ending it with a party or just a cozy couple of drinks together, it's perfect to him.

Soap finds a lot of pleasure in the little things. Some fun activities, sneaking some spiked hot drinks, and some good food, and he's the happiest man on earth.

He barely knows what he's doing himself, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. You'll figure it out together as you go!

It's a small miracle neither of you got hurt.

Price

Price really deserves the vacation.

Like Soap, he's looking forward to tiring himself out during the day and then relaxing with good food, a couple of drinks, and a cigar in the evening.

Also picked up the skill for a job, but mastered it.

This man is used to training soldiers, so he's a good teacher. His rookies definitely don't get the soft treatment you do, though. He's all praise and encouraging smiles.

He's surprisingly relaxed out here. As busy as he is with work, he cherishes any quality time he gets with you.

Gaz

This man has no idea what he's doing.

Gaz has no intention of breaking a leg however, so he'll go the extra mile to hire a professional teacher.

He's a fast learner though, and he will tease you about it. All in good nature of course.

"Aw, c'mon, love. It's not that hard."

It is. It is that hard.

He'll use his advantage to help you a bit, and the instructor is probably rolling his eyes a little at his horrible flirting.

You get your revenge later when you get to laugh at him as he takes a tumble.

Alejandro

Alejandro doesn't have the most experience either, but he knows what he's doing relatively well.

He takes the opportunity to float with you, making suggestive comments between compliments and getting a little handsy while correcting your stance.

Expect a lot of showing off. He's trying to impress you.

König

Ski King.

Austria is known for its ski tourism. You're in König's domain now.

He's a great teacher, but can be a little impatient. Not that he would get irritated with you, but he's just so excited and can't wait to start!

He'd teach you the very basics, everything you need to know to have fun and don't die, and then he'd figure you'll get a grip on it as you go.

Even despite his impatience, he'd still be considerate. Especially at first, he'll start off only going short distances before stopping to check in on you, only feeling comfortable going further after making sure you're good.

He's as chaotic out there as he is on the field. It's incredibly amusing and kind of endearing to see him enjoy himself like that.

[captainmera]

Uhhhhhhhh

Do you happen to have a tut on how you draw your little poses? Like when you draw you? This is like a very weird question but I am in dire need of help with poses and I absolutely adore all the ways you draw them (and just in general)

Totally fine if not though,😭🫶

STEP.1: draw head.

STEP.2: choose an expression and then draw what you want the hands to be doing/gesturing. (think body language and emotion)

STEP.3: draw body as quick and flimsily as you can using lines in the shape of only C's S's and I's.

if you look at most of my quick sketches or doodles, a lot of the lines are just wonky CSI's, it's called the CSI-method. As a comic artist you just wanna communicate a pose as best as possible without lingering too much. At least if you do full colour + background + character designs + camera work + storytelling + and + and + lots of things... You don't have the time, you just wanna get to next page, tell the story.

And, like...... Allow yourself to draw crappy once in awhile and post it anyway. Idk if you've read my webcomic but there are very obvious pages where it's like WOAH MAMA THAT'S EFFORT and then there are pages where they all look like muppets. But it also makes the cool pages look even more BAMF thanks to it, it gives everything a nice melody and bounce from page to page.

I am inconsistent and I use that to my benefit by leaning into it and letting it punch emotion home more.

it's about communicating a feeling, I think, rather than always being accurate.

I am actually-- really, really, bad at dynamic poses and camera work. Like, legit super bad at it. I bullshit everything, lmao;;; I encourage anyone to also bullshit, and use references if you want! Like go! Whatever makes it fun and less stressful.

see? it's all nonsense but it looked nice anyway haha!

I didn't really consider perspective or anything, I'm trying to teach myself to draw from different angles and it's hard because I like my face-forward-camera lol. But I was focusing more on framing:

so that colours and shadows highlight the scene, so I can say more with one panel than I could with words. It's about the CINEMA~~!

Or, if you close your eyes and then open them. Where does your eyes go? That's the flow of your art. Sometimes it goes in different directions, but there will be key areas your eyes are drawn to. In this image, Hunter will most likely be first, Good! And then secondly Camila, also good! ... Sometimes it's the pizza as second, less good but it still works.

MY POINT IS

THE POINT IIISSSSSS---!!

As long as you have fun playing around with it, you'll learn from it. Don't hate the process, learn from it. If you just relax it'll definitely look better anyway.

My fanart looks better than my serious stuff sometimes lmao, because I put too much pressure on a perfect finish and that just works against the grain of what I'm actually, like, good at doing.

I AM JUST SAYING WHAT WORKS FOR ME.

You should absolutely study backgrounds and perspective and anatomy!

I'm just saying that, like...... It's okay if it isn't perfect. You wont die, people will like it, you'll like it. It's OKAY.

idk if this is what you asked for but I hope it helped.