#(i hope they're still enjoyable to read)

[violinist-rachel]

Fluster

It’s the end of the day and the sun is starting to set. Karl is leaning against a wooden support beam, somberly looking outside.

Karl: "Hm. Time passes unfairly quickly when you're here..."

He turns to Rachel. Karl: "I suppose you have to go soon?"

Rachel: "Yes... It appears so..."

Rachel looks down at the inside of her violin case. She tucks away her instrument and its bow so that they remain in place within their molds. A question pesters her, causing her to fidget nervously while Karl continues to quietly look at the sunset.

Finally, Rachel breaks the silence.

---

Rachel: "Karl?"

Karl: "?"

Rachel: "Forgive me if this is a rude question, but can you really not feel anything?"

He gives her a skeptical look. Karl: "I don't know… This conversation's starting to feel a little painful, if you ask me."

Rachel: "O-oh... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything..."

Karl (waving his hands): "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. But last I've checked, statues don't have any nerve endings."

"Why do you ask?"

Rachel looks down at Karl's foot. Rachel: "Well... You almost lost your leg from those crocodiles that one time... But even if you did, would it have hurt? In any way at all?"

“That’s what she’s worried about?” He thinks to himself, bemused.

Karl: "I can feel things, but probably not in the sense you're thinking of."

"I can 'feel' the tugging and impact of forces hitting me, and I can 'feel' my limbs in the sense that I can still move them, even when they're detached. But I have to admit, I barely have an idea of what you humans consider 'pain'..."

He pauses.

"Not that I'm envious. It doesn't look like a good time."

---

Rachel: "Does that mean you can sense if something's on you?"

Karl grins wryly. Karl: "I'll always be able to tell if it's you, but we can test that if you're curious..."

Rachel blushes lightly and pushes Karl playfully by his shoulder. Rachel: "Karl-! Do you even know what you're saying..?!"

Karl (clapping): "Haha! Your reaction's really all I need to know! You're so cute when you're flustered."

Rachel (flustered): "Y-You…! Ahh!! Stop teasing me-!!"

Karl laughs at her again.

Karl: "But to answer your question, it depends on the object. If it were something light, like a bug, then probably not."

Rachel: "Let's say you were to balance a heavy book on your head. Would you feel it?"

Karl: "An odd thing to put on your head, but I might be able to feel its weight. Heavy can be relative, after all."

Rachel: "What about water? Do you feel damp when you're drenched?"

Karl: "Thankfully, my resin coating makes it glide right off me, like water off a duck's back! So… no."

Rachel: "How about temperature? Do you feel bothered by hot or cold weather?"

Karl: "Not particularly. Though, I can feel the effects of it; the cold makes me more rigid, so I feel myself using more energy to move around"

Rachel: "I see..."

---

Karl eyes her curiously. Karl: "Why the sudden interest, though?"

Rachel: "Hm?"

Karl: "Gasp! Could it be?" Karl: "Are you, perhaps, interested in learning about my body more... intimately?"

Rachel (amused): "Karl..."

Karl (coyly): "Because if you want, I can teach you everything you want to know, and more."

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. She ponders a bit before her eyes light up and suddenly, her expression turns mischievous.

Rachel: "And what if I take you up on that offer?"

Karl raises an eyebrow. Karl: "Oh?"

---

Rachel starts advancing closer to him.

Rachel: "I've always been curious about you, Karl. And I've been wondering how you'd feel if you were put in... certain situations..."

Rachel doesn't break eye contact, gazing at him as she closes the distance with an expression that makes him nervous, and yet, excited at the same time.

Karl: "For example...?"

Rachel: "For example..."

She puts her hand on his chest, pushing against him with just enough force to make him lean against the wooden support.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel my weight if I sat on top of you?"

Rachel rests her other hand against the support and brings her hand up to lightly caress his lips with her fingertips.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the moisture of my lips if I were to press them against yours?"

She moves her hand onto Karl's shoulder and leans forward, her face inches away from his face.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the heat radiating from me if you were close enough to hear my heart beat?"

She gazes at him intently. Rachel: "I'm just so curious, Karl..."

Karl looks back at her, speechless and baffled by this sudden shift. His eyes scans her face as he desperately tries to process a cryptic expression that he’s never seen from her before. Tense with anticipation, he waits to see what she’ll do next.

---

A moment passes, and Rachel sighs wistfully, backing away from Karl with faux disappointment.

Rachel: "Based on your answers, though, it doesn't sound like any of those would do much for you."

"...Right?"

Karl snaps back to reality, realizing it's his turn to answer.

Karl: "...!" Karl: "Ahah…" Karl: "Ahaha!!" Karl: "Well!" Karl: "M-Maybe in theory...!"

Karl relaxes a little, though still shaken from the residual fluster. He tries to laugh it off, hoping she hasn’t noticed his lost composure.

Karl: "But you never know unless you try... right?"

Rachel smiles teasingly. She walks over to where her violin rests and picks it up.

Rachel: "It's getting late, Karl. I think should get going before it gets too dark."

Karl deflates a little. Karl: "Ah yes… Of course…" Time really does pass unfairly quickly when she's with him.

Karl: "Let me walk you to the bridge, at least."

Rachel: "Please."

---

The two walk over to their usual parting spot outside.

As usual, Rachel's stayed a little longer than she should've tonight. Not that she's ever minded, but she feels bad about worrying her poor mother back home. She'll have to do something to make up for it later.

Rachel: "Alright then. I'll see you around, Karl."

Karl: "I'll be here..."

Rachel smiles. Rachel: "Take care."

Karl watched Rachel as she walked away.

He wished she didn't have to go. She usually visits him once or twice every week, but he's never truly sure when he'll see her again, whether it's due to an upcoming event, or simply because she's not feeling well. She tries to keep him updated, but there's been times when he wasn't able to see her for weeks, without any warning. Sometimes even months.

Karl: "Rachel!"

Rachel turns around.

Karl (grinning): "Made you look!"

Rachel laughs and shakes her head. She waves at him before turning back around.

He always hated sad good-byes.

[causenessus]

struggled to write and was about to log off and then realized that just means i should work on my 1k event (rip) and make super self indulgent oneshots so be prepared

[nayruwu]

okay. okayokayokay. i still haven't gotten over the devastation of finding out that that dinosaur spoiler was not, in fact, a joke, but i don't have too much beef with this chapter. obviously there were wasted panels, but compared to the recent chapters i think it was great.

never felt this dumbfounded with a release before, but there's plot! there's an actually funny joke! there's angel mikaela! there's the cool flamey angels in their civilization! weirdly enough, i am entirely at peace with this. the salt gets a month off.

[todayisafridaynight]

i solemnly swear not to write a fic with a similar premise as one ive done in the past but also i like it when people slow dance.....

[dersitesans]

feeling nostalgic about Skyrim, and wanted to reread an old fanfic I'd really enjoyed.

Thankfully, with a bit of digging, i found it's still on Ao3 (Archive is a beautiful name for a baby girl, btw), but had to take a minute seeing that the fic in question had been written in 2015. It's almost ten goddamn years old.

But what really got me was that the author hasn't posted anything since 2016 :(

Heiwako if you're out there, I'm pouring one out for you

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[russellsppttemplates]

They're my babies! (Lando Norris)

While preparing for baby number three, you start to notice just how grown up Matilda and Fraser are

Note: english is not my first language. I'm back and I'm not sure if I still know how to do this 🫣 Thank you for being so patient ✨️ I hope it's enjoyable to read!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not actively taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant, mentions worries associated with pre-eclampsia, prematurity and themes associated with them

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"And where are my two boys going?", you inquired as you heard Lando tell Fraser to finish his breakfast so they could get ready to go.

"Daddy is taking me to get a haircut!", Fraser beamed as he ruffled his curls, "they're hindering me in the eyes", he explained.

"I'm getting my hair trimmed as well", your husband offered, kissing the top of your head after he set your tea next to your plate.

"Thank you, love", you whispered, "me and Tilly are staying in today, aren't we, princess?", you checked with your daughter. When you were putting her to bed the previous night, she asked if you could stay home for the day so she could help you with preparing the nursery for the arrival of your babygirl - the furniture was already in place, now you just needed to fill it with clothes bedding and all of the products you needed for your baby girl.

"Yes, I'm helping mummy with Lottie's things!", your oldest daughter smiled before taking a spoonful from her porridge.

"That's very nice of you, sweetheart", Lando praised, kissing the top of her head and getting the plates from the table to put in the dishwasher.

The boys headed upstairs to change while you and Tilly stayed back downstairs, giving her your undivided attention as she told you about what happened in school. With the approach of the baby's arrival, you and Lando made extra effort to spend alone time with each of your kids.

"Mummy! Tilly! I want to show you something, where are you?", Fraser called just as you were getting ready to go upstairs yourselves.

"We're heading upstairs!", Matilda replied.

At the top of the stairs, you were met with your husband and your son dressed in a white t-shirt and dark green shorts. Apart from the little cartoon Fraser 's t-shirt had, they were identical to the eye.

"Are you matching? Look at you two!", you cooed, stretching your arms so you could take him in and have the little boy close to you.

"I don't want to hurt you, mummy - I'm a big boy", Fraser mumbled as he set him on your hip.

"You won't, my love, I'm good", you assured as Lando also rubbed your back, "you two look so handsome".

"It's true, daddy and Fraser look handsome! Can we match today too, mummy?", Matilda asked.

Lando blushed slightly at the attention he was getting, hiding his face on your daughter's neck and blowing a raspberry there, making her let out a loud squeal followed by her melodic laugh, "that tickles daddy!".

"You look really beautiful, mummy", Fraser whispered on your ear, resting his head on your chest and playing with your hair.

"Thank you, baby boy", you kissed his cheek, "are you planning on giving me a new hair do too?", you joked.

"No, it looks pretty like this, but I just like to play with it", he mumbled.

The four of your stayed in the hallway for a bit before, just taking in the moment before Lando and Fraser really had to go, not wanting to miss their appointment.

Matilda helped you pick out a loungewear set that was comfortable and breezy before she went to her wardrobe to grab one of her lavender dresses, thinking the colour was perfect to match your own clothes.

"Where are we going to start, mummy?", Matilda wondered, sitting down on the rug inside the nursery and looking at all the boxes filled with unfolded clothes.

"These are all washed so we just have to fold them and organise them into the drawers - I'd you want to play or do something that you find more fun, you can do it, Tilly, I don't mind", you assured, hardly thinking folding clothes would be the funnest activity for your seven year old.

"No, mummy, I want to help you! Can you just put some music on your phone, please?", she asked, prompting you to play some of your favourites in your Spotify app.

"The top ones can be for the baby grows - we'll go through a lot of them so they need to be quick and easy to grab", you explained as you got the folded clothes from her hands.

"This one here is so pretty, mummy!", Matilda pointed to a babygrow you remembered her wearing when she was a baby.

"We got this one from uncle George and auntie Carmen when you were born", you smiled, unfolding the piece to take a good look at the embroidered stars on the piece. Despite having been worn multiple times by both Matilda and Fraser, the piece was still in good quality given the materials it was made out of.

"Me? Was I ever this little?", Matilda argued softly, standing behind the piece so she could see the difference, "wow, it's so hard to believe that", she mused.

Your emotions got the best out of you as your memory took you back to the times of newborn Matilda. You and Lando were first time parents and naturally things didn't fall into place right away - there was a lot of learning still and finding out what worked for your baby and your family despite everything you read on the books, but the newborn bubble was a time you cherished fondly.

"You were! I even remember this one being a little loose on you, daddy had to roll up the sleeves so they wouldn't bunch up on your hands", you recalled your husband doing so, holding her to his chest as he adjusted the fabric on the little one's body.

"I'm so much bigger now!", Matilda smiled before folding the piece again and placing it in the drawer.

"Yes, you are", you gulped, keeping the tears at bay as you watched your not so little girl independently carry on with her task.

A call interrupted you, Matilda handing you the phone from its spot on the chest of drawers so you wouldn't have to get up.

"Thank you, my love - hello!", you asked to the other side of the line, engaging in conversation with your sister in-law.

"Is it Nana Cisca or auntie Cisca?", Matilda asked when you put the phone on speaker so they could talk too.

"It's auntie Cisca, Tilly! How is my little princess?", she asked over the phone.

As soon as they talked about everything they needed to talk, and ending the call with a promise of a drawing session in the garden for when the weather looked nice, your daughter and you bid goodbye to your husband's sister.

"Mummy!", you heard Fraser call after the door closed just as you were plating up some snacks for you and Matilda.

"You boys got home just in time for snack time!", you called back, bringing the plates to the table before Lando and Fraser stepped inside the kitchen.

The sight before you could only be disguised as double vision. Fraser always looked a little bit more like Lando when compared to the physical traits he got from you, but right now, there was Lando and a mini Lando.

"Do you not like my haircut, mummy?", your son asked as a tinge of insecurity made it to his voice.

"Of course I like it, Fraser - I love it!", you quickly assured, picking him up so you could take a good look at his handsome face, "you look so handsome, my love! You and daddy look so much like eachtoher, that's why I was quiet for a bit", you explained.

Lando approached you, pecking your lips and rubbing your baby bump, "the hairdresser said the same actually", he mused as he sat next to Matilda and stole one of her strawberries.

"There's enough food for all of us, let me make some more", you smiled at their antics.

"I want to go down, mummy", Fraser asked so you could set him on the floor.

Lando took the opportunity to swap with the little boy, offering him his spot at the table and heading to stand next to you by the counter.

"And do I look handsome too?", your husband whispered on your ear as he circled your waist, his hands landing on your baby bump and feeling her move.

"The most handsome of all, although Fraser is serious competition", you giggled.

"He's one cute little dude, isn't he?", your husband stated, "what can I say? We make really cute kids, Y/N Norris", he kissed your neck, "and we're about to have proof number three of that - how has she been?".

"She's been well behaved today, although as soon as she hears your voice, she goes back to being a wiggly baby", you chuckled as you felt a particularly hard kick.

"Calm down, sweet girl, daddy is excited to be home too but we can't kick mummy like that, can we? You can't be a trouble maker already", Lando spoke softly, kissing your cheek one last time before he carried on helping you make something to eat.

"And that way, she always knew that she could count on her friends", you finished Fraser's bedtime story, tucking him in properly before setting the book back on the shelf.

"Good night, mummy", Fraser mumbled sleepily, "I love you to the moon and back".

"Sweet dreams, Fraser, I love you all the way around the milky way", you mumbled back, kissing his forehead and leaving the room once you turned off the light.

You could faintly hear some noise coming from Matilda's bedroom, knocking on the door softly before opening it and seeing Lando sat on the bed with Tilly on his arms, a finished book on his thighs as they spoke softly.

"Still not asleep?", you nudged.

"I wanted Tilly to show you this", Lando pointed to the drawing on top of her desk, "tell mummy what that is".

"This is our family, and we can use this to teach Lottie when she's born", Matilda clarified, "Nana Cisca has the same name as auntie Cisca, Lottie can be confused, mummy", she reasoned.

"That's very nice and thoughtful of you princess", you smiled, tracing all the lines on the paper.

You and Lando wished her a good night before leaving her bedroom, Lando popping into Fraser's room to kiss him goodnight another time and to check if he was asleep before meeting you in the bedroom.

"This morning, Tilly found the baby grow with the stars George and Carmen gifted us and she held it up against her chest and I have been a mess since", you admitted as Lando held out his arms for a cuddle.

"She's really grown up, isn't she? I have no idea how she thought about the names", Lando chuckled.

"Your sister called this morning and she wondered if it was her or your mother - she seemed to stick with the thought but I didn't think much of it", you shrugged your shoulders as you rocked in eachother's embrace.

"She's really clever, she gets that from you, that's for sure", Lando offered.

"Seems right since you managed to get rid of my little baby boy and bring back a mini you version from the hairdresser!", you scoffed as Lando looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, "don't act all innocent! Fraser was my cuddly baby boy this morning, then you took him to get a haircut and suddenly he looks like a pre teen! And he said he didn't want to cuddle me", you pouted.

"Well, I did take him for the haircut, but I didn't actually do it myself", Lando argued playfully, earning him light slap on his chest, "but I did tell him he had to be careful with you now that you're towards the end of the pregnancy", he nudged.

"Lando", you pouted.

"I didn't tell him to not cuddle you! I just told him that he needed to be careful with you carrying heavy things and stuff like that - he was the one to suggest that from now on he would only cuddle you when you were laying down!", your husband told you in his defense.

"He's still my baby! And Tilly is too! I want cuddles with my babies no matter what!", you stated, feeling Charlotte kick Lando's tummy since you were still glued together, "you too, my love, in due time", you mumbled the last part.

"I tell you what, tomorrow we'll have a cuddle session in bed, all of us and I'll make sure Tilly and Fraser are as close to you as possible", Lando smiled.

"That sounds good", you agreed, kissing his lips before you started getting ready for bed.

As you sat down after pulling the covers, Lando noticed there was still something that was leaving you unsettled.

"I can tell something is worrying you still - you have that frown line Fraser has on his forehead too", Lando nodded as he rubbed your feet and ankles since they had swelled a bit lately.

"What if I can't be a good home for this baby, too?", you asked as Lando quirked an eyebrow at you, "Fraser had to come earthside earlier because my blood pressure was a mess, and before that I spent days in hospital trying to make sure he had the least amount of deficits possible. What if I can't carry to term this time around either?", you whispered the last part, almost like if you said it any louder, it was bound to happen straight away.

"I'm scared too, my love", Lando spoke after gathering his thoughts, "but we are doing what we can to make sure this baby cooks for as long as she has to before coming to us - we're having extra appointments to check with everything, we're being active and healthy, I'm also travelling as less as I possibly can, and we have both of our parents coming here for help on a schedule so you don't stress out so much - I know you'll never admit it because you think it's a dirty expression, but those two?", he pointed in the direction of the kids' bedrooms, "they're definitely my children because of the chaos they cause and it's stressful. I love them to death - I'd do anything for them -, but, my word, is it hard sometimes?!", he giggled as you nodded in agreement, "I'd never want you to feel all the parenting stress on your own, it's not good any other time and it's especially not good when you're carrying our little girl", he smiled, kissing just above your baby bump.

"I just want to be a safe home for Lottie", you rubbed your babybump.

"And you are, Y/N, her first home and the safest of them all - and even though I'm not wishing for it, if it happens again, we know we can handle it and most of that is because your such a strong woman", he praised as he sat next to you and held your hand in his, "we're in this together and you can always come to me whenever these scary thoughts come around", he kissed your lips.

"Thank you", you whispered again, pecking his lips.

"That's not a nice greeting, I deserve better, gorgeous girl", he smirked, supporting himself on his arms while carefully hovering over you while he was still able to, "you deserve better, and apparently they say this can be very relaxing and lower your blood pressure, so you're in for a fine night, pretty mama", he said as he stole a proper kiss from your lips.

[604to647]

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... 😅😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights.  You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world.  But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed.  You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer!  Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”).  He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them.  Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love.  Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter.  All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience.  You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided.  Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie.  It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous. 

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week.  The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins.  Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom.  All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay.  For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens.  Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night.  For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows). 

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it.  The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations.  Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here.  Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them.  You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny.  Make sure she and Benny have fun.  And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun.  No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice.  Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are.  There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies.  Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends.  Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny.  Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking. 

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others.  Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive.  You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.  Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head.  You think you probably imagine it. 

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here.  Well, that seems presumptuous!  Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water.  Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed.  No one ever did.  The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing?  It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you.  And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”.  You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will.  You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don’t belong. 

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable.  After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air.  Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning.  But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others.  When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed.  You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work.  Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night.  Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening.  So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot.  You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores.  Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms.  You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one. 

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!”  His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack.  Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen.  Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale.  He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out.  It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well.  You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice.  Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?”  You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat.  Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture.  Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm.  He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper.  Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you.  The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed.  You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard.  Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad.  You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause.  It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake?  Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place!  Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice.  It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right.  And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you!  The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous.  But the rest of us?  What we have aren’t even cottages.  They’re cabins.  This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all.  That’s all on me, Frankie.  Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.”  You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie.  You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me.  I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran?  I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it.  I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me.  So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere.  I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys.  And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it.  I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl.  It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya.  It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.”  He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys?  We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions.  All our missions, actually.  The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building.  It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down.  For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic.  He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle.  He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose.  I’m sorry – we should be better hosts.  You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me.  I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again.  I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.”  It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes.  Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is.  Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again.  This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too.  To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another.  I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around.  It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage.  I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes.  I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with.  The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.”  You mean it sincerely.  Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit.  Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone.  You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city.  You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property. 

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds.  The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power.  His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled.  Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there?  And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically.  Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs.  When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest.  You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed.  It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle.  When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat.  These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road.  Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen.  Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting.  But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing. 

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night.  The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before.  You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you.  And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire.  You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love.  The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week.  Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell. 

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing.  About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by.  You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin.  He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp.  The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while.  In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area.  In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure.  For you.

“Thank you, Frankie.  This is perfect.  But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you.  Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap.  The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth.  Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting.  This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion.  His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud.  Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to.  Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious!  But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that.  But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not.  You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more.  This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise.  You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back.  Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back.  Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore.  Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest.  Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl.  Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie.  Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl.  Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie.  Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

“Sure!  What about Santi and Will?”  You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny.  Or Tom.  Well at least Santi can ride with Tom.  Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod!  I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse.  Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” 

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement.  Next time.

[romcomeon]

❝ 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩-𝐢𝐬𝐡 ❞ Ver 3

╰┈➤ LOVE ME DESPITE IT ALL? | HEADCANON POST

question : "Does this get tiring...?" AKA nondateables seeing their beloved sheep... as a human!

part.s : demon brothers | triworlds | nondateables

pairing.s : Thirteen x MC, Mephistopheles x MC, Raphael x MC [all separately] + a suprise guest

note.s : That took longer than I expected. Seriously, this week felt like such a rollercoaster ride that I didn't think I'd be able to finish this in time— but here we are!!

Fair warning that I have no notes on Raphael whatsoever. I am purely basing these off of interactions that I recall at the top of my head; consider this as another practice round :"DD

Anyhow, hope you enjoy the conclusion to this trilogy! ^^

The sheep's curse returns.

It's been so long, why MUST it happen NOW!? After your family getaway to the human world, no less. Back to square one: memory loss and stubby legs. Everyone came to your aid, albeit more protective than before due to circumstances. New people? New People! You have bonded with them after a while, and while most weren't too overjoyed, you'd say it was an enjoyable-

Oh my for goodness' sake-

The all too familiar poof arises again. But, was it just you or did it hurt than the last- ahh.. You placed your palm to your forehead. Hurts. It fucking hurts. With one eye open, you try and ask for help to maybe Lucifer or- Oh right, they're also in this room.

THIRTEEN ; "Awww!!"

Thirteen is very supportive.

Hm? She stans you all the way, one of your biggest fans! This privilege will surely seal the deal!

Another fangirl added to your roster. You have piqued her interest at the sight of your adorably special soul but-

Girly runs up to you and pulls you in a tight embrace.

Thirteen is absolutely GUSHING over how you look. That hair? adorbs! Any tattoos? Cuties!! More, more, more!!

What's got our reaper even more excited was your soul! Well, so the curse also managed to hide your soul- not literally though it slightly hindered its view.

The first instance she went to check on your soul, Thirteen noticed the white glowing light emitting like dispersed shockwaves; urging to be released to its full glory.

And to FINALLY inspect it with no obstacles? She was beyond thrilled.

Although, she does feel kind of bummed out about it, to be honest.

Thirteen had spent eons crafting and perfecting specialized traps and pranks for the little sheep. Seriously, do you have ANY idea how long it takes to get the measurements right?

Hmph! now she has nothing to use them for!!

It didn't matter how frickin' shorter you are than all of them, you still aren't plushie sheep size!

Hmm.. maybe she should instead use this as an opportunity to conduct larger-scale traps... though that wouldn't just be suited for you.

Unless...

Hey hey human, get ready! Once she gets you, she's got you.

MEPHISTOPHELES ; "So THIS is the human?"

Pft- the nobleman scoffs.

He has seen far greater escapades than the sight beholding his very eyes at the moment.

It's really no outstanding feat.

Truly.

As much as he wishes to brush this aside as yet another antic done by the human, you know that he will never escape it.

You know he will be thinking plentiful of it — though not in any particular light [yet]

You see, this transformation will become the next talk of the school for weeks. By cursed virtue, it felt mandatory to handle this topic and present its own article.

Unfortunately for Mephistopheles, it meant all who are part of the Newspaper Club would constantly observe; asking you questions to publish this latest issue.

Why must he care? Sure publication is necessary for the RAD archives yet he didn't have to think about you.

He shouldn't have to think about you.

Yet there he sat, scribbling through the papers on his desk to get your physical description as accurate as possible. A good headline may do? "The Tiny Lamb Turns Human!" — no. That's not read-worthy enough.

The last time he was ever like this was describing Lord Diavolo's newest outfit during one of the many balls he'd host back in the day. That article reached headlines as people exchange opinions on this "newest fashion trend".

Did he really pay this much attention to your appearance? You? An otherwise useless mound of flesh that's got everyone's attention?

"What did Diavolo see in you?" — whatever it may be, it made sense.

It should make sense. He trusts Diavolo's word for it, and he quotes: "the prettiest human to ever grace this land."

RAPHAEL ; "..."

...? Huh.

Raphael was very curious. It dates back to the first time he encountered you.

Frankly, at the time he had to look down to the ground as he didn't know humans could be so. . .

Short.

But now that the curse had once again faded away [perhaps], he tries to understand what all the others were fussing on about you.

His eyes peer over your form, taking in each and every detail. He has a sharp eye, though once you take a glance at him, you feel as if he's trying to memorize your form.

Don't get too appalled, he does not have a disappointed look on his face.

As much as he's observing, Raphael won't comment on anything. Positive, Negative, none at all — he just stood there quietly. He lets other people do the talking for him.

That doesn't mean he won't give a comment or two asking if you're alright... Well, your face was indeed contorted in horror for a few seconds before you felt the traumatic headache building up once more.

He never understood how people's eyes seem drawn toward your direction. He thought that it almost looked like their eyes were permanently glued onto you.

Well at first he assumed that it's with how cute you were. Luke and Simeon constantly talk about it over at Purgatory Hall, paired with Solomon gushing about his "adorable apprentice" like an overproud mentor.

Now? Raphael sees himself fallen victim.

Ah. You got him.

Hm? Oh! A message from heaven?

MICHAEL ; "Surprise Surprise.."

Such an adorable little sheep. . .

You didn't know—no one did—but Michael had been observing everything up from the top of the Celestial Realm.

He wouldn't say he was curious, but more or less intrigued by the idea of what you looked like. All he received was a glimpse of one of the many chaotic instances that you got yourself into.

Oh my, it was a delight.

A small chuckle escaped Michael's lips. With a snap of the finger, the cloud within the orb dissipates, gone from within the crystal dome.

If you ever meet in the far distant future, Michael has exactly one question prepared for you.

Human, what have you done to them?

A/N: and that's a wrap! Now the Michael thingy was just a bit of a silly idea and to be clear I have not yet played Lessons 40+ of NB so I have no idea what goes there- so that last part is purely for the feels ;v; There won't be a part 4 or further continuation for "Feeling Sheep-ish", so what comes after is now up to the reader's interpretation. Would also like to add that my schedule will be taking a toll for the next few months, so there will be an update in the rules. And this will be the last you will see of this formatting because I'm updating this blog's theme- but hey, now it's series exclusive! How about it? That's all and stay safe whenever and wherever you are ! !

divider/s by @/cafekitsune | artwork by NTT Solmare

[harvsboy]

small moments with Harvey

masterlist || hub

a/n; I still have a lot to wrap up on the big headcanon post so until that's done, have this as your dose of Harvey content! i have more coming but for the moment this is what I've got that's done so!

cw; alcohol mentions, swearing, one kiss mention, x gn!reader

tags; @riverwritez @titishq @asterjaxx @luv4luci @zuuriell @ihearttheraindropss (send an ask or dm to be added!!)

- watching him clean his glasses, or push them up the bridge of his nose while working. seeing them fogged up during winter days, the way his eyebrows punch together at the sight of the fogged glass. taking them off and wiping them with his shirt, sighing before putting them back on, and reaching his hand back out for you to take.

- laying in bed, late mornings or early nights. head on his chest and tucked under his chin, listening to the thump thump of his heart pumping blood through his veins. the sound of his soft breathing, the feel of it as it brushes against your skin, how warm & jarring it is. his one hand on your side or hand; stroking gently with his palm or fingers. his other hand focused in your hair or on your hairline. pushing back stray strands, or brushing his fingertips against your skin; in circles or strokes.

- planting on the first day of the season, a random day he took off to spend with you, now knee deep in dirt and admiring you with so much love he thought his heart might explode. helping you with placing the seeds and covering them, ensuring they're the right depth in the ground. (you know all of this, but having him guide you is relaxing and makes it an even more enjoyable experience.)

- taking his beetle into the city, getting passenger princess/prince/royalty privileges. his hand on your thigh, moving to brush hair out of your face at stop lights, his eyes always instinctually looking for you when the car is stopped. going to museums and restaurants and shops, holding his hand or fingers or looping your finger in his belt loops; wanting to hold onto him at all times.

- waking before you only to make you breakfast. he has to rush into work minutes after you get settled at the table, but seeing your face, kissing your lips, with the morning sun casted through the windows is all he needs to function. why have his coffee when he has you?

- we all know he's on the older side, he has an older man routine. comes home on long days, sits in his chair with his lamp and reads with a glass of wine (or whiskey if the day was bad enough). pats his thigh and sits back, beckoning for you to sit in his lap. he'll have you curl into his chest, his hands splayed across your hips or sides or stomach, keeping you pinned against his body. he reads to you, in a gentle voice. kisses pressed against your forehead with care, hoping you fall asleep so he can tuck you in while he does paper work in his office just off the bedroom.

- him getting dressed in the mornings, in the same order each day. pressed pants, shoes, shirt, tie, jacket, + a scarf if needed. (his watch only comes off before showers, he puts it on immediately after getting out + his white coat stays at the clinic.)

- staying by his side in the maze on spirit's eve. you pretended to be brave, only to get scared shitless and end up with him trying to protect you. he was just as scared, but some of that fear left when he realized he could make you feel safe, that he could protect you. that he isn't all that weak.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Telling slashers you like 'hot old men'

I am an old man lover and enjoyer for life. I love hot old men I hope I become one when I'm older. So what better way then to make a post appreciating all of the hot old men I'm in love with. I know some of these men aren't like super old but it's still kind of old ok? We're talking an age range from 30's-50's. Also this was buried in my drafts since like April.

Includes: Doomhead, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Hannibal Lecter, and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: None I can think of

Doomhead

He honestly thought you said something else when you first said it. You two were watching a movie together and you made a comment on how you love "hot old men".

When he asks you to repeat yourself and you confirm that you said you love hot old men he laughs. He knows he's an older man but you saying that is really funny to him.

"Are you calling me an old man, sugar?" He asks you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. After you clarify you don't mean it in a negative way he just keeps laughing quietly.

He'll bring this up from time to time when he sees fit. He honestly might play up the 'old man' act just to tease you about it even more. But he's not too offended that you said it.

Mark Hoffman

You and Hoffman are coworkers and you've been dropping hints to him about your attraction to him. Today you were working with Hoffman, looking over some tapes when the discussion of how long you've been in the force came up.

When Hoffman mentioned when he graduated from the police academy and made a comment about how he's old you smiled and said, "Good thing I love old men."

He laughed it off at first then got a little defensive about how he's "not that old". You explained to him that you never meant it to be rude, you just meant to say that you find older men attractive.

He just nodded his head and went back to watching the tape over. But over the next few days he kept thinking about what you said. It's the most outwardly flirty you've been with him before. When he next sees you he asks you out and you accept.

Peter Strahm

You're on a date with him after being introduced to each other by a mutual friend. He took you somewhere nice and he's driving you home. You both feel a strong connection.

He mentions how long he's been working in the FBI and makes a comment about how you must think he's so old. But when you chuckle and tell him "Don't worry, I love old men." He chuckles too.

Peter isn't too much older than you but he still finds your comment funny. He asks you why and when you talk about how older men are more mature, provide stability, and they're just hot, he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh.

He thinks about your comment for awhile after the date. The comment and how well the date went leads him to asking you out again, which you of course say yes to.

Hannibal Lecter

You met Hannibal at an opera and he found you very attractive. He invited you over for dinner later in the week and you accepted. He made sure to make an impressive meal for you, which isn't hard for him to do.

You two start talking over dinner and Hannibal talks about his career as a surgeon then as a psychiatrist. He makes a comment about how you must think he's very old and you reply with, "I don't mind at all. I love old men."

He chuckles and says he's not that old. You tell him you know that but you start talking about how you love a man who looks more mature and has his life well put together.

The dinner goes well and he invites you over again later in the month. But he can't stop thinking about your comment. He knows he's an older man but he doesn't think he's that old. But the comment doesn't get to him too much because you like him anyway.

Bo Sinclair

You're sitting with Bo in his garage while he's working on a car. You're reading an old magazine when you start to giggle. He asks you what's so funny and you talk about how hot this model is.

When you show him the model Bo talks about how he looks pretty old to which you reply with "I love old men." Bo sets down his tool and looks at you.

"Are you saying I'm old, darlin'?" He asks you. You think for a moment before you tell him no. Bo is in his early 30's and you don't really consider that old.

You have to explain to him that by "old men" you mean men in their 40's and above. Bo will tease you about this constantly. Any time you two see an older man, either it being in a movie or a victim he asks you if he's your type.

[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

[leewonkyeom]

bonnie and clyde | yoon jeonghan

☆ pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

☆ synopsis: in which jeonghan is hoping someone will notice what he's plotting on twitter

☆ genre: one-shot smau, fluff

☆ warnings: i can't think of anything, cause i don't think i even swore in this one? but let me know if there's anything i should tag!

☆ a/n: i think this one might be funnier if you've already read tom and jerry (feat. joshua)! but it shouldn't be a pre-requisite and should be enjoyable still!

like last time i want to give credit where credit is due! this was loosely inspired by 💬🗯️💭 THOUGHTS ??? by @itadorins (esp. the vernon one) and obvious by @suhnshinehaos

main masterlist

☆ a/n: i know this one isn't as funny as the joshua one, but hopefully it's just as enjoyable! i originally wanted to call the joshua one bonnie and clyde, but i was like ? they're not partners in crime, that doesn't make sense. and then i knew i had to write this one with jeonghan! and i finally wrote it out this week!

also want to dedicate this to my mutual @kitsumaki cause she gave me sm inspiration to write this fic by being the biggest jeonghan simp i know♡♡

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hiii since you done Hyugo relationship hcs could you please do Crowe? Tysm! <3

Ethereality (Crowe x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

For @Anonymous ! Hope you enjoy! :D - Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

A/N: Ask box is still open, but answering them will be put on hold, as I am going to start writing my personal stories and ideas for this game; (yes I will do all your requests don't worry, it just may no longer be a daily occurrence). :]

Trigger Warnings: Has blatant mentions of sexual activity/NSFW content.

Ethereality: the quality of being very light and delicate, especially in a way that does not seem to come from the real, physical world.

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SFW

Crowe will revere you.

Princess treatment? Doesn’t cut it. He’s going to treat you like a queen, like an empress, like a deity.

I’m pretty sure he’s got plenty of money under his name, so he can afford to essentially pamper you whenever, however and wherever you want.

Loves getting his hair braided by you, if you wanna style it? Go ahead! He doesn’t care, (as long as it looks sophisticated enough).

Owns the comfiest clothes ever, will be turned on happily flushed if you wear them (especially his overcoats and sweaters holy shit).

It makes him feel at ease when you wear his things. As if a part of him is always with you.

King of compliments! This man will sing your praises like it's the last time he'll ever see you, always makes sure you know he loves you. Could be via words, affection or pinning you agai-

Is the type to escort you places, doesn't matter where, he wants to be there with you, talking to you, seeing your beautiful face as it gets framed by the background noise of the world.

Holds your hand in public. He doesn't care, he wants it to be clear as day that you're his and he's yours.

Will watch movies and shows with you on his lap, which usually ends up in the both of you tangled on your couch sound asleep.

Loves reading to you, and he's got such a soothing voice for it oml

If you're not tired when he starts, you'll be barely keeping your eyelids open after about 30 minutes.

Cuddles you in bed, loves curling his body around yours. #bigspoon

Your first kiss is when he takes you out for a stargazing date, under the blankets of the dark night sky.

You still can't forget how sweet his lips tasted. How his hand cupped the back of your head.

It was ethereal. Magical.

And there'd be hell to pay if he didn't feel the same.

This guy is entirely devoted to you.

And actively shows it.

Will hug you out of nowhere. If you're feeling sad some day, will just gently cradle you and stroke your hair softly, peppering small kisses across your gorgeous face.

He loves your smile. It's all he ever wants you to be, happy.

He'll do anything to see his angel happy.

Also will make you your favourite food if you're upset, or satiate your cravings when you need it.

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NSFW

He's a gentle dom

I don't think I need to elaborate

Will maintain eye contact during sex, he wants to look at your pretty, flushed face; doesn't matter if you're above or beneath him.

Praises you. Everything about you.

Will quietly moan into your collarbone, maybe even sink his teeth in (only if you assure him it's okay)

Will be okay with slight hair pulling (him with his hair down >>>>)

He's gonna pepper your face with kisses btw

Maybe even a few hickeys

Will be a massive giver.

His hands are also everywhere btw

And they're quite big (like his co-) In short, Crowe Ichabod is a 11182989100101010101/10 man and s/o; yet he still cannot believe how he was able to catch such an ethereal, angelic being like yourself. <33

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

More Sherlock & Co Headcanons

Because y'all like the first ones so much.

Mariana is one of those heathens who eats the kernels at the bottom of the popcorn bowl and enjoys it.

John and Sherlock have a rotating cast of answers to the age old client question, "So are you two...?" which only serve to confuse the asker even more. It's an incredibly enjoyable sport. Sherlock often just plays dumb, to John's enormous amusement. It's their favorite inside joke.

When he does actually eat it, Sherlock's go-to breakfast food is a boiled egg and soldiers. Fight me. I will not stand for boiled eggs and soldiers slander they are amazing and Sherlock knows it.

John keeps a collection of bloopers/funny moments he's recorded during cases in a folder on his computer. When he's feeling down, he puts in his earplugs and listens to them. He never fails to get a laugh out of it.

Speaking of language headcanons in the last post, Sherlock speaks fluent Spanish (because of course he does). Sometimes he and Mariana have innocuous conversations in Spanish just to mess with John. He finally gets what it's like to be a stranger watching them all converse in BSL.

Sherlock has a strong appreciation for the musical arts. Once, after a particularly sour case, John took Sherlock to the orchestra to lighten his mood. Sherlock didn't express much outward enjoyment, still drained from the previous week's labor, but the next day the pieces they'd heard rang out through the flat as Sherlock's touch brought them to life from memory on his violin. John found this version infinitely more beautiful than any orchestra. and he even glimpsed the ghost of a smile as Sherlock lost himself in the music.

You know how everyone has a different little doodle they do when they're bored and they've got a pen and a bit of paper around? Well, Sherlock does mandalas and circle scribbles, John does little smiley faces and zig zags, and Mariana writes peoples names in calligraphy.

@obsessed-sketches and I both agree Sherlock wears a really heavy, well-worn coat for the deep-pressure stimulation. And a scarf, because those are absolutely splendid to play/fiddle with and being all wrapped up just adds a whole nother dimension to it all.

John uses Microsoft Edge as his default browser. Mariana's exasperated protests have been completely futile in convincing him to switch and to be honest, who knows if there's any hope left for him anymore.

Speaking of browsers, Sherlock would be such a boss at the 2048 game.

Someday I'm gonna have to write a dance lesson fic, because the idea of Sherlock teaching John to dance for a case lives in my head rent free for literally every SH rendition but these two especially. Sherlock freely infodumping about the history of each song he plays as he shows John how to waltz, John filling the silence with nervous rambling, that rapport setting in and them just falling into step after a few minutes and forgetting time is even passing... I know I mostly HC them as a QPR but dear god the intimacy in that may kill me.

Mariana once introduced Sherlock to the National Day Calendar. National Cellophane Tape Day, National Life Insurance Day, National Raspberry Popover Day, and the likes are now slipped happily into conversations at 221B under Sherlock's firm belief that each one is on par with Christmas in terms of their significance in the public eye. Slay, Sherlock. National Days are awesome.

John makes the cutest sleep noises.

Yk how i said Sherlock likes rainbow sour straps. If you've ever eaten sour straps, you'll know there are two ways to eat them: whole, or by tearing the colours into strips. Clearly, as a civilised human being, Sherlock does the latter.

SHERLOCK WOULD TOTALLY WRITE AWESOME POETRY AND READ IT OUT AND JOHN AND MARIANA WOULD BE STUNNED INTO AWESTRUCK SILENCE

Mariana wears those really big hoop earrings. You know the ones.

AAAAH i should stop before this becomes a mammoth block of text. Maybe I'll make a part three.

Thank you kindly for being unwillingly subjected to my opinions coming to my TED talk.

[nocturnowlette]

Hypnosis File Recommendations!

Previous File Recommendation Post Here

I've been gently motivated to start listening to and re-finding old hypnosis files again due to the reception to the previous post. I've been surprised at the amount of actually decent files I've come to remember, but still struggle to find many files that really blow me away. As I've said before, though, I'm a very stubborn owl.

That all being said, here are more files for your consideration.

Read all descriptions and warnings before engaging with these files. Do not engage with anything here or anything in my blog if you are under 18.

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Dr. Voidritch's Experiment by Bloof

This is a ren.py game about being being a test subject for the eccentric Dr. Voidritch and his hypnotic experiments. It's rather silly and fun, while still having real hypnosis, and fairly competently done hypnosis at that. It's best to download it instead of running on browser.

There is also a sequel to this game called Lavender Labs, though I have not tried it. It seems a lot more like a slice of life thing with dating and hypnosis from the screenshots though.

The rest of these recommendations for today will be about one person, Dragontize.

I rediscovered her shortly after the last recommendation post, and was pleasantly surprised. The best way to describe her overall vibe is "deceptively cute".

She opens every file with the same endearing tagline, "Hello world, I'm Dragontize, I messssmerize with voice and eyes." Her voice is light and enjoyable, the intonation the type to make the edges of your mind feel like they're oozing with pleasant sensations in a minute or two of talking.

Her files are much more directly practical and hypnosis-centric than most, with even her fantastical story-based files keeping a good balance. This is all to say that at a minimum, you will enjoy yourself with these files, even if they may not blow you away.

A Slice of Fractionation by Dragontize

This is how I re-found Dragontize, the actual original file with Evil Fractionation I found! I couldn't locate it for a long time, and realized that the issue was DuckDuckGo being a kinda bad search engine when it comes to specific things.

While I'm working on an Evil Fractionation file myself, this one is a nice and casual overview of it.

Brainwashing Fractionation by Dragontize

A very straightforward and enjoyable fractionation file with the light theming of becoming a member of Dragontize Inc.

For the Very Motivated Subject by Dragontize

This is maybe her best file. It does an interesting sort of thing where the file functions as if you're in the room with her, signaling multiple times that she has moved in some way, but without actually seeing her at all. It doesn't overly describe what she is doing, it's a very naturalistic sort of script in contrast to the often overdetailed storybook manner that others do.

It also very effectively plays with the concepts of anticipation and focus. It demonstrates a better understanding of the psychological aspects of hypnosis than a lot of others.

Good Little Thief by Dragontize

Lastly, a light and fun fantasy session. It's about a thief that is tasked to steal something from a wizard. That's all I'll say.

I've been enjoying going through files even if I don't find many of them super effective. I hope you all will be able to enjoy them even more than I have.