#i am small i contain chocolate milk

[finalgirllx]

self-indulgent fluff because I live somewhere cold as fuck and consume an absurd amount of hot chocolate. enjoy! 1k words | slytherin reader | sickeningly sweet | not edited | forgoes the rules in hogwarts kitchens

"Bloody hell, my dicks s'bout to freeze off," Enzo grunted, plopping down beside you as you wrapped yourself in a cocoon of blankets on one of the green-tufted leather couches that adorned the Slytherin common room.

While your home base exuded an air of regal antiquity that you had grown to appreciate throughout your years attending Hogwarts, its stellar placement in the school's dungeons meant that some evenings were more than chilly, sometimes downright freezing. While the crackling fireplaces scattered about did wonders to keep students from succumbing to frostbite during the coldest winter months, they weren't always sufficient on particularly wintry nights, especially around the holidays.

"That's certainly a visual, Enz, thanks," you responded with a small snort at his crude greeting. He shot you an unamused glance followed by an eye roll, appearing just as grumpy from the cold as you were.

"These dungeons might as well be the Arctic tonight. Can you blame me for feeling a tad paranoid?" Enzo countered, inching closer to you than usual for warmth. A fiery spark ignited in your stomach at his proximity, but you quickly dismissed it, seeing as you were merely a cozy blanket to him at the moment.

"There has to be something we could do," he lamented, clearly more agitated than you already thought. He gestured to you as you sat swathed in blankets with a mix of worry and exasperation, "Just look at you all bundled up, for blimey's sake. Cute, but damn concerning."

He called you cute. The chill could excuse the blush on your cheeks, right? Still, you wanted to pacify Enzo before he threw a fit at someone who wouldn't take so kindly to his attitude.

Thinking quickly, you brightened, an idea forming in your mind.

"A warm beverage might help. We could go make some hot cocoa?"

The way Enzo's eyes bugged out momentarily was rather amusing, as if your proposition was utterly absurd. It was, but you couldn't resist the chance to cozy up more with the Slytherin golden boy. You worried he might protest, so you used your best pleading face. His pretty brown eyes softened, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips—the first sign of warmth from him in an otherwise frosty evening.

"Yeah, sure, we can do that." ------------------------------

"I'm hardly sophisticated enough to be melting chocolate bars or anything like that. We're sticking to packets, and you'll enjoy it," you teased Enzo lightly as the saucepan warmed milk on the stove.

"Who do you think I am, the hot cocoa critic?" Enzo quipped back, retrieving two oversized mugs from a nearby cabinet. "I demand mine at precisely so-and-so degrees, with an exact 80% sweetness," he joked, earning an eye roll from you to mirror the one he had given earlier on the couch.

"I'll water yours down," you threatened, feigning annoyance though secretly reveling in the presence of the cute boy who seemed to have thawed out with your company. His slight pout quickly melted your resolve, and you dropped two cocoa packets into each mug for an extra chocolatey taste. His ability to summon a puppy-dog look with those full lips and gold-speckled eyes was a true talent.

Once the milk reached the right temperature, Enzo beat you to lift the pan and pour the steaming liquid into the mugs. You noticed he poured more into yours, so you nudged his side with a raised eyebrow as soon as he set the pan down.

"Hey, this was your idea, and you seemed even colder than me back in the common room. We're prioritizing you," Enzo justified, to which you nervously smiled, contemplating how to return his sweetness.

You rummaged the same cabinets for a container of mini marshmallows, returning with it and generously topping each mug. You made a show of adding far more marshmallows to his mug, causing Enzo to chuckle in surprise.

"That's more marshmallow than cocoa at this point!" he protested, grinning widely.

"You gave me more cocoa, so you get more marshmallows. It's only fair," you said with a nonchalant shrug, implying it couldn't be helped despite being the one to pile them on.

You both gripped the handles of your mugs and brought them to your lips, sharing a surprisingly intimate moment as your eyes met. Was drinking hot chocolate supposed to feel this tense?

After blowing on your beverage for a few seconds, you took your first sip, relishing in the immediate warmth that flooded your senses. Enzo also sighed contentedly, and you beamed at his approval. He glanced at you again, his brow furrowing momentarily before his expression shifted, his focus turning to something else. He set his mug down before raising his thumb to brush over your top lip. You froze, the flush on your face intensifying after his touch.

"Little cocoa on your lip, sorry," he muttered, his voice cracking for a moment before he then brought his thumb to his mouth, tasting the remnants he had wiped off yours. Your brain was broken for the moment. It was as if you were watching these last few instances from an outside perspective. Was he as nervous as you? Seemed impossible for someone as charismatic and cool as him.

"I, uh…," you stammered while gathering your bearings.

"Just trying to be helpful," Enzo tried to brush off his actions, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. The way his gaze never left your lips betrayed his true feelings.

Suddenly, you snapped back to reality. You couldn't let the moment slip away. This was your opportunity. Setting your mug down, you turned to face him with a shaky breath, grasping the collar of his shirt and pulling his face down to meet yours. He understood right away, meeting your lips with his without hesitation. His hands cupped your face, and though the kiss lasted only a few seconds, the passion behind it was enough to keep you both warm for the rest of the night.

As you pulled away, both stunned yet excited, Enzo mused with a satisfied grin, "I think that might have been the key to evading the cold."

You teased, "Don't underestimate the power of cocoa," to which he relented, shaking his head.

"Never, darling. Although, I might need another kiss if we're going to survive," he added with a cheeky smirk.

You smiled and leaned in for that second kiss. This evening's venture had proved to be the right decision in more ways than one, and you couldn't be more fulfilled.

[captain-lessship]

Candy Corn

A/n: and so it begins. Enjoy and forgive me when I undeniably post the rest not on my schedule I have in my head <3

Even after years of running your candy shop, You were not a sweets person. There was also a theory that you were not a sweet person.

You specifically hated chocolates. Whether they were dark, milk or white, even if they had nuts or dried fruit, you simply did not like it.

But of course, the cocoa based bars followed you where ever you went because everyone else in the world seemed to like it and you liked the money, who wouldn’t?

Yet each time you recognized your dislike of candy, you couldn’t help but think about a few interesting interactions you had seven years ago.

You sighed as you heard the bell to the shop ding, “Hello, Welcome to the House of Haroldson Chocolates, what can I do for you!” You didn’t lift your eyes from the book you were reading until a pair of shoes approached the counter.

You looked up and saw a very odd looking individual. A lanky man with brown hair and greenish eyes that was dressed in odd pattern combinations was standing there, slightly smiling at you.

“Hello! I was just planning on looking around but since you asked, what is your most popular chocolate?”

You looked him up and down, “Well, I guess it would be our dark chocolate with hazelnuts and white chocolate drizzle.”

You were still trying to figure out why he was dressed like that when he spoke again, “What’s your favorite?”

Your favorite? None. But you knew that your dad, who was the owner and therefore your boss, wouldn’t be happy if you said that.

“I’m not really a chocolate person. I prefer these.” You turned around and plucked a random jar from the wall. The jar had pink and yellow striped squares and were very shiny. “These are Strawberry Shortcake Drops.”

“Can I taste one?” He asked, you thought about it before slipping on a glove on one hand and opening the jar with the other. You plucked one of the squares from the container and gave it to the man.

He popped it into his mouth, eyes turning from joyful to very deep in thought, as if he was trying to taste every single grain of sugar and drop of flavoring. He was entertaining to say the least. You couldn’t help but take one yourself and eat it, trying to see if there was something wrong.

Nope. Vanilla. Strawberry. It was right.

“Is this really your favorite? You don’t seem to like it.” He asked.

“If I am being honest, I do not like chocolate or candy.”

He looked surprised at this, “Why?” He couldn’t fathom that someone dressed as fun in a pale pink dress shirt, striped tie and white pants as you were could dislike candy. It just didn’t seem right.

You shrugged, “Just isn’t my thing. But do you like them?”

His brain was temporarily fried over the fact that someone could dislike sweets. “They’re good. Could I get a small bag of them and a bar of the dark chocolate you talked about earlier?”

You nodded as you began getting his order together. He watched you intently as you pulled a bar of chocolate from the case and filled a bag with the candies, noting the care you took with each part of the order.

As you handed it to him and took the money from him, he smiled at you, “I will find a chocolate you’ll like.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I don’t like chocolate Mister…”

“Willy Wonka.” He said. He then stole a glance at your name tag. It was a nice name.

“Mister Willy Wonka.” You smiled.

[piko-rose]

Under the Moonlight - Part 1 - Legend of Dark Gaia

WHO'S HUNGRY FOR SOME WACHOWSKI HALLOWEEN STORIES?? (I am at least XD)

THIS STORY IS VERY LONG BUT WILL BE IN PARTS SO DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT.

Quick note: This story takes place before the sequel. Any Sonic Movie story I write like this one will be a pre-sequel story.

After a long, fun night of trick or treating, Sonic was about to head home, but came across an old friend. He thought he wanted to get some ghost stories out of him, but he was not expecting to hear something so... Nightmarish.

-

Orange, red and yellow of the leaves slowly rain down to the neighborhood in Green Hills. Sundown is completely gone, all is left is the light of the moon in the dark sky, lurking behind the almost leaf-free trees.

Children and teens of all kinds ran down the sidewalks, most on the roads, to hurry to the next houses for more of the sweet, sugary goodness that is Halloween candy.

The best kind of candy.

One group of kids come across a small house, the front lawn decorated with fake tombstones and funny looking skeletons, which appeared to be dancing by the tree.

And the door already greets them with such a, not-so threatening message: "Knock, if you dare."

One younger kid, who is dressed up as a cowgirl, rings the doorbell, and raises her small blue pumpkin bucket up high before the door opens. So did the rest of the group.

One other kid in the center of the group comes up front, the kid being Sonic, wearing a black cape with worn out gloves with "blood stains" on the tips of his fingers. He was sporting fake fangs and has red makeup drizzled down from his mouth.

He thought a vampire was the best choice for his first Halloween costume.

The door opens, revealing a young man holding an purple bowl, with drawings of spider webs going around it. The bowl was half empty, but it contained chocolates of all kinds, from milk chocolate, to peanut butter, to caramel.

"Trick or treat!" The group exclaimed, holding out their buckets and bags full of candy. "Hey, cool costumes, you guys!" They said, grabbing handfuls of chocolates and gave them to each kid.

"You guys look reeeaaal spooky, tonight. Especially you, Johnny, super scary!" They chuckled, complimenting the young boy wearing an iconic Pennywise outfit.

"What about me?" Sonic asked, being handed with a few candy bars. "Do I look spooky too?"

"Oh, yeah! You look spooky, alright! Awesome costume, Sonic!" They said.

Sonic slightly pumps his fists and quietly exclaimed, "Yes!"

In no time, all the kids got their chocolates and walked off, waving goodbye to the man. "Happy Halloween!" They all said.

Sonic also waved goodbye before leaving. "Thank you! And Happy Halloweeeeeeeeen!" He said in a spooky tone, clawing his hands before almost dropping his bucket. He giggled and ran off. "You too!" They said before closing the door.

Sonic approached Tom, with a huge smile on his face. "This night is AWESOME! I got SO much candy so far! Check it out!" He then shows off his pumpkin shaped bucket which was filled to the brim with lots of different candies.

"I got chocolates candies, sour candies, even bubble gum! And that's not even half of what I got!" He shrieked with joy, looking inside his bucket. "I know I said this a hundred times already, but, I LOVE HALLOWEEN!!"

"I know." The sheriff said, also smiling. He couldn't get enough of seeing this small hedgehog being happy over this night. "And you actually said it 17 times tonight."

"You counted?"

"Of course I did."

"...Nah, it wasn't too much."

"Right."

The vampire hedgehog then switched his bucket to his other hand, as his fingers were getting sore from the heavy bucket. "Ouch..." He then moved his fingers a little bit to give them more circulation.

"Alright! On to the next house!" He said, as he was about to run off when suddenly the Donut Lord held him by the arm. "Whoa, there! Hang on." He spoke.

"What, what? What is it? Why are we stopping?" Sonic said, getting eager and a little bit impatient to wait before heading to another house. Even his knees were bouncing non stop.

"It's almost eight o'clock." Tom looked at his phone. The clock was just a few minutes until eight. "And??" Sonic placed his gloved hand on his hip.

"It's getting late, and the day is almost over. It's time for us to head home, bud." Tom said, almost regretting saying that, considering how much fun Sonic has been having.

And he called it, as Sonic's ears flopped down and he just looked almost devastated. "What? Already?! Aw, come on!" He whined, kicking the ground. "Halloween can't be over yet! Can we go trick or treating for a few more minutes?? Please????" He cupped his hands together, pleading.

"Sorry, but we can't stay out here too late. Halloween is over til next year." He patted his head, hoping that information will calm him down.

He knew it wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot.

"I can't wait until next year. This is my first ever Halloween with you, Tom." He said sadly, looking at the ground. "I was having so much fun..."

"Hey, it's alright. Don't be sad because it's over. Be happy that it happened!" Tom placed his hand on Sonic's shoulder. "I was having fun too, and trust me, next year will be even more fun, and even more spooooookyyyyy!" Tom wiggled his fingers at the hedgehog, trying to look intimidating, but Sonic laughed at the sight.

At least that cheered him up.

"Haha! You're right! Next year will be even better than this one! I already have plans for my next costume!" He said, giggling, and looking all better already.

"Well, that was fast." Tom said, walking along with Sonic. "Duh, that's what I'm known for." Sonic jokingly boasted, catching up to him.

"I'll give you a hint: BRRAAAAIINNS!!" Sonic roared, reaching his hands out and walking slowly and weakly like a zombie.

"Oh, boy. I wonder what it could be..." Tom taps his chin with his finger, pretending to think really hard on what this costume could be.

"I'm gonna go all out on that costume next year! Just you wait!" He beamed up a confident smile, thinking on how his zombie costume will look.

Maddie was the one who helped out his costume, and even buying an extra pair of gloves to make it look better. He knows that she can make a great zombie costume.

"Why not a zombot? That's more iconic."

"Ehhhh, I'm good." He chuckled nervously. "I'll just stick to old school, thank you very much."

Sonic cringed at the memory of his first horror movie night with Tom, Maddie and Wade. It was just gonna be the three of them, but the moment Sonic over heard them say "horror," he couldn't take no for an answer.

He wished he did though. He wasn't expecting Night of The Zombots to be so... Gory.

At least Nicholas Cage looked pretty badass in the film.

"And I thought Poltergeist was freaking scary..." He mumbled to himself.

"I heard that."

"The movie wasn't that scary! Besides, you can tell the CGI was fake even from the first viewing!" He crossed his arms, trying to act tough.

"It was from the 2000s, it was the first Visual Effects movie Studiopolis Productions worked on." Tom stated.

"Whatever."

"You should see the remake. It's twice as scary." Tom teased.

"Oh, God, there's a remake?!" Sonic squealed with concern.

And he blinked. "Uh, I mean, I bet that movie also sucked."

"Hey, now." Donut Lord said, kneeling down to Sonic's level. "Don't hide the fact that the movie made you feel uncomfortable, alright? You even admitted it yourself that night."

"I'm just not used to expressing myself, dude. You know that."

"I do know that, but I'm here to remind that your feelings matter, okay?"

"...I knew that." He smile crept on his muzzle.

"Okay, let's head home." Tom continued walking off with Sonic alongside, bucket still in his hand. Sonic watched all the kids and teens in different costumes roaming the streets. He felt sad at first, but smiled once again knowing that he'll be able to do this all over again next year.

He really does love Halloween.

-

"Finally, we made it home." Tom sighed, happy to see his house. Sonic didn't even knew that the house was close by cause his mind was elsewhere. "Already? Geez."

"What's up, buddy?"

"Didn't you see that one house that was covered in egg yolk a few minutes ago??" He points behind him.

"Ahh, must've been Karen and Issac's little trick." Tom barked slightly. The young teens are pretty rebellious, and not in a good way. They get in trouble in school more times than anyone else in town, and sometimes draw nasty messages on buildings.

And to make them worse, they despise Sonic, even though he saved the town not too long ago.

They always call him dumb nicknames like "man-hog" or "blue rat." Sonic always hated "man-hog" the most.

But he brushed them off, he knew they were just jealous because he's the one who saved the town from Robotnik. But, of course, Issac and Karen are a total pain to not just Sonic, but to the majority of Green Hills.

Especially Wade.

"...Oh." Sonic just now realized who that house belonged to. "Poor Wade..."

"That's the third Halloween in a row." Tom shook his head.

"I hope it's easy to clean off."

"Trust me, it was not." He knew from experience.

Sonic was able to see his house from a distance, and he can already see his own fake tombstones and other spooky decorations and fake webs swaying in the gentle wind.

He smiled, excited to show Maddie all the candy he got tonight.

He was about to move forward but then suddenly notice a bright light from within the forest far from the house. It drove his attention away from the house and idea of heading back home.

What was that just now? He thought, looking behind him and looking closely into the woods.

Nothing else was happening. The light didn't even appear again. Maybe it was just his imagination?

"Hmm..."

"Buddy?" Tom called out, just realizing that Sonic stopped walking and is now ahead of him. "I, uh... I'll be right back." Sonic said, zooming straight into the forest, along with his bucket of candy.

"Sonic?!" Tom cried out. "Where are you going??" Sonic was already gone by the time he finished his question.

-

Sonic continued walking through the woods searching for the source of the light that went by earlier. He had ideas on what that was.

A car driving by? Perhaps.

Some guy wearing a super bright costume? Maybe...

A firefly? ...Yeah, no. That's not it.

"Hello?" Sonic called out. "Anybody out here?"

There was no response, but he kept searching anyway.

He came to a halt however, when he suddenly saw the light peaking through the trees. It's the same one from before. He found it!

Sonic zipped straight to the source, only to find...

"An RV?" Sonic looked around it, realizing how familiar it looked. "Hey... This is-"

"Blue Devil!"

A voice cried out, making Sonic jumped and dropped his bucket, pouring out candy onto the ground. "My candy!" He panicked, grabbing them back to the bucket quickly. "Nonononono..."

"Ahh, didn't mean to frighten ya." The voice spoke from close by. Sonic, while he was still putting candy back, looked up to see none other than Carl putting away his things into the RV. It was hard to tell, but he had a small smile behind that bushy beard of his.

"Crazy Carl! it's been a while, old pal! I thought you were at Spring Valley?" Sonic said, picking back up his bucket, all the candy back inside.

"Ah just wanna pay a little visit before ah head back." He spoke. "Maybe sometime the next day I should give the sheriff a good ol' visit and-" Carl was then distracted by Sonic's costume. "That's a... Interesting outfit ya have there."

"Like it? I'm a vampire!" Sonic said, clawing his gloved hands, looking spooky. "BLEECH!"

Carl was unamused. "Ya call that scary? How is a vampire scary?"

"You don't like it? ...Rude."

"It's called an 'honest opinion,' ya Blue Devil. Ah've seen scarier things than a vampire out of all things."

"Oh?" Sonic raised a brow from that statement. "Knowing you, and considering the time of year," Sonic's smile grew wider, in love with the sudden idea that just popped into his head. "Perhaps maybe you should... Oh, I don't know..."

"What? Spit it out, already." Carl demanded calmly.

"Heheh." This is gonna be good.

"Carl, you must've seen and heard about a lot of interesting stories in your life. I would love to know these stories and why they are so much more scarier than vampires." Sonic placed down his bucket on the ground in front of his feet.

"Well now, you better be takin' these stories seriously. These aren't just like those phony ghost stories the children often tell." Carl began. "These are real. Very much real." He said, in the coldest tone possible.

"In that case, enough stalling. What story do you have in mind, buddy ol' pal?" He crossed his arms, ready to hear some of Crazy Carl's tales. "Please, make me shudder in fear." He "pleaded."

"If that's what ya truly want..."

Sonic then grabbed his bucket closer to him as he sat down to the closest log. He kicked his feet slightly, eager to hear this spooky story.

"Now, this tale is even older than I am. Passed down from generation to generation in this very part of the woods. It's well known back in Spring Valley, but most parts of your town was effected by it as well." He began.

"'It?' Who, or what, is 'it?'"

"Dark Gaia."

The hedgehog's eyes grew with fascination. "Dark Gaia? You mean like... Gaia as in Earth? I think Maddie taught me about that one-"

"Blue Devil, don't interrupt."

"Sorry, haha. I'll stay quiet."

"Anyways," Carl continued his story.

"The legend of Dark Gaia came from an incident that happened a few hundred years ago, just after Green Hills was founded. Dark Gaia itself was a large, dark being unlike any creature. Horror beyond comprehension."

"Like a being from hell."

"Sheesh..." Sonic said to himself. He continued to listen to Carl's story.

"The creature never dares to come out from the Earth, only it's energy and it's vile minions called Nightmares. It's Dark Gaia energy is an, almost invisible like smoke, that roams the woods, searching for their new Nightmare for the Dark Gaia."

"The Nightmares are big beings, their bodies have glowing auras that even the blindest of critters can see. They have blue and red marking on their shoulders and face, and their number one priority? Consume a living, breathing being's soul, to help them become stronger."

The hedgehog is super intrigued, if not, creeped out. Maybe it's both.

"You ever come across a Nightmare, that's it. You can't escape 'em. The moment they see you, that's the end of your story. Never to be seen or heard of again. Thankfully, it's been too long since a Nightmare has been spotted, but the Dark Gaia's energy still roams about the forest of Spring Valley and most of Green Hills."

Sonic looked around a bit, searching for anything strange like the energy Carl was talking about, but he continued listening.

"Three young men wanted to explore Spring Valley, and perhaps find something valuable along the way. It was a full moon that night. Just like tonight."

Sonic looked up at the dark sky, and there it was. The moon, full and bright. He felt a cold sweat. He looked back at Carl.

"Dark Gaia's energy, including the Nightmares, only appears during a full moon. They can't roam around in broad daylight, and only appear during the midnight hour. The moon will glow a light shade of purple once the time comes, and the young men made a grim mistake that faithful night."

"Dark Gaia energy sometimes seeks through the ground, escaping the Earth to finds it's new minion. Once it does, you better get your butt out of there woods, unfortunately for the men, they didn't follow that rule."

"One fella felt strange just after a few minutes of being in the woods. He ignored the raging feeling of Dark Gaia's energy, infesting his brain with feral thoughts, thoughts filled with rage and hunger."

"It wasn't too long before his friends come across him on the ground, in pain, the Dark Gaia energy unleashing from his body, completely transforming him into something awful."

"He was partiality a Dark Gaia creature, fur purple, with a hint of a darker blue. He was bigger, and more muscle than he was before. He's grown sharp claws, and his teeth have grown sharper as well. He's was a half complete monster."

Sonic lets out a small gasp.

"He was still himself, but the feral thoughts kept trying to reach out, begging him to rip his friends to shreds and join Dark Gaia. Legends also says however, that there is a way to rid of the Dark Gaia's energy from your body, and bring you back."

"It was the Light Gaia's bracelet, hidden somewhere in Green Hills. But from where they are, Green Hills was too far, and the moment they reached their destination, it was too late. His feral instincts took over and one of his friends... Never made it alive."

Sonic's eyes grew in horror. "Wh... What about-?"

"The other was fine. ...For a while. When the infested friend attacked him, some of Dark Gaia's energy went inside of him. When the sun came up, the beast disappeared into the woods and was ascended into the Earth, forever one with Dark Gaia, never to be cured."

"And soon will be his friend the next full moon. For now, it was just him and his inner thoughts haunting him for days. No one in town believed him when he told them everything. Some folks venture into the woods to see what the commotion was about."

"Last mistake they ever made in their lives..."

Sonic covered his mouth slightly.

"Dark Gaia's energy is still out here somewhere, hundreds and hundreds of years later. It's been a long time since the Dark Gaia found it's new minions, but I highly doubt Dark Gaia will give up."

Crazy Carl lets out a long exhausted sigh.

"I believe it is impossible to avoid Dark Gaia, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to rid of it. That is, if Light Gaia's bracelet is found, of course. Many folks were unlucky to come across a Nightmare, but becoming one is the worst of all."

"No one knows, not even Dark Gaia itself, knows who the next victim will be. I might be the town's sheriff."

Sonic's eyes grew more.

"Or maybe the deputy, Whipple."

They grew again.

"Or maybe even me."

Sonic held his own hand, wanting Carl to stop talking already.

Carl's brow furrowed. "Or maybe..." Carl then stared right at the blue hedgehog. "Maybe..."

Sonic gasped again.

"It might..."

Sonic felt a cold chill in the air.

"Be..."

Could it be...?

"Sonic??" A voice called out.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Both Tom and Crazy Carl both jumped at Sonic's sudden cry of terror. He breathed rather quickly, his mind still on the Dark Gaia story. Carl was slightly surprised to see Sonic like that.

"Ya didn't have to take it that seriously."

Tom looked over to see Carl. It all makes sense now. "Ah... Carl. It's been a while." He spoke flatly. "What are you doing out here?"

"Visiting." He responded. "Your Blue Devil here come up out here wanting to say 'hi.'"

Tom looked to see the hedgehog turning around to see his best friend. "Tom!" He cried and ran up to him, jumping up to give him a big hug. "I was looking all over for you, buddy! Why'd you run off?"

"My lights caught his attention."

"Carl, what did you do?" Tom looked back at Crazy Carl, with a stern look in his eyes.

"Reminding him about Dark Gaia. Remember, Wachowski, it's a full moon tonight." Carl warned quietly. "Keep that kid of yours safe. From it."

"...What?"

"Alright, I'm off. Nice seein' ya, ya Blue Devil! You too, sheriff!" He exclaimed before walking back inside the RV. Tom shook his head, not standing the audacity of that guy.

"Ooookay, I'm not sure what the heck just happened, but we're heading back home. Maddie's waiting for us." Tom said, carrying the shaking hedgehog back to the house.

"But Tom! Dark Gaia! What if it's out here?!" Sonic said, looking around the forest frantically. Tom groaned. "Sonic, there's no such thing as Dark Gaia. It's just a silly story made up by some kids a long time ago."

"But Crazy Carl said the story was real!"

"Carl tends to believe in a lot of stupid crap. That's his style. Now don't worry about it."

"Oh, yeah? How about that time when he told you guys about the 'Blue Devil,' which turned out to be real, who by the way, is ME??"

"Well- I- That's different."

"HOW IS THAT DIFFERENT?!"

"Sonic, please, just calm down. Okay? There is no Dark Gaia energy coming to get you. You hear me? You're fine. There is no Dark Gaia energy." Tom reassured, looking at the hedgehog.

Sonic sighed, looking at the ground. "Okay... Fine. I believe you."

"Okay. Good. ...Hey, where's your-?"

"MY BUCKET!"

Sonic jumped back on the ground, looking for his Halloween bucket. "Buddy," Tom spoke. "it's over there." He pointed to the bucket next to the log.

"Uhhh..." Sonic looked at the bucket, then into the abyss that is the woods, where possibly Nightmares and Dark Gaia energy are lurking. "You get it, I'm not going back there."

"For the love of..." Tom massaged the bridge of his nose. "Sonic, there's no Dark Gaia, okay? It's fine, go get your bucket. It'll take you about 0.4 seconds to grab it and head home."

"R-Right. I knew that. I'll just..." Sonic takes one small step. Then stopped.

"...Sonic."

"Right, right, Sorry. I'll get my bucket and..."

He took another step.

And another.

And another.

"Sonic, I promise you, you're okay." Tom said softly.

Sonic inhaled...

Then exhaled.

"I'm not scared. I am not scared.

He quickly grabbed his bucket and ran off screaming, leaving trails of candy behind.

"...Well, that was easy." Tom said to himself.

He began picking up the pieces of candy as he follows down the trail Sonic ran off to.

-

To be continued...

-

[maggyme13]

Moving above the Underworld (1/?)

Ellie just moved into a new flat. Introducing herself to her downstairs neighbor with a cake she did not realize what the future held for her and him. And what had an asshole coworker to do with it?

AN: I never saw Sand Castle and only know about Captain Syverson because of the Henry Cavill Character Rabbithole of Fanfiction. But I thought he would fit the best (visually), so I chose him.

Don´t like-> Don´t Read Minors DNI

Warning: asshole Coworkers, This Series WILL contain dubcon! Wordcount: Around 2k

Masterlist Series-Masterlist

„Finally, the last box is empty. Only took me- what- a month?“, the young woman groaned. Her back was hurting from lifting too much heavy lumber at work. “Now, I gotta get food in the oven and take my hard owned shower. And why am I talking to myself again? If he hears me, he won´t look at me all grumpy but as I am crazy as well. Gotta tone it down, Ellie.” Stripping her dusty work clothes, she made her way into the small bathroom of her apartment. It had dark gray tiles on the floor, with Creme-colored walls, a toilet, a bathtub with a shower, and a sink with a mirrored cabinet above it. Her washing machine and dryer were in a small adjoined room next door. “Still got to introduce myself to my neighbor properly. Now that he is back from his holidays. Guess I could bake something. What do I have in the pantry? What do I have… Flour, sugar, eggs, milk, chocolate, baking powder. Mhm...”, she continued thinking out loud while washing her longish dark-blonde hair and face, “I could make some Straciatella cake with chocolate topping and split one dough into two servings. I could do with something sweet for my breaks.” Ellie fought getting some dried varnish off her arms. “Tomorrow is Friday. That means he should be home when I get off work, right? I still can leave it at his door with a note either way.” Dressed in some of her most comfortable clothes and with her hair up in a towel Ellie ate her Pizza while also preparing the cake dough. If she sat down to eat, she knew she would never be able to get back up and get her shit done. “Note to myself: Get more painkillers at the pharmacy tomorrow.”, she groaned again when a sting of pain spread through her spine, “Would only be half this bad if the idiot would have helped me instead of taking like ten smoke breaks.” She had just placed the pan in the oven when the sound of a door closing and being locked reached her ears; her neighbor was leaving it seemed. He was always gone at strange and unscheduled times, and the woodworker wondered what his job was that he had no schedule. But she was too shy to ask. Not that it was any of her business. “Forty minutes to wait. Hope this works out.” ___

Before she left her flat, she quickly the molten chocolate over the cakes so it would be ready once she returned late that afternoon. “Let´s see if I can even move tonight. Would be nice though.”, she wondered aloud after one last stretch. Just when she wanted to open the front door it was opened from the outside. Her neighbor had returned. He was a giant of a man. Nearly two meters in height with shaved hair, a short full beard, and muscles. His arms were close to the width of her lower legs, his torso as wide as an old beer keg, and his legs fit the rest of that body. When Ellie had seen him the first time she had believed a god stood before her. Cheesy, she knew, but that was the first thought that had crossed her mind. As usual, he was wearing all black: Black shirt, trousers, and shoes. That showed off his tattoo-covered arms and the crook of his neck. He was no one she wanted to cross paths with when he was angry or in a dark alleyway. “G-Good morning.”, she greeted as usual with a small smile on her lips. “´Morning.”, he rumbled back, not cold but tired sounding. Listening to her music, Ellie made her way to the nearby subway station that would bring her to her workplace. Each day she traveled one hour to and from work. And whenever she had to make overtime, she hated it even more.

___

“G-Good evening, Sir. I am sure- cut that- I know you know I moved into the flat a-above you a few weeks back. I- I had no time to introduce myself properly so here I am. Name´s Ellie Miller. I am a skilled Woodworker. Please let me know if I am too loud or do something wrong. And I can leave my number in case something happens.”, she stumbled over her words. Far too shy and nervous standing in front of her neighbor. “Mhrmm.”, he answered quirking one of his eyebrows. His gray eyes staring right into her soul it seems. “Oh- I. I made a cake as an introductory gift. I hope you are not allergic to anything.”, Ellie handed him the box with the cake, “I will leave you to it then. Ha- Have a nice evening.” Fighting the urge to bow (whichever), the woman turned and walked back up to her apartment, feeling his eyes on her back until she closed the door behind her. “That was scary.”, she breathed out, her back pressed against the closed door. The box was returned to her the next Monday morning, clean and with a note that stated: ´Thank you. Welcome to the house.´ The grateful smile that danced around her lips after reading those words only left when she stepped into the workshop and was met by her favorite coworker. He was in his early forties, friends with the boss, and believed women belonged behind a counter and not a band- or circular saw. But he could not get rid of her. Both her work ethic and the results of her work were perfect and not once a customer complained about her. “Boss wants to have a word with you.”, he sneered and Ellie sighed. What had she done now? “You wanted to see me, Sir?”, she asked once stepped into the office. “Your new tasks. Make sure not to mess them up this time. And no more leaving early. Now back to work!”, her Boss told her without looking at her at all. “Yes, Sir.”, she mumbled, taking the binders with her. She had three weeks to build a whole (though small) kitchen, one bedroom interior, one sideboard beneath a sink, and an office table. “Oh joy, over time. Again.”, she groaned, her head hitting the top of her workstation, “At least the table and bedroom are made of oak. We have enough of that lying around. Let´s get that done, I guess. No moving tonight again. Yayy.”

____

It was the Saturday after she had finished the given tasks (with high praises from the customers) and was finally able to relax a bit. And that usually meant doing nothing (productive) all day long, wearing her most comfortable clothes (or sleepwear), maybe some baking, and reading. This time her choice fell on a simple but delicious apple cake with cinnamon-sugar crumbles, and so she got to work. “This one will taste incredible with some fresh whipped cream.”, Ellie hummed. She had last made it a few months back and she yearned for it now that she smelled it again. Her kitchen was clean, she grabbed a cup of tea and launched herself into her couch with the book she was reading at that moment in time. “DAMN. It smells like a bakery in here! I am getting hungry just standing here.”, a man exclaimed in the hallway. He seemed to have a Latin-American accent,” Didn´t know you could use a kitchen without blowing it up.” “My neighbor. She tends to do it often.”, her neighbor answered in a neutral tone. “Think I could ask for some?”, the first man asked and Ellie perked up. “We have shit to do.”, now her neighbor sounded slightly annoyed. “Spoilsport.”, that last mumble of the foreigner made her chuckle, and decided to put some cake and whipped cream in a container and hang it on her neighbor's doorknob. A whole sheet was far too much for one person to eat. Even though when that person was a bit chubby. Two hours later, she did just that, with a small note attached that read: ´I overheard you earlier. Sorry for listening in. I made far too much for one person, so please enjoy it. I hope it was okay that I placed it on your doorknob. I did not want to interrupt whatever you were doing ~ Ellie.´ From that day on, whenever she made something, she would put it in a container on a little stool she placed next to the stairs leading up to her apartment. And every time the container would be empty and clean the coming day. She did not do that because she wanted something in return, but because she loved to bake and share (it). Around that time Ellie started to feel like she was being followed whenever she left the house. No matter where she went. If it was to work, on the way to customers, shopping for groceries, or simply for a walk through the neighborhood. At first, the feeling was only sporadic and every other day, but once she had realized the feeling. She got more and more aware of it, but whenever she was to look around, no one was there that looked suspicious. Up to a point where she had anxiety attacks only thinking about leaving through her door. Two months into that situation Ellie almost knocked out one of the Coworkers she liked with a piece of wood when he had startled her at work. She apologized profusely and promised baked goods as an apology. He declined. But asked if she was alright. She told him yes, that she was simply overworked and ready for her days off the upcoming week. But of course, it should not be that easy for her. The last Customer was screaming to her, that she was a failure and knew nothing about what she was doing. That she should quit and be a housewife like a real woman would. It took everything for within her to not start to cry, and because she had managed to do just that, she treated herself to a ´feel-good´ hot chocolate. Again, the dreaded feeling of being under surveillance crept up her spine and she hurried home to order some food from a local Italian restaurant. With how her day had been, she needed her favorite comfort food. Exited for a calm(er) evening with incredible food, she opened the door for the delivery guy. Who was in his mid-thirties, with oily skin, unruly hair, and some dirt on his uniform. He smelled of booze, but that could be caused by the large stain on his shirt. It seemed like someone had dumped his beer on him. Not being one to judge someone who was looking the way he was, anyone had a bad day once in a while. Heck, she just had one THAT day. Her friendly demeanor left though when the man whistled lewdly and

started to make inappropriate comments. “Thank you, for your delivery, Sir.”, she smiled, trying to close the door on him. He put his hand between the door and frame to stop her from doing so and pushed the door open again. “What are you doing tomorrow? Say at 6 pm.”, he grinned. “Nothing of your concern. Now have a nice evening.”, she tried again but he did not budge. “Go on a date with me and I´ll leave.” Ellie just wanted to tell him off again when the main door opened again. “Your Car is blocking my spot.”, her neighbor stated after a second he needed to take in the scene before him,” Get it moving or I´ll call your boss.” “Sorry, Sir. Think about it Sweetheart.”, the man winked before finally leaving. “No thank you.”, the woman whispered more to herself than anything else, before addressing her savior, “Thank you for that. H-he did not take No for an answer.” “You good?”, he asked, his eyes roaming over her like he was looking for any injuries. “Yes, Thank you again.”, and with that, she returned to her kitchen to hopefully be able to relax. Part 2

AN: Thank you for reading! Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!:)

[fireintheflames]

Some General Low Energy Cooking Ideas Pt 1

As we head towards fall here in Michigan, I'm gonna start losing my summer energy, so I thought I'd put together a list of relatively low energy meals/snacks now so when the big annual winter depression hits I don't have to think about it and I eat less delivery! I've also labeled which ones don't need a fridge, because my fridge is like a weird cursed location where if it goes in, it doesn't come out. This is a multi-part series, since I will probably run out of space!

Pt 1: No Cooking/No Dishes/Minimal Clean-up These meals require the bare minimum of effort. No heating, no dishes, most only have a wrapper as trash. Downside is a lot of these can be expensive for what you get. Breakfast: -High Cost:Cliff/Granola/Protein Bars. I keep a box around at all times for breakfast, I really like the caffeinated ones because I hate making coffee in the morning! A nice, easy treat! Can be expensive, but you pay for convenience I guess. (No fridge required) -Gummi vitamins! No calories, but a little treat to start the day! I do a multivitamin, vitamin D, and fiber chews. (No fridge required) -No prep fruits, like grapes. I keep a bowl full of whatever was on sale (apples, plums, ect.) on my counter to eat, and always have bananas (more on those later). (No fridge if you buy small amounts and eat it consistently, fridge is necessary for bulk storage of most fresh fruits) -Pre-cut fruits, like the kind fruit trays have. Same concept, more refrigeration, more likely to contain watermelon (I suck at hydrating, watermelon is my friend) (Fridge absolutely required, these will get nasty fast if left out). -Dried fruits, especially craisins/raisins. Just bare fist those straight out of the container. (No fridge required) Can be combined with the below: -Cereal out of the bag! Works best with cereal with big chunks and no powders, think like Kix or captain crunch. Avoid cinnamon toast crunch and similar beasts, your hands get coated and sticky. (No fridge required) -Small yogurt drinks, like yakult or kafir. Single serve milk or juice cartons can also fill this niche, but I've only got one fridge and I am more likely to drink the yogurt. (Please keep yogurt and milk in the fridge. Juice boxes are usually shelf stable, but always check!) -Trail mix. Kars is the best, pick your flavor. Or you can make your own in advance and live off that! (No fridge required) -UCC canned coffee. This stuff is the bomb if you can find it. It's like the only non-sweet coffee drink out there. (No fridge required, but definitely best when cold. Can in theory be heated in a mug, but that's cooking adjacent for me) -High Cost: Soylent drink/meal replacement shakes/drinks. An absolute last resort, usually expensive and bad tasting, but damn if they don't replace a meal. This is specifically referring to the pre-made ones, not the powder. The coffee mocha Soylent is tolerable, otherwise pick your poison between weirdly powdery chocolate milks. (Don't get the ones that need refrigeration unless you like them. I don't, this is my desperation food and does not deserve a place in my fridge).

Lunch/Dinner: -Snack pack tuna kits. My go to for lunch, usually comes with crackers, a tuna salad can, the big ones have cookies and fruit! Run usually between $1.00 and $3.00, depending on size and brand! I like the Rosemary and Garlic ones from bumblebee. You can also make your own with tuna pouches/cans and crackers, but that does require a spoon. (No fridge required) -Lunchables. Pizza lunchables. Get the kind with the juice box when they are on sale, off brand works just as well! (Should be kept in a fridge, but probably fine for a day or two if you forget) -Baby carrots/snap peas/tiny tomatos. Get some veggies in ya! Best when fresh picked, but this is winter in MI, so more likely bought from meijer.(Fridge recommended if you don't want them to dry out, or if you don't eat the whole bag at once. Fresh picked during summer should be eaten straight off the plant, as nature intended (or rinsed for safety)) -Cheese sticks and meat, I usually go with pepperoni or beef jerky, but in theory any pre-cooked non-heated meat works. (Fridge highly recommended) -Pita bread and pre-made tabbouleh. This shit is the bomb. No need for a plate, that's what the pita's for! (Refrigerate the tabbouleh, if any survives. I will eat a container of tabbouleh in one go. It's so good! You can sub hummus, I just don't like the texture) -Chips and salsa. I just dip straight into the jar, but I understand that is both bad form and not always feasible. Tostitos scoops work best for this maneuver. Can also be done with cheese dips and pretzels, queso in jars, and any other sort of pre-made dip. (Some dips require a fridge, some don't. Chips and pretzels do not). -High cost: Shrimp cocktail platter. Remember to thaw, then eat. Best when paired with veggies. (Freezer/Fridge Required)

Deserts/Snacks (obviously there are whole aisles dedicated to this at most American grocery stores. I'm just gonna list my favorites that have some form of built in portions. You will note that I like crunchy textures.): -Strawberry wafer cookies. Even the low sugar ones are good! Nice and crunchy. Pirouettes and similar also fall in this category(No fridge required) -Fig newtons! Apple newtons! Most neutigrain bars! Date bars Give me some fruit filling!(No fridge required) -Cherry poptarts, frosted. Pretty much any "breakfast pastry" works better as a desert for me. Many granola bars fall in this category as well (looking at you, peanut butter chewy dippers). If it's marketed to kids, it's a dessert for me! (No fridge required, but General Mills Chewy Dipeprs are best cold.) -Fruit snacks, especially the fruit veggie snacks. Individual packs are good for me, because these things are the bomb!(No fridge required) -Any of the Kalbee baked snacks. Pea pods, shrimp chips, weird crab flavored things my beloved. They stab you when you eat them, thus preventing me from eating them all!(No fridge required) -Salt and vinegar chips. They prevent you from eating too many by being physically painful. Kettle chipped increases both the damage and delight.(No fridge required) -High Cost:Ice cream novelties~ Popsicles! Orangesicles! Klondike bars! I really like Coconut Outshine bars, they are expensive but so good!! (Freezer required)

[agent-flyingfox]

Hello there sir! I am Buggy, one of the agents from the agency! I have a small question for you, or two actually

What is your favorite candy?

And what is your least favorite food? Not like allergic but just something you think tastes horrible

Not asking because of any halloween tricks or treats of anything im just curious yep no schemes at all!

"Oh! What a fun question.

I haven't thought of my favourite sweets in a long time. Not since I was a teenager, I think. Very nostalgic.

I remember the White Rabbit milk lollies. They have a nice edible rice paper wrapper. Gula-Gula Udang is similar in that sense. Not sure if either is my favourite though... there's too much to choose from. I always liked the cartoons on Kandos Chocolates...and Hawthorn Flakes were always quite fun.

Hm... But Iced Gem Biscuits were the best. I don't really know if they count as a "Candy" since they're half biscuit. But I always ate the meringe icing first - sometimes throwing the the biscuit away entirely. Surely that counts!

If Halloween is anything like Hari Raya, well, I know what I'd look forward to. Food for thought for our handouts too. I'll be happy to share these Singaporean Sweets with you all!

As for my least favourite food. That's far easier.

The Meat Pie. Of the British or Australian/New Zealand type, doesn't matter. They're the same to me.

What a sorry excuse for a pastry. The gravy is thick with nothing but fat. Where's the flavour? The seasoning? I can't even detect what kind of animal I am putting in my mouth. And that texture...like ground up rubber lathered in some sort of meaty butter, and sprinkles of vague and dubious bone. Crunching into something that you don't even know and having to swallow it with fear of being rude. The soggy, slimy pastry that tries to contain the filling while it oozes out of the corners? It does nothing to save this food. No structural integrity, no flavour, horrible texture, I can't imagine anything worse than this. The nerve that the Australians have, putting tomato sauce on it as if that makes anything better.

I say, just have an Epok-Epok. That does everything a meat pie could ever wish to do. I know I got heated up there. I have every right to be angry about this. I appreciate that you've invited me to talk about this as it's bothered me for years.

I'm sure you won't use any of this information for schemes or mischief of any sort. Absolutely."

Kind regards,

Agent Flying Fox

[iliketrainmen]

Okay okay I have very strong opinions on these so I am allowing myself to express them just this once. There are probably one or two hot takes in here.

Candy corn: I don't understand why it's so hated. Is it a meme? Some sort of sick joke? I don't know, but they're beyond underrated because of it. They have just the right amount of squish, making it satisfying but not difficult or painful to bite into. The texture is phenomenal and there's just the right amount of sweetness. They're also just small enough to let you choose how many you eat without pressuring you to eat a lot within one bite. A little bit of personal bias here due to the fact that they don't contain milk which I'm grateful for because I'm lactose intolerant. What I'm not grateful for is that they're almost entirely sugar, which I am not grateful for as a sugar intolerant. However, the fact that they're small enough for me to control how much I eat mostly negates lost points from that. 10/10 (I've never had a problem with candy corn before and I'm almost convinced people hate it for the bit.)

Licorice: If you have an entire genre of licorice known for being... controversial in taste, I don't think that's a good sign for your entire overall brand. Either way, I suppose I should've taken the "black licorice bad" take as foreshadowing because I actually hate these elongated, over-sweetened mockeries of fusillini. Their taste is horrid, they're way too chewy for my liking, and they're far too long. Just one of these is enough to make me sick for an hour or two. The only redeeming part about them is their texture, which is almost okay enough to justify the taste. 4/10. It would've been a two but I remembered my dad likes these and so I'll give it pity points.

Peanut butter + chocolate: I will never stop eating these, no matter how ill they make me. Like, seriously, its a problem; I get near bed-ridden sick from the sugar and lactose intolerance hitting me at the same time at full force, but I— for some reason— deem it worth it. They're like a match made in heaven for candies. The nuttiness and savor of the peanut butter mixed with the sweetness of chocolate is a gift from the gods I'd reckon. An apology for making humans sentient. The worst practical joke ever played on me by the universe. I feel so bad for people who cannot have these; these rank high if not the highest on my list of candy types. Absolutely heaven. 9/10 (the fact that they melt so easily is a bummer. I hate having stuff left behind on my hands.)

Mint-chocolate: This one is incredibly decisive for me. On one hand: rarely have I ever had a mint-chocolate candy taste good for me. On the other hand: mint chocolate ice cream exists and is my favorite flavor. The candies are just... way too minty and overshadow the chocolate aspect far too much for any enjoyment; if I wanted this much minty I would've gone and drank a cup of mouthwash. The textures of the mint and chocolate don't go together well at all for me; it causes me to writhe whenever I am reminded of it. However, the ice cream variant (and the girl scout cookies. God those are so good) make up for the horrors of the candies. So, I am relatively indifferent here. It entirely depends on the form of the mint and chocolate you're eating. 6/10 (ice cream and girls scouts hard carried this one.)

Sour candies: I don't hate them, but I don't love them. Occasionally I'm in the mood for sour candy or I'm not, the latter being more common. However, I will give sour candy credit, they're very good at the job they do, especially the chewy variants. They have a strong taste of sour that makes your eyes water. They're chewy enough to where you've probably sucked all of the sour out once you've finished chewing. They're small enough to give you a strong hit of sour, but not too much to overwhelm you. They serve a specific purpose in the candy world and I can respect them for that, even if I only rarely enjoy them. (8/10. Only because if you eat way too many you can make your mouth bleed. Not a problem most people will encounter, but I'm docking points nonetheless.)

candy discourse, reblog w/ your opinions on

• candy corn • licorice • peanut butter + chocolate • mint + chocolate • sour candies

[murasaki-sama]

I am so jealous of people who like black coffee as is, with no sugar or cream or anything. Or even black coffee with a tiny bit of sugar or cream.

I mean think about it. This drink comes in unlimited free refills, is available at most restaurants, is socially acceptable to order all year round and at most times of the day or night.

I am warm drink enjoyer (all warm drinks) and none of the others get a teeny tiny bit of that treatment.

Hot chocolate? expensive, one cup per purchase, comes over sugared with whip cream, made with water mostly (never with milk), only socially acceptable to order during the fall and winter.

Tea? here in america, even at Tea Shops or whatever, the best you can get is hot leave juice, and the worst you can get is a disgrace. went to a Chinese restaurant yesterday and what I got when I ordered green tea and my sister ordered Jasmine was just... bad.

Most people don't even know what Wassail is, so good like finding that and ordering it.

Apple cider or any other fruit cider probably isn't available either, not even in the fall. the best you might get is apple juice, in a small class, one cup per purchase and oddly expensive per cup too.

And if one does like coffee, but a bit doctored up with sugar and cream, all you get are tiny sugar bags and small cream cups, and it takes like six of one and half a dozen of the other to fix a single cup, so even with unlimited refills you spend half of you meal time opening containers and mixing them in your coffee. and then there is the caffeine thing, which many other warm drinks do not have.

so yeah, i really envy people who just order coffee, black, and drink it as is. lucky bastards.

[meditating-dog-lover]

Health update

Today was a productive day.

I booked an appointment for a mineral scan, requested my dental xrays and gum charting copies, and am in the process of scheduling an appointment for a psychiatric evaluation. I can't wait to have that booked because I know it will help me.

I broke my fast at 9:30 with a coffee, banana, some dark chocolate and walnuts.

They had Panera catering at work today. So lots of sandwiches, salad, bread cookies, and juice. I had some Caesar salad with some dressing and bread. I am pretty hungry today so I'm happy they brought that. And even though I am trying to eat "anti-inflammatory" some bread and Caesar dressing is not going to do anything, especially when the bulk of my diet is anti-inflammatory. But I did not feel like a sandwich (I didn't like any of the options they had and I'm tired of white bread) or a cookie. I've been craving less sweet stuff. So I'm also tired of baked goods and milk chocolates.

I do like to treat myself here and there, but want to do it where I don't feel not well or like I ate too much junk and sweets after that. I had one of those small milk caramel blocks from Whole Foods the other day and it was too sweet. Same with the brownies my mom and I had last week. It just doesn't hit the same. It's too "sugary".

I've also been eating less white bread. I had some today and I liked it, but I don't want to have way too much. But at the end of the day, I'll let myself have some junk here and there, as long as the bulk of my diet is healthy and diverse and anti-inflammatory.

I'm sick and tired of taking supplements. The only real need I think supplements have are to fill nutrient gaps. Most of us do not get enough D3/K2 or omega-3 and magnesium from diet alone. So I do supplement with these. However, for more gut health-focused supplements, I really do think diet is the better solution. For probiotics - Greek yogurt (the yogurt I have has the bacteria species names written on the container, and they're similar to the ones in probiotic supplements). For gut lining and anti-microbial effects - aloe juice. And for digestion - ginger (I am doing more research on this and I'm not a huge fan of ginger. Tropical fruit are also a good source of enzymes, but I also don't like those and prefer berries).

Even for hormone balance, correctly cycling my food and fasting, as well as managing my stress, will work better than any supplement. As I said I am tempted to return those 2 hormone balancing supplements I purchased).

I am drinking aloe juice because I would rather have the actual natural aloe vera food source rather than a gut support powder that tastes like old black licorice or fake orange (these contain aloe combined with other gut support ingredients). But I am on the lookout for a food/drink that is a good source of natural enzymes that support digestion.

I'm doing blood work and an h pylori breath test in a few days. I hope my blood sugar and thyroid hormones are within good range. I've been taking a multivitamin that contains plenty of absorbable iodine and chromium. Although I don't think gut issues is the source of my skin inflammation, I hope the h pylori has been killed off because that does cause a lot of issues, including inflammation, stomach cancer, and reducing stomach acid levels which can negatively impact digestion. I know something like lemon juice and apple cider vinegar help with that, but I'm not a fan of either and they're bad for teeth.

I'm looking forward to my blood work, h pylori breath test, my mineral scan and psychiatric evaluation. I hope my breath test is negative and my mineral scan looks good, because this will show that I'm finally able to properly digest and absorb nutrients.

My skin is much better. My hands are still a bit inflamed, so I applied a hint of steroid cream to them last night and this morning. I applied some petroleum jelly too. But they're looking better.

I'm trying to add in more healthy foods to my diet. I'm a picky eater. I added broccoli as a calciferous vegetable source. I'm looking into ginger. I switched to an anti-inflammatory spicy may condiment that has avocado oil rather than canola oil. Next I'm looking into an anti-inflammatory crunchy snack I can have when I go to therapy (those are long days and I get hungry). It doesn't have to be perfectly anti-inflammatory and healthy since it's not something I have everyday. But I can look around.

[inorganicpixie]

I don’t know if I will like what the scale says tomorrow morning. But I feel like I did pretty good today without tracking. Just choosing “healthy options” might not be deficit I could be in for faster progress but I’m still happy with not binging.

Breakfast was 2 cups of coffee and unsweetened almond milk.

For lunch had some left over sweet potato chocolate pudding a co worker gave me two days ago (probably about 1/3 of a cup size), one carrot and some cucumber slices with a 0% fat plain greek yogurt-serving size with serving size of everything bagel hummus, and half of a small container of beet and feta salad from work.

For snack I had the rest of the beet salad, collagen supplement with unsweetened almond milk and an orange.

For dinner I had a salad with blue cheese, a teaspoon each of flax, hemp hearts and chia seeds, two teaspoons of sunflower seeds and a hummus and vinegar dressing I made and a few cubes of watermelon.

Then after for dessert my family and I went and got smoothies and I got a Green smoothie with green apple, orange juice (I asked for half the juice half water), pineapple, spinach, kale, banana and mango.

Oh and I had half of a packet of a hazelnut almond butter thing.

For lunch my guess is going to be I had about 500, snack was probably about 250, dinner probably 600, hazelnut almond butter bite was 100, then smoothie I’m going to guess around 400(?).

So I’m going to roughly estimate my intake today around 1,850.

For exercise I jogged a mile and then worked for 8hrs and then walked home and then went on another short walk with our smoothies and I’m about to do a 20 min yoga video.

I didn’t track cals on my phone app but mfp says I burned about 130 cal today.

So maybe total was around 1,750 rounded up.

Ik this isn’t going to make fast progress. But I am still hoping for like idk, even just a smidge closer to 144 tomorrow morning.

[202310271]

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I find how I get grumpy, not having anything like "sweets" or dessert, soda pop, treats, candy, "fat..." If I have like none my body doesn't work as well. I even read you need food that tastes good to keep your ability to digest and have an appetite. I was like 15 when I read that, maybe, if not 17 or almost 17 maybe.

I also found I can't live on just heavy "sweets" and base rudimentary crude food. Like, I got chicken, turkey, ham, pork chops, and beef, but I didn't do much. The only special thing I did was toast my bread in the oven with butter and slice my cheese myself, both cheap and fresh. The meat is in the freezer except for some already cut slices of ham, think I ran outta that. Just have 1 1/2 chickens, a turkey, a tray of pork chops, and a tray of cut beef, the cheapest. It's all in my freezer, with my 7 1/2 bell peppers, maybe 7 tomatos, and maybe 3 1/2 heads of broccoli. All I did was fry in the oven or deep fry and put salt and pepper on the stuff in the oven, which is broccoli and fries I made from potatos. So! I ordered Chinese for like $15 if you count the DoorDash fee. I also woke up very sore.

I also get my overnight oats jars in the mail tomorrow, 16 oz or like 4-5 inches. Have my 3+ large mostly containers of oats, 2 gallons of milk for now and more after of course, coco powder a large container of Hershey's no sugar I read?, large container of honey store brand, and a more large container of vanilla extract replacement store brand. I just mix up the ingredients other than oats and then mix it with milk and I think fill the cup halfway or maybe more and put it in overnight or like 6 hours. I saved like 10 recipes of overnight oats on Pinterest. If I got 3 today it'd be $89, though. I can pick up something cheaper walking to my grocery store close to home, used Instacart+ though as mostly now.

I like carbonated sweet drinks, too, ATM. Slushes might work, get another ice tray or whatever and blend it with the rest of the liquid. Diet drinks are probably worse in excess. I like candy but don't eat it much. A lotta them are real sour now. Lemon Heads are "hard to come by," but I dunno if you suck on them the whole time. A lotta times, I want chocolate milk, but it's expensive when you pass by at the store. I wonder how the chocolate overnight oats will satisfy. 6 cheap gars. I got 2 for $4 and then 4 for like $12. $2 and $3 each I see. Interesting, but oh well. I don't have much money.

Tomorrow "Pork Lo Mein" and an Egg Roll for $12-$13 + DashPass with small fee/s. I dunno what to make, but if I made Chinese I'd have like the same thing every day or buy more ingredients for more. I need more soda pop to wash down if I get that sauce covered chicken again. I am almost finishing this whole 2 Liter, today, and had a can earlier, Orange, which is what I usually, almost always, yet. I'm feeling better and may walk to a store. I know I also need hand lotion. I'm on my last little tube. I have a list of things, though, don't have to buy it all at Amazon since I can leave the home if I need to, now, reliably enough.

[emmetrain]

She holds out a box containing white and milk chocolates, "Happy Luvdisc Day Mr. Emmet!"

"Miss Celeste!!! Hi!!" Ah! Emmet did not expect a gift--he was pleasantly surprised! "This is for me? The colors too--I am verrry grateful!! That reminds me..."

Emmet offers a box of Pecha-Berry-flavored macaroons, and a small gift box he carefully wrapped with fun, shiny Lotus Blue paper, with a plush key-chain of a Minccino.

"Happy Luvdisc Day, Miss Celeste! Hope the day will help you reach the stop called Love, Trust and Joy!!"

[jewreallythinkthat]

Ok so 2 things

1. I hope I haven't made anyone think I'm bilingual. I am learning Hebrew, and as a cook, food stuffs are some of the first things I learnt and I was super excited to be able to reply to a note in Hebrew with something I actually knew! (I have had to Google translate much of the other notes lol because only half the words are things I have covered

2. Poppyseed propaganda time:

A. Poppy seeds in hamantaschen should be in the form of a thick poppyseed custard (made from milk, honey, egg and ground poppy seeds) where the starches from the seeds have thickened the custard. They should never just be dry poppyseeds in the hamantaschen, if that's what you're used to, please try and find a good recipe for a mohn filling - I'm happy to send my personal one if needed.

B. Poppy seeds are a huge byproduct of the licit morphine industry so if you want painkillers for the hospital, you'll naturally get mass poppy seed production so basically you can say that your food is sustainable or something, you make the argument work

C. Poppy seeds actually contain a small amount of opioids - enough that if you have a bunch of poppy seeds hamantaschen, you would fail a drug test (so do not have them before doing a major sporting event lol). They opioids won't affect you as there isn't enough for that, but there is still a measurable amount. It's cool. This is cool.

D. Because of the multiple crystal formations of cocoa butter, straight up chocolate in your hamantaschen gets a weird texture that some of us just can't be dealing with once it cools after being baked. Also, milk chocolate's high sugar content means its likely to burn if you're not careful with the baking.

E. I used to hate poppy seeds when I was young but as an adult, they are my favourite by far. This isn't a "oh you'll grow up" situation, but literally palates change as you age so if you're young, just give it a few years and try again with this one because they're so so good.

I love you Jews in my phone ♥️

I am gently kissing you all on the foreheads and telling you it will be ok; I am feeding you challah and chicken soup, and hamantaschen

[actual-corpse]

Bruh... I live in America and I'm starting to refuse that it really exists and is not, in fact, a shitty dystopian YA novel.

[vhenadahls]

screw your courage to the sticking-place

Phryne is determined to make Jack’s birthday special, no matter how many times she has to try to make a cake. The process leads to a revelation and a declaration.

E, 6500 words.

AO3 link in first reblog!

The kitchen is a lot more daunting when she’s supposed to do something. The table looks a mile wide, and the baking implements strewn across it more akin to torture devices. Phryne picks up a whisk, rotating it slowly in one hand as she stares.

“Miss, you don’t have to do this.” Mr. Butler’s voice is kind and even, as always, without a hint of judgment. “The Inspector will be pleased that you’re hosting a small party for him, and with your other gifts. It won’t matter if you made the cake yourself.”

“No.” Phryne shakes her head. “Well, you’re probably not wrong. But I said I’d do this, and I’m going to do it.” She sets down the whisk and picks up the apron he’s draped over a chair for her. The knot at the back poses a challenge for just a moment, but she gets it tied and picks up her whisk again.

“So, Mr. Butler! I am yours to command.” Posing dramatically with a baking whisk might be silly, but she does it anyway, holding it like a sceptre of rank.

He laughs lightly, gesturing with one hand to the ingredients and utensils organized neatly across the table. “I thought we’d try a chocolate cake recipe I’ve made many times. I’ve pulled out most of the ingredients already, except what’s still in the refrigerator. We'll start by reading the recipe, then going over the ingredients, and then I'll walk you through it." He taps the open page of the cookbook on the edge of the table.

The left-side page starts with maple filling. She skips that - they’re making chocolate cake - and skims the next section. Directions for making chocolate cake. Perfect.

Melt chocolate in double boiler. Melting, that makes sense, even if she isn’t sure what a double boiler might be. Measure and sift flour as many times as you would for white and yellow cake.

What?

“Um, Mr. Butler.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Turning back from the refrigerator, he gestures at the book again. “It’s all right. You’ve done much more complicated things than baking this cake. No need to worry.”

Once his head’s in the refrigerator again, she turns back to the book, running a finger under each line. They’re all English, all words she knows, but these are not combinations of words she’s ever put together. A scant cup of butter - cut into particles? Creamed butter? Salt, in a cake? At least “level teaspoon” makes some sense, though she isn’t sure whether the measure is “a spoon used for tea” or something else entirely.

Mr. Butler turns away from the refrigerator again, setting three eggs on the table. Towards the middle, she notices, where hopefully she won’t knock them onto the floor. “Now, see here,” he points to the ingredients list in the cookbook, “it says ‘eggs beaten separately.’”

“I assume that means separating the whites and yolks.” Phryne reaches out to pick up one of the eggs, then thinks better of it when Mr. Butler’s hand hovers nearby. “Though I have no idea how one would do such a thing.”

“I’ll show you. And the rest of the ingredients should make plenty of sense - flour, sugar, butter, salt. You know those.”

“Actually,” she picks up the container of salt from the forest of ingredients, “I don’t understand why anyone would put salt in a cake. Don’t we want it to be sweet?”

“Of course.” Mr. Butler points at the cookbook again, at the listing for the salt. “Salt enhances the flavour of whatever you’re baking, even sweet things. It’s only a teaspoon in this recipe, because you don’t need very much in a cake like this. But it will make it a lot better than if we hadn’t used it.”

Phryne sets the salt back on the table. “I knew I’d be learning today, but I had no idea how much.”

With a soft smile, Mr. Butler hands her the jar of flour. “So! The main ingredients for your cake are, of course, the chocolate, the flour, milk, eggs, and butter. The butter’s still in the refrigerator, since we want it to stay as cold as possible. We also have the salt, as you noted, some vanilla to mix with the chocolate, and baking powder, which will help the cake rise when it bakes so it’s not flat as rubber.”

“This all sounds so simple when you put it that way, Mr. Butler.” Popping the clasp on the flour jar, Phryne sets it back on the table and reaches for a stack of measuring cups. “How much do I need?”

He reads out the quantities to her and shows her how to sift the flour and baking powder together, then steps over to the stove to melt the chocolate. The sifting itself is simple, but trying not to go too fast and puff flour all over the kitchen is somewhat harder, what with how boringly repetitive the task is. While sifting with one hand, Phryne assembles the rest of her ingredients with her other hand, lining up the salt, sugar, the jar of milk, the eggs.

Once she’s sifted the flour four times, Mr. Butler walks her through separating the eggs and beating the yolks lightly with the whisk she’d grabbed earlier. Then it’s time for the electric mixer he’s so proud of, which he won’t let her use. He effortlessly creams (why is it called creaming, she wonders to herself) the butter while still keeping an eye on the chocolate. She mixes sugar into the egg yolks, then adds the butter while Mr. Butler beats the egg whites in another bowl.

Phryne keeps stirring while Mr. Butler pours ingredients in from alternating bowls: the flour mixture, then the egg whites, then flour again. When both bowls are empty, he pours the chocolate in. It all comes together in a lovely batter, smooth and dark and creamy like she thinks you’d expect from something called chocolate cream cake. Once the chocolate is fully mixed in, Mr. Butler runs a finger over the edge of the bowl and pops it into his mouth with a silly wink that makes her laugh. But as soon as he tastes the batter, his nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Mr. Butler?”

Taking a glass from the cupboard, he pours some of the leftover milk and takes a sip. “I think you may have used salt instead of sugar, Miss Fisher. Unfortunately we’ll have to bin that one and try again.”

Trying not to groan aloud, Phryne nods. “I suppose I can’t expect to be good at baking on the first try.” She tries not to visibly pout.

While he dumps out the foul batter and washes out the bowls, she goes back over the recipe and the ingredients, purposefully putting the sugar and the salt on opposite ends of the table. She’s not going to make that mistake again.

—--

The doorbell echoes inside, as it always does. Jack’s stood on this stoop more times than he can count. Especially lately.

It’s unusual that he has to wait long for someone to answer the door. Usually Mr. Butler, but sometimes Dot (or Jane, when she’s home), or sometimes even Miss Fisher herself. But today he’s still waiting, though he knows at this time more than one person should be in the house.

Nerves building in his chest, he walks back to the footpath and around to the alleyway. The kitchen door is closed and the curtains are drawn, so he knocks, solid and loud (“that policeman’s knock,” Rosie called it once - ever since she said it, he’s tried to temper it, but it comes out when he’s nervous).

The door opens almost immediately, Mr. Butler standing on the other side. “Inspector! I apologize if you rang the bell and I didn’t notice, I -”

“Jack!” Miss Fisher barrels into view from behind Mr. Butler, nudging him out of the way and stepping into the alleyway. She closes the door behind her, and when she turns back Jack notices a streak of chocolate on her cheek and - he does a double take - a batter-covered whisk in her hand. And a flour-streaked apron wrapped around her. “I didn’t know you were coming. We were just -”

“Baking?” He rests two fingers on her cheek just under the chocolate, a small smile on his face. It’s incongruous, thinking of her doing something as domestic as baking, but the mental image of her trying is more than endearing.

“Oh no,” she starts, and even if it weren’t obvious he’d know she was lying. Her voice still pitches higher when she tries to lie to him, and he knows she knows (and that she knows he knows), so he lets her keep going. “There’s just something strange going on with…the cooker! Mr. Butler needed a hand, and I’m the only one home. We’re almost finished, so I’ll have Mr. Butler open the front door for you and you can wait in the parlour if you’d like?”

“If something’s gone wrong, I could help Mr. Butler figure it out?” Jack plays along with the lie. “Not that you haven’t been a great help, I’m sure. But three heads might make it go faster.”

Miss Fisher drops her chin and tilts her head, looking up at him from under her excessive eyelashes. An expression he’s seen many times, one that’s almost guaranteed to get her whatever she’s asking for. He’s still always glad to see it.

Realizing she’s talking and he’s missed something, he tries to piece together the conversation. When he catches up, she’s saying, “-just take a seat in the parlour and I’ll be with you shortly.” Without another word she leans up on her toes and kisses him, then gives a cheeky smile and slips back through the kitchen door, so quickly he doesn’t get a look inside.

While he’s still blinking in confusion, Mr. Butler steps out, again closing the door behind him. “Miss Fisher asked me to walk you back to the front and let you inside. I apologize for the inconvenience, Inspector.”

Jack follows him, trying to look through the blue gingham curtains as he walks past the window. He can see a sliver of the kitchen beyond, but not enough of it to make out more than the fact that Phryne’s baking something. Something that includes chocolate.

Once ensconced in the parlour, he strains to hear whatever’s going on in the kitchen without walking into the dining room where he’ll be visible. But all he can hear is the low murmur of familiar voices and the lilt of familiar laughter.

That’s enough, though. He’ll find out soon enough whatever it is she’s working on. The birthday party she’s throwing for him is tomorrow, after all. No amount of trying had been able to convince her that a man his age didn’t need a birthday party, and at this point he’s somewhat looking forward to it. Or, at least, to time with her around people they don’t have to hide around.

—--

This cake comes out flat as a board.

Mr. Butler had tasted the batter, declared it good. Phryne had felt so proud, conquering this skill that’s always been the purview of others. “Apparently I can find different mistakes,” she mumbles under her breath, and the weight of Mr. Butler’s hand drops onto her shoulder.

“Everyone who’s baked has made these kinds of mistakes. You’re not the only one, not at all. This looks like you left out the baking powder - might have put in an extra measure of salt or sugar instead.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but reminders of the things she can’t do rarely are. She grits her teeth, pulling the cookbook towards her. “Hopefully the third try’s the charm.”

He shakes his head. “We can’t today, Miss, there isn’t enough milk left. But we can bake another tomorrow morning, before the party. We’ll get it right.”

She sighs. “Perhaps.” Glancing over the kitchen, she winces - it looks like a cyclone’s been through. “I can help you clean up.”

“No, no, don’t worry.” He’s already organizing the ingredients left on the table. “You go talk to the Inspector.”

Not needing to be told twice, Phryne fumbles behind her for the apron strings, pulling it off over her head when the knot’s undone and escaping the kitchen. She detours up to her room, wiping the chocolate and flour and other residue off her skin and reapplying her makeup. When she steps into the parlour and Jack looks up and pats the sofa next to him, appreciation on his face, all her frustration melts away. That’s why she’s trying her hand at baking - to elicit as many of those wonderful smiles as she can. The smiles - and the man - she’s come to love.

Love. The nonchalance of the thought stops her in her tracks. It’s not the first time she’s thought it. He’s said it, but infrequently (he knows her so well, it’s probably to avoid scaring her away). And she’s come close. But it’s still a step that scares her, a step she wasn’t confident she’d ever be ready to take again. Not after Paris, after René. After her parents.

“Miss Fisher?” His low voice threads its way into her thoughts, unspooling the tension that had begun to grow again, as he always does. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She drops onto the sofa next to him, pouring whisky into two glasses from the decanter on the table. Pulling her legs up under her, she offers him one of the glasses.

He takes it but doesn’t immediately drink, rolling his wrist and turning the glass with it. “Is everything all right with the cooker?” His voice is light, betraying nothing, but when he looks up from the glass his eyes are twinkling with unvoiced laughter.

“The cooker?” Why on earth is he asking about the cooker? She’s been - ah. The lie she told to explain why she was working in the kitchen and wouldn’t let him in. Which he clearly knows is a lie, and is waiting to see how long she’ll keep it up.

Two can play at that game.

“Oh, yes, the cooker!” She takes a sip of whisky, keeping her eyes on his, and he doesn’t break the stare. “It seems to be working well enough now. Mr. Butler clearly knows what he’s doing, he just needed an extra pair of hands. I don’t really understand any of what I did; you’d have to ask him.”

“I may just do that,” Jack says, and Phryne has to suppress a laugh. Chuckling himself, he drapes his left arm across the back of the sofa and she leans into his side. “Will you at least tell me tomorrow?”

“What’s there to tell?” she asks, affecting innocence as best she can, and his chuckles escalate into full laughter. Shifting slightly, she leans up to press her lips to his, reveling in the abrupt change from laughter to that delicious moan deep in his throat.

“Phryne,” he breathes, breaking the kiss, voice hoarse and eyes dark. Smirking, she kisses him again, tracing her tongue over his bottom lip.

—--

Jack doesn’t stay the night. He wants to, and everyone who will be at the party already knows that he spends much of his time at Wardlow, but it seems like a better idea to come from home. The party’s scheduled to start at four, so he leaves home with enough time to arrive by half three - but, knowing who’s coming, he’s not sure half the guests will show up anywhere close to on time.

He doesn’t even have to ring the bell this time. Miss Fisher flings the door open as soon as he steps up onto the stoop, as if she’d been watching from the parlour window. “Jack!” she cries, and he couldn’t help his smile even if he cared to. She pulls him inside, and as soon as the door’s closed behind him he leans down to kiss her. Her smile is evident in the kiss, too, and he wraps one arm around her waist.

“Happy birthday,” she murmurs against his lips, and it sends a shiver down his spine that he’d love to give in to. Stepping back away from him, she gives him a filthy look that promises more, and his mind goes completely blank.

“Inspector!” Another familiar voice, from behind Miss Fisher, breaks into his thoughts and starts them up again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Good to see you. And, um, happy birthday.”

He leans to the side to find Mrs. Collins - it’s taken a surprising amount of time to get used to calling her that - standing in the doorway to the dining room, holding a tray of glasses clearly intended for the parlour. Jack blinks at her for a moment, feeling like an owl in daylight, until he gets his bearings back under him.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Collins. Thank you. I hope it hasn’t been too much trouble to get everything set up for the party.” It still feels odd, to know they’re setting up a party for his benefit.

“Not at all!” She’s still just as sweet as she’s always been, and he’s glad again that Miss Fisher came home and put her household back to rights. Not just for himself. “It’s always a pleasure, Inspector.”

When she steps into the parlour with her tray, Jack realizes that Miss Fisher’s no longer standing on his other side. He casts around for a moment before finding her, emerging from the door on the far end of the dining room. She’s carrying another tray herself: a platter full of sandwiches, which she places gently in the middle of the low table in the middle of the parlour. Pride of place - odd, for sandwiches. But at a second glance, he realizes the sandwiches are all a little cockeyed, the arrangement on the plate a little less than perfectly symmetrical, one or two already looking slightly soggy from the mustard pickle he can see peeking out of a few. It hits him like a ton of bricks.

“Phryne,” he starts, low and under his breath, and her head snaps towards him a little too quickly - it’s still not often he uses her first name when they’re not fully alone. “Did you make these yourself? For me?” 

Even through her makeup, he can see the faint tinge of a blush redden her cheeks. “I did. Ham, cheese, and mustard pickle.” 

“A particular favorite.” When she nods, he reaches out and grabs one of her hands, pulling it towards him. He presses a kiss to the back of it - a real kiss, not the vague gesture of greeting for someone of her station - and squeezes it in his own. “Thank you, Phryne.” It’s not the first time she’s gone out of her way to make sure he has an enjoyable experience, but to do so with her own two hands - it’s a lot. In a good way.

That cheeky grin will be the death of him. All traces of blushing gone, she dips her head. “Of course, Inspector.” She sweeps back out of the parlour, sashaying in a way definitely intended to catch his attention - not that she’d ever lost it - and he can barely hold in a laugh. Who would have thought, in London, that they would end up here. Together. At his birthday party, in her house. With her making his favorite sandwiches for him.

The doorbell rings and there’s a commotion in the kitchen at the same time. When neither Mr. Butler nor Mrs. Collins appears to open the front door, Jack stands and warily steps towards the door. Hopefully it’s one of the party guests, who will expect him in the house, and not…whoever else might be attempting to meet with Miss Fisher on a random Saturday in June.

The bell rings again as he reaches the door, and he decides it’s almost certainly one of the party guests. Pulling open the door, he finds Dr. MacMillan on the other side, hand raising to knock as well.

“Impatient, are we?” Jack asks, and she glares at him from under the brim of her hat.

“You’d know,” she quips, teasing, with a pointed glance up the stairs to where Phryne’s bedroom lies. She steps past him with a laugh while he tries to control the heat in his cheeks. Hanging her hat on the rack, she breezes through the dining room toward the kitchen, perfectly at home.

He can hear Miss Fisher’s delighted “Mac!” as he returns to his seat in the parlour.

Guests continue to trickle in, once the others have all joined him in the parlour. Most of them are friends and acquaintances he’s met through Miss Fisher - Dr. MacMillan, for one, and the red-ragger cabbies, and even Mrs. Stanley makes a brief appearance. But there’s Collins, of course, and a few men he knows from the footy stop by, and even one or two others he knows from the force, men he knows will be discreet about where they saw him.

It’s much lower-key than most of Miss Fisher’s parties that he’s attended or seen, and he’s grateful. Mr. Butler keeps him supplied with champagne, his favorite sandwiches, and trips to the kitchen when he needs to step away. Mrs. Collins keeps some of his favorite records playing over the gramophone. For the birthday party of a man his age, it’s pretty much all he could ask for.

Mrs. Collins finally kicks Cec and Bert - drunk in the case of the former, completely pissed for the latter - out around nine. She and Mr. Butler immediately set about cleaning up, but Miss Fisher waves them off with a wave of a hand. “No, no, don’t worry - it’ll keep ‘til tomorrow. Today was for celebrating, tonight shouldn’t have to be for cleaning.”

“Are you sure, Miss?” Mrs. Collins asks, worrying at the sleeves of her dress. “It’s not that late; we should at least get started.”

“Not tonight.” Miss Fisher’s voice is firm. “There’s just one last thing I need from you two.” She stands and herds them both with her towards the kitchen, leaving Jack in the parlour with Collins. 

It's still somewhat awkward to spend time with him outside of a case. But they make do, the discussion turning towards footy (as it frequently does) and this season’s Abbotsford-West Melbourne game that many of the party guests will be attending, as always. Just as Collins starts to get a little too heated about this year’s players, Miss Fisher returns with Mrs. Collins and Mr. Butler in tow and an unreadable smile on her face.

In a flurry the Collinses are heading out through the kitchen for the guest house behind Wardlow that they’ve made their own, Mr. Butler bids them goodnight and disappears into his own quarters, and Jack’s left standing at the foot of the stairs with Miss Fisher.

“Come up with me?” she asks, and he detects something like anxiety in her voice. But it’s far from the first time he’s been up to her boudoir, and he’d assumed this was the plan for the night anyway, so even as he nods he squeezes her hand in a question.

“You all right?” he asks aloud also, just in case.

“Perfectly,” she answers, squeezing his hand back, but she doesn’t turn around before climbing the stairs. Uncertain, he follows, deciding to let her explain whenever she’s ready.

She pushes open the door with something akin to ceremony, and Jack takes in the room. Bed, dressing screen, vanity, all as normal - and a small table set in front of the chaise, with what looks like a small cake atop it.

“You made this?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. She doesn’t answer, just tilts her head, her hair swinging forward against her cheeks. He pulls her towards him for another kiss. “This is what you were baking yesterday?”

Her eyes are wide and perfunctorily innocent as she walks backwards towards the chaise, pulling him after her. “There was no baking yesterday, just a fussy cooker. Whatever made you ask that?” The words and tone are teasing, but there’s a hint of something underneath that he can’t place. She takes a seat, looking up at him expectantly.

He joins her on the chaise, and she immediately hands him one of the forks that had been resting next to the cake. “Happy birthday, Jack.” Leaning back, she slips one arm behind him, caressing his shoulder as she goes.

The cake’s quite small, and somewhat lopsided if he’s honest. It’s hard to say whether he’d wonder if she’d made it, if he didn’t already know, because the idea of her baking is still so incongruous. But the frosting is inviting, and he takes a bite.

It’s delicious. The frosting is as smooth and creamy as it looked from the outside, and the cake itself is moist and light. Chocolate may not have been what he’d have gone for if he’d chosen, but he’s not sure why. Swallowing, he brandishes the fork.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Miss Fisher. A party, sandwiches, and this birthday cake?” He leans in to try and kiss her again, maybe forget about the cake despite how delicious it is, but she’s not looking at him. He follows her gaze and realizes that she’s still looking, inexplicably, at the cake.

“Try another bite,” she says, and this time he can place at least some of what’s in her voice - nerves. And not discomfort or worry, exactly, but something akin to those.

Doing as she says, he reaches out with the fork again. But this time, instead of passing through the fluffy body of the cake, the fork catches on something. Something hard but narrow and long, by the feel of it. Confused, he excavates it from the cake, trying to knock off whatever’s been baked onto it as he pulls it out.

It’s a key. A house key. A familiar house key that he’s seen in even more familiar hands.

A key to Wardlow.

“Phryne,” he starts, and can’t continue around the lump in his throat. He rubs at it with one of the napkins laying on the table, trying to collect his thoughts and his voice. The cake and the frosting slough off, leaving a key just as elegant as the rest of the house. His eyes trace the scrollwork at the top, the post, the teeth. The bronze elegance of it all.

When he lifts his gaze from the key to Miss Fisher, her face is open, vulnerable, in a way he hasn’t often seen. Her eyes are so very blue. “Phryne,” he tries again, and can’t find any words to continue. Instead he shifts toward her on the chaise until he can pull her in for another kiss, trying to put all his thoughts and feelings into it. And love. Always, always love.

She hums against his lips - not erotically, not exactly, but in contentment, an understanding. When they break this kiss, she twines their fingers together and rests her nose against his cheek.

Jack reaches between and across them with his other hand, grabbing for the key. “Phryne,” he says a third time, “you don’t have to do this.” He knows what her independence and freedom mean to her. It may not be a wedding ring, but it’s an invitation even further into her life. “Are you sure?”

“I am.” She turns his head to kiss him again - gently, invitingly, a request and a promise. Her eyes flutter closed, and she takes a deep breath before opening them again. “I love you, Jack.”

She says it like it’s simple, like it’s known, and it is on some level - but his heart nearly stops. He’s said it, wanted to say it more, but held back for fear of scaring her away. Even after the desert, even after everything they’ve been through, he still worries.

Lifting a hand, slowly and carefully, he rests it on her cheek. When she presses lightly into his palm, he’s hit with a curious mix of wistfulness and arousal. Probably exactly as she intended. His lips tip up at the corners, the smile unbidden and irresistible.

“I love you, Phryne.” He might’ve tried to put as much love as he could into his earlier kisses, but the words hold even more. Sliding the hand from her cheek around to the back of her neck, he trails his callused fingers over the soft skin there. This time he knows the hum is seductive, as she surges forward and captures his lips again, slipping her tongue between them. The sensation is familiar and new at the same time, as it always is. His cock starts to harden in anticipation.

Still at an awkward angle on the chaise, Jack tries to maneuver his other arm around her without breaking the kiss. He succeeds only in knocking their elbows together - more of a surprise than painful - and Phryne breaks the kiss with a laugh.

“Here,” she says, and with one fluid motion pushes away the table and straddles him, hands on his shoulders to keep her balance. Her dress, blue and shimmery, a perfect complement to her porcelain skin and her striking blue eyes, hikes up around her thighs.

His cock comes to attention so quickly it’s almost painful. The trousers that have been perfectly comfortable all day are suddenly inordinately tight. With an involuntary groan he grips her legs, hands resting over her garters. Also deep, fathomless blue, to match her dress. No dagger tucked away in them this time - he’s found that before, though, while making love to her. Lockpicks in her brassiere, forgotten notes tucked into her waistband. He huffs out a laugh.

“Something funny, Inspector?” she asks, head tilted in a question and a roguish smile on her face. The laugh broadens at the use of his title while she’s draped across him, hair mussed, lips devoid of gloss and paint (it’s probably all on his own lips, now), dress indecent even for her and cheeks flushed from arousal rather than rouge.

“Just thinking of the…surprises I sometimes find in your clothes, at times like this.” The soft chuckle she lets out drifts into a moan as he cants his hips upward, letting her feel the length of him against her. He’s got a few surprises in him too.

The heat of her, even through a few layers of clothing, nearly drives all rational thought from his brain. He reaches for the hem of her dress just as her hands shift on his shoulders, pulling at his braces. Glad he’s in shirtsleeves, he lets go of the dress long enough for the braces to fall to his hips before tugging at it again. Phryne lifts her arms so he can slide it off over her head, and he’s sure she wore this dress for this exact purpose. Easy to remove, no complicated buttons that she needs Mrs. Collins’s help with, and -

She’s not wearing a brassiere. He’s seen her bare plenty of times by now, and yet he’s still stunned every time. Feathering a kiss over each already-hard nipple, he revels in the way she arches toward him, the sounds she makes as he drags his teeth over her skin. He wraps his arms around her back, resting his palms on her buttocks, holding her close as he nuzzles the soft, warm skin between her breasts. She bends towards him, planting a disarmingly sweet kiss atop his head, and he grins into her chest.

Then she pushes against his shoulders, taking more of her weight back on her own knees, and starts to undo his shirt buttons. “You’re still wearing far too much clothing, Jack.” The care with which she undoes each button touches his heart. She wouldn’t care if some popped, or if the shirt itself ripped if she pulled it over his head. But she knows he cares, and she takes the time to take his shirt off properly.

But after all the buttons are undone and she slides it off, pressing a kiss to each of his hands as he raises them to let her pull the sleeves off, she reaches between them and cups him through his trousers, and suddenly he can’t care what happens to his clothes. He just needs them off, needs to feel every inch of her along every inch of him.

“Phryne,” he groans, unable to resist rocking against her hand.

“Jack,” she answers, low and hoarse, just as breathless as he is. She slides back to stand on her own feet, and he nearly whines with disapproval at the loss of her weight over him. But she reaches out a hand and pulls him to his feet, then reaches for the buttons of his trousers. Freeing his erection, she kneels, then bends forward without warning and licks a stripe along the underside of his cock, nearly sending him into the stratosphere.

In actuality he does almost topple over, tangled in his trousers and pants as he is, and Phryne falls into a fit of giggles. Jack can’t help laughing along as he drops back onto the chaise, wrestling his shoes off before divesting himself of the hopelessly rumpled last of his clothes. He can’t be embarrassed to be naked in her boudoir any longer, not after she’s made it abundantly clear just how much she enjoys looking at him. And when he looks up, she’s standing again and gazing appreciatively at him, hands on her hips and head angled down.

“Now you’re the one wearing entirely too much clothing, Miss Fisher.” He gestures at her legs, still hidden by her pants, stockings, and shoes. Her appreciative look turns sultry again, comfortable as the sole focus of his gaze. She bends to undo her shoes, trails her hands back up her legs to her garters, and Jack aches to follow them with his hands, his tongue. The stockings roll down, revealing the perfect porcelain of her legs. And finally, finally, she steps out of her knickers, kicking them to the side and exposing the patch of hair at the join of her thighs.

Before Jack can move, she’s straddling him again, kissing him deeply. The slickness of her body coats his thighs as he wraps his arms around her again, holding her close. He lets himself get lost in the kiss, in the heat, in her. It hasn’t been so long that he’s been allowed to do this, and it’s still a revelation every time.

To be allowed to openly say I love you, now, is another revelation. So when she breaks this kiss, trails more down his neck so he can’t help but arch toward her, as he pulls one hand back between them, he says it again. “I love you, Phryne,” and slips his hand between her legs.

She’s soaked. And the noises she makes, the way she grinds against his fingers, nearly push him over the edge when she’s barely even touched him. His cock throbs with want, insistent. Dragging his fingers over her clit, in slow circles the way he knows she likes, he takes one of her nipples in his mouth again. Gasping, she tangles her hands in his hair, holding his head as close to her body as she can. “Please, Jack, god,” she breathes out, her voice hitching with his ministrations.

He’s long lost the ability to voice a coherent reply. Angling his hand so his thumb can keep addressing her clit, he slides two fingers inside her. The bone-deep moan she lets out would be enough to keep him going for days all on its own, but it’s the pressure of her inner walls against his fingers that lives in his memory without end. He keeps his hand moving, a steady rhythm, as her hips rock faster and more erratically. Pushing his head back against her hands, he moves his mouth to her other breast. As he gently bites down on the peaked nipple, her whole body stiffens, her muscles tightening around his hand. A strangled stream of broken sounds and half-words falls from her lips. 

He works her through it, slowing his hand to a stop as she sags against him and pressing a kiss to her forehead, mussing her fringe even more. “God, Phryne,” he whispers against her skin, and he can feel her smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know,” she says, and he grins in delight. And then one of her hands slides down his back, making him shiver as it drags through the sweat that’s collected there, and over his hip. When she wraps her fingers around his cock, drawing them from base to tip, he can’t help but thrust against her, all the same noises that just came from her mouth coming from his now.

All sense of time deserts him, the world narrowing to the pressure of her weight on his thighs, her hand on his cock. And then she repositions herself, using that same hand to guide him inside her. He cries out, wordless, the bass counterpoint to her soprano cry of his name.

If someone asked him what he thought heaven would be like, this moment might be what Jack would think of. Hands gripping the soft flesh of Phryne’s backside, her weight on top of him, her hands on his shoulders and in his hair, as close as they can possibly be. She starts to move, working out how best to use gravity to get an angle that will work for them both, and he finds himself chanting her name.

The tension builds, at the base of his spine and the base of his cock, as he thrusts and Phryne rocks. His own voice pitches higher, then lower, as her rhythm hiccups and her breathing gets even more ragged. Jack forces his eyes open, taking in the sight of Phryne’s whole body flushed, spiraling, and it’s enough to send him over the edge. His fingers clench against her bottom, holding her close, and he screams.

Her fingernails dig into his shoulders, little pinpricks of sensation keeping him in his body as he floats on sensation, as she cries out and her whole body tenses, her inner muscles clenching around him and dragging another moan of pleasure out of his mouth.

Sagging against the chaise, boneless, Jack endeavors to hold them both upright as Phryne comes to rest against his chest. Her head fits just under his chin, even as they tilt slightly to one side. As he comes back to himself, he rubs one hand in circles across her back, relishing holding her like this.

A while - he couldn’t say how long, could’ve been five minutes or twenty - later, Phryne lifts her head back up, her eyes tired but shining. “Happy birthday, Jack,” she says again.

“Couldn’t have asked for better,” he replies, pressing her close with the hand still on her back.

Her smile could normally rival the sun, but no star could hold a candle to it now. And there’s no place he’d rather be.

[sukirichi]

hey!! congrats on 500!! could i get breakfast: ingredient 33 + sugar 7 for nanami kento? thanks!!

VIOLET

violet; a flower that symbolizes faith and affection — this was simply one of your promises to Nanami.

meal order: 🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (no warnings, other than this fic is unedited.)

notes: thank you so much for joining the event and requesting! i honestly loved this idea so much, i still remember how happy i was when i first saw it and i looked forward to writing it. i hope this was what you were looking for! i may or may not have been too deep in the feels with this one. anyways, enjoy and thank you so much! breakfast has been served!

word count: 7k+ 

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You looked up from under the golden roof, a small smile on your face. The sun shone down brightly, the calm, gentle air making the flowers in your royal garden dance side by the side, almost as if encouraged by the soft kiss of nature. In this lightning, all the colors popped out vibrantly, a wide array of splashes of life laid out before you. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Nanami, your bodyguard, followed your line of sight. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Stiff and straightforward as ever, you connoted with a hidden smile. “Perfect,” you announced, lifting your gloved hands in a beckoning gesture. “Come with me. I must inspect the garden. I heard from the staff last night that my new flowers have arrived. I shall see to it that it came in perfect condition,” Nanami nodded beside you and followed you as you trudged all the way out in broad daylight, your hair shining from the sun’s rays.

As if noticing the harsh glare of heat on your skin, Nanami was quick to open your parasol, standing at least a foot behind you. Trained to be obedient flawless in their duties, his footsteps were silent behind you, nothing but the tapping of your heels against the ground heard from the open space.

You were shielded from the heat, but you weren’t satisfied.

With a faux, distressed clicking of your tongue, you stopped in your tracks, whipping around to face your black-suit clad bodyguard. His gaze immediately fell down to your feet, back tilted in a perfect bow. You sighed, “Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Do you want to be fired?”

He froze at your words, momentarily looking up at you for a moment before turning to the ground again. “Of course not, Your Highness,” although monotonous, you could detect the slight tinge of worry in his voice, and you felt a smile crossing on your lips when you saw his brows furrow. “I extremely apologize if I’ve done something wrong. I must repent for it and assess my worth as your—”

“You’re not holding the parasol properly,” you cut him off and stepped forward, reaching to his extended arm and placing yourself right next to him until your shoulders were close enough to brush against each other.

Nanami’s jaw clenched at the lack of space, probably worrying that this was disrespectful, completely unaware you enjoyed every single moment of it, especially now that your senses were clouded with both his masculine scent and the calming aroma of flowers.

“If you keep such a distance from me and extend your arm to hold this, you’d tire your arm, and when your arm is strained, then you won’t be able to be fast enough to protect me from whatever harm comes my way. Plus, holding it in this manner leaves my nose to be burnt under the harsh sun! You wouldn’t want your princess to have sunburn, would you?”

“Definitely not, Your Highness. I would not want any harm or trouble your way.”

“So then step close to me. Like this,” you gestured to the both of you, and underneath the parasol, the hesitance swirled all over those pretty blue eyes of his. It made you want to sigh; he worried too much sometimes. “See? Your arm won’t be tired and my nose is perfectly safe under this shade.”

“But Your Highness – this distance—”

“I shall permit it for now. The situation calls for it,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, moving to where you wanted to see the new flowers. Although you couldn’t see him, the lack of warmth beside you was a telltale Nanami was too stunned to move, and you turned around, head tilted challengingly. “Or you’re still questioning the judgment of your princess?”

Nanami frowned, “I am not, Your Highness.”

“Good. Let’s see the flowers then,” You chirped with a clap.

It was the perfect day for a stroll, a rare day where you basked in not having to worry about your princess duties. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and was that a butterfly happily flying in your garden? Now that Nanami had grown comfortable after mentally reassuring himself it was fine to stick close to you, it honestly couldn’t have been better. But you being the sneaky little princess you were, you still had other plans in mind.

Three maids appeared out of nowhere, carrying a basket, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. They all strolled your way with their heads duck down, wordlessly setting out the white and red plaid patterned blanket on the soft, freshly trimmed grass.

You clapped your hands in sheer enthusiasm, “Oh, how perfect timing! It is quite tiring to stroll around this massive garden, don’t you think, Nanami? We should take a break.”

“A...picnic, Your Highness? Out here? Would you not be more comfortable inside—”

“The dining halls are boring and all the staff would be staring at me as I eat,” you plopped down rather ungraciously on the ground, taking off your heels and planting your sock clad feet on the blanket. On any other normal day, your dear Mother would’ve smacked you with her fan had she seen you act this way, but your parents were out of town, and Nanami was the last person who’d ever judge you. You had every right to be free. “It’s not a very comfortable thing, as you must know, and I’d like to enjoy my temporary freedom.”

A few beats passed as Nanami processed your words. A frown still on his handsome face, he studied the comfort of your body on the ground, already moving to open the basket with a cheerful hum. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to let you be this way.

“I will follow whatever pleases you then, Your Highness.”

You hid a smile through sucked in cheeks, pulling out the cake and acting surprised even though you’d ordered this days ago, randomly dragging a servant aside to shyly ask her to get you Nanami’s rumored favorite cake from when he went with you on a trip overseas.

“Oh, look! Fondant Cake from the Kingdom of Cherie. Fine, fine wine too, the best from His Majesty’s collection, if I heard it correctly,” you could barely contain your glee when the slightest light glimmered through his guarded eyes, hands reaching down to pat the empty space beside you. “Sit down. I need you to eat this for me.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Lest you want me to be poisoned, Nanami?” you reeled your hand back, gloved hands placed above your chest as horror filled your gaze. Nanami – bless his sweet soul – quickly bent his knees in half. Slowly, with disbelief still crossing his mind, he allowed you to spoon feed him, the chocolate sauce of the cake staining the tips of his lips. “Well? How is it? Is it safe to eat?”

Nanami moaned; pride swelling up on your chest because finally, you could do something for him. He was still too cautious though, and he concealed his delight with a slight clearing of his throat, palms flat on his muscular thighs as he nodded your way. “It is extremely delicious, Your Highness. I believe it is safe to eat.”

“Did you like it?” You already knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it straight from him.

“Yes.”

Thankful that your ears were covered by a frilly bonnet so he wouldn’t see how warmth crawled up at the tips of your ears, you beamed at him, proudly presenting more of the surprised you had in store.

“I have fresh milk cheese from the city of Lein too. Do you know that people travel from all over the world just to visit Lein and have a taste of this cheese? If it were not for our good connections to them, we would never be able to taste this,” you felt Nanami’s curious gaze fall on the delicacy on your hands, a smirk tilting your lips because cheese as quite rare where you were from. Setting it down on a plate, you cut a piece of the dairy, the fork nearly shoved in Nanami’s face. “But just to make sure, of course. We never know people’s intentions – I could be poisoned. You know very well there are plenty of people after the throne and my head.”

Nanami’s eyes widened at your implications, “Princess, please do not speak so lightly of the threats over your life.”

“Why, does it worry you?”

Nanami looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “Of course it does. It is my duty to protect and worry about you.”

“Is it really just a duty?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing the plate towards him again before Nanami could comprehend whatever went on in your head. “Pair it with the cake. Maybe there could be a chemical reaction that is life threatening. Oh, how I fear for my life, Nanami.”

Obediently, Nanami swallowed the food, eyes closed from the flavors bursting through his mouth. It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but there were hardly any when it came to Nanami to begin with, so it was enough for you, and your giggles were stifled beside him. “I believe this one is safe too.”

And so began your spontaneous picnic, with Nanami being flustered the whole time because you insisted on feeding him. He refused many times, claiming that a royal shouldn’t feed a servant, much less spend their time with him this way. Even though you didn’t mean it, you rolled your eyes just to dissipate his worries, lying through your teeth that you were full and you didn’t want to be suffocated in your corset.

You proceeded to tell him of the different ways his precious princess could die of asphyxiation. The more grotesque your storytelling began; Nanami ate everything quietly, still oblivious that you had your eyes on him the whole time.

He ate quickly, not wanting to be rude and take up too much of your time, but you insisted that you didn’t want him to choke and ordered him to slow down. As your lovely and dutiful servant, who was he to defy your orders? So he took his time, and you closed your eyes, leaning back onto his firm shoulders that grew rigid under the contact.

Soon though, Nanami relaxed, and you were about ready to fall asleep when Nanami quietly announced he’d finished his food, thanking you for the meal.

“That was a lovely picnic,” you grinned at him, even if you’d barely eaten anything.

After all, you only asked for servings for one person, lying to your staff that you wanted it for yourself. Should the higher-ups ever hear about you ordering two servants to share it with someone else when it was painfully clear to everyone in the kingdom you had no prince, it would cause chaos.

Nanami followed you as you stood up, the servants taking it upon themselves to clear up the dishes before they left you to your own devices. You walked all the way near the back of the garden, a place private only for the royal members for this was where they kept their most precious flowers. Upon seeing that the ones you’ve ordered had arrived and they were blooming beautifully beside the white roses, you ran to it, gesturing for Nanami to come closer. He leant down to inspect it, watching the way it twirled around your elegant fingers.

“This is called a Violet. It symbolizes faith and affection.”

“It is beautiful,” he commented quietly, his cool gaze sliding over to yours. “It suits you very much, Your Highness.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sudden attention, which was ironic, since wasn’t that what you always wanted? “I think it suits someone else better, if I were to be honest,” you admitted mysteriously, leaving your bodyguard confused for the nth time that day, but as always, he kept silent unless spoken to. Nanami’s eyes drifted to the flowers again, the rule of never looking in the eyes of royals burned right through his head.

Deep down in your heart, you knew it was a bit too early, but you’d always been impatient. You wouldn’t wait for the right time or the perfect opportunity – you preferred to grab moments and create them yourself.

Squeezing the hem of your dress under bundled fists, you finally gained the courage to be as upfront with him. “Nanami, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Never forget this flower. When you are feeling down, I want you to remember this lives and blooms here, that it was the Princess’ favorite, and she wants nothing more than to have this whole garden bloom with it,” You knew, you knew painfully that Nanami may never understand your garden referred to your heart and that it bloomed with your affection for him, but was it so bad to hope that one day you may show your adoration for him?

You’d prepared for this – for the possibility that maybe you never could – so you ordered these flowers, wishing silently that someday Nanami might understand the things you could never say.

“When the right time comes, I shall pluck a flower and give it to the person that receives my faith affection, and I’ll create an entire garden for them.”

Nanami absorbed your words, processing them seriously just as a servant should when it comes to their master’s words. A moment later, Nanami nodded once, head bowed in respect. “I’m sure whoever Prince is lucky enough to get your hand in marriage will be absolutely delighted, Your Highness.”

“The person I long for is not a prince,” you hinted, “He sure is charming, however, much to his ignorance.”

Nanami peeked at you under his blond lashes, the confused pout on his face worrisome yet adorable. It made you want to step forward and capture those red lips in a kiss, but you were still his Princess, and he your bodyguard. You couldn’t do it – not now, at least – for his sake. “I am not sure it would be ideal that you marry a non-royal, Your Highness.”

“Tell me, Nanami,” you began, voice turning serious that his ears perked up at the sudden firmness compared to your usually lilted self. “Do you believe love should be constrained by rules and traditions?”

His answer came in an instant, making you wonder if he would still keep to his words if he found out everything. “No, Your Highness.”

You smiled at his answer – longingly, proudly, and at the same time sadly. “And I wholeheartedly agree with you on that.” Without another word, you turned your back on him and walked back inside the large castle, his footsteps finally audible as he followed you.

Funny it was, that you, a royal-blooded woman found so much comfort in the sound of someone’s breathing and footsteps.

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You sighed and placed your book down your lap, playfully glaring at the stiff bodyguard who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since he accompanied you in your private library. “You are causing me an uncomfortable amount of stress. I do not like it.”

“What have I done wrong, Your Highness?” his voice trembled again, his back forming that straight, perfect bow that you knew took him years to practice. It probably caused him a lot of pain if his head guard slapped the other servants’ backs just to straighten their spine, and you winced at the idea of it. No one had ever even dared laid a finger on your hair; not without your permission, anyway.

“I sincerely apologize for my shortcomings. I hereby vow to do better in my duties to serve you.”

“As you should. Now come here,” you beckoned him to come closer, sighing louder when Nanami sat a foot away from you, lips pressed into a tight line. “Closer, Nanami.”

Biting his lip – and you nearly couldn’t tear your gaze away from the sight – Nanami inched closer to you, his back still perfectly straight, eyes staring straight ahead, and he was so rigid you wondered if he even breathed at all.

You shook your head with a stifled smile, soft, tireless hands bunching up to release the tight knots of his firm, broad shoulders. You weren’t surprised he felt this hard under your touch; he was a bodyguard, after all, the Princess’ personal one, at that. It made sense he kept himself trimmed, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading all over your skin anyway as you imagined just how firm he was under his clothes.

Eager to get rid of such inappropriate thoughts, you huffed through your nose, continuing to roll your fingers over his back.

“You look so stiff that I cannot focus on this novel I’m reading. Heavens know how shameful it must be that we are getting scholars to study with me this weekend and I am not even halfway done with this classic. It truly bothers me, Nanami.”

“Your Highness,” Nanami’s voice was hushed, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage. If you keep up being this rigid around me, I will lose focus because it makes me uncomfortable, and if I lose focus, I can’t perform my duty well as the princess, and if I am unable to do that, I lose respect, then my title stripped away from me. Terrifying, Nanami. Terrifying, indeed.”

Nanami was silent for a while, his gaze not leaving your focused face. Then, he turned away, his shoulders deflating as he gave in to the pleasure of your surprisingly expert hands. “I am extremely sorry.”

“As you should be,” you commented sarcastically, “Now relax. Pick up a book you like and have some of the biscuits, tea. I cannot focus with you standing around me like a statue. The stone gargoyles do that for us already,” when Nanami didn’t budge a muscle even after you’d finished massaging him, you waved a hand in the air, brow raised challengingly. “Well? Are you defying my orders?”

Nanami shot up from his seat in an instant, “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You pulled the book up higher to hide the wide grin on your lips, watching his curious and slightly dazed staring at the walls upon walls of books stacked upon one another. His wonder of the sight left you wondering just how you managed not to kiss every part of him senseless, for he was so fascinating and far more intriguing than any other universe written beyond these pages.

Nanami’s long, slender fingers finally plucked out a rather thick novel he seemed to find interesting, making his way back to you. He still sat on the other end of the couch to respect your space, and you kept silent this time, not wanting to cross the line.

He may be comfortable around you now, but you knew Nanami better than anyone, and he still held his orders and duties close to his heart that he would never break them no matter what.

It was a compelling quality of his – one you had no idea whether to admire or be irritated of.

Your twinkling eyes studied his stunning features; from his slicked back hair, to his sunken cheeks, all the way down to the sharp point of his nose and to the plumpness of his lips. He was too beautiful that you wondered how he hadn’t managed to be snagged away yet when you were reminded that Nanami was too busy in his duties of protecting you to have time for romance – and for the first time, you felt thankful for the fact you were a royal.

“That is a good one,” you piped up as you read the title of the classic novel. It was a classic about the variegated realms between dreams and reality, one you haven’t read but always wanted to. “Do you mind reading it to me someday? I love the sound of your voice.”

Nanami’s cheeks flushed a bright red at your unexpected compliment, but he nodded anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke. “S-someday, Your Highness, if your schedule allows it so.”

It sounded so much like a promise – and you looked forward eagerly to it.

Finally gaining your focus and determination to study and perform your royal duties now that Nanami had finally taken some time to relax, you did the same, leaning back onto the velvet couch and crossing your legs over the other. “Someday it is.”

“You have to be prepared for your coronation ball,” Rubine, one of the assistants of your dancing tutor made known, snapping her fingers in front of your face when you’d unknowinfly spaced out the window. “Now, up on those toes, back straight and head held high, Your Highness. Let us see if you’ve mastered your dance routine. You must understand it is the most crucial part of the ball and all eyes will be watching you. You cannot afford to make a single mistake.”

Suddenly remembering of why you were spacing out, you winced at the previous phone call prior to Rubine’s arrival. “I am well aware of that, Rubine, but...”

“But?”

“My dance partner, Philippe, just called to say he’s fallen ill and cannot make it today.”

“Ah, Philippe!” Rubine tugged at her hair, dramatically bending forwards to groan, “This is the final rehearsal! Your coronation is so near!” She sat up straight and paced back and forth, her long locks jumping and bouncing as she chewed at her nails. “Well, what shall we do now? We don’t have anyone else to practice with you and I’m only here to substitute for Madam Tee. She’d kill me if she finds out you didn’t rehearse, and I doubt any of the boy servants would know anything about the dance.”

“If I may,” Nanami suddenly spoke up from the corner, tentatively approaching the both of you with one of his hands laid flat on his abdomen. You and Rubine fell silent, his eyes flitting over yours for a moment. “I’ve been with the Princess from all of her dance classes. I know the routine very well,” his tongue darted out to lick at his lips, sending both your mind and heart into a frenzy overdrive. “If Her Highness is comfortable with it, I may be her dance partner for now.”

“That works, I suppose.”

“I’d like to see you dance, Nanamin,” you teased confidently, but no mistake, your heart drummed wildly in your chest at the idea of dancing with the man who’d unknowingly captured both your eye and heart the moment you met him. “Let’s see how good you are then. I warn you though; I’m a very skilled dancer. But please, don’t fret, I won’t criticize you.”

You expected Nanami to at least go along with your lighthearted teasing, but he was Nanami Kento; a very dutiful servant who lived to please and serve his master.

He simply pressed a polite kiss to the pads of your knuckled when you offered it, his eyes still unreadable as he praised, “You are a very good dancer indeed, Your Highness.”

You already knew that, but hearing it fall from his lips hit differently. It suddenly got harder and harder to remember the routine, your confidence slipping into thin air the moment his warm hands wound around the curve of your waist, flattening at the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as you looped your fingers through his larger, calloused ones, and your heart absolutely melted because you fit just perfectly in his hands. Considering that you’d taken off your gloves, you could feel ever callous and scar in his hands, a huge contrast to your soft ones that had never known a day of manual labor.

Nanami was close enough you could feel his breath warm your cheeks, with you staring up at him with wide, blown out eyes. He was still expressionless as ever, jaw tight and brows dipped low, but you could see the softness in his gaze – nearly bordering on adoration.

In that moment, you felt yourself falling harder, and soon, you were both lost in the music.

Nanami was right – he did know the dance. For such an unyielding protector, Nanami danced extremely well, his turns and guidance to your twists flawless.

He caught you in his arms each time, his hands slipping back to hold your waist as if it was second nature for him to hold you like this, to dance with you like this. Everything faded into nothingness at the background, both your gazes captured and enamored by one another. Somewhere in the climax of the dance, your chest pressed flush against his a little tighter, your hands squeezing his a little harder, and you both danced like you were the only ones that mattered in each other’s world.

And in that moment, it felt like you did.

When the music slowly faded out to its ending, you and Nanami were both breathing hard from the strenuous performance that required the utmost elegant execution. Still, his hands remained on your waist, your hand holding him in such a manner that you almost refused to let him go.

But you had to – you knew you had to – and with a broken smile, you pulled away from Nanami.

“Wow,” breathed out Rubine “Princess, I am blown away. You’ve danced better than you ever did with Philippe. You two have got amazing chemistry,” she rubbed her chin at the observation, but you and Nanami were turned away from each other, both of your hearts more conflicted than ever. Rubine, however, remained unknowing of this all. “I guess being around each other all the time adds in to that fact too. That was a very mesmerizing and intimate performance – I actually felt a little guilty that I’m witnessing such moment.”

“I am glad I could be of service to Her Highness.”

Your gaze cut through his, the heat in your eyes loud enough that he was compelled to hold your stare. You immediately softened at his expression; giving in to the pleads of your heart that you were and always will be, utterly and hopelessly in love with him – even if it was impossible he’d ever feel the same way.

Surely, though, it wouldn’t be so much of a sin for a princess to be selfish in a while. “I look forward to dancing with you on the ball, Nanamin.”

“I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” Nanami’s eyes blanked out into an unfathomable expression again, making you wonder if the fondness he held you with when you danced ever existed. “You would be swarmed and surrounded by royals and elites – and I shall be watching out for you from the distance, as always. It’s going to be a crucial event and you have duties to fulfil; a dance with your bodyguard would only ruin the importance of the event,” he reminded you, his words like a slap to your face.

You didn’t have to be scholarly enough to interpret the meaning of his words; Nanami was reminding you that he was servant as you were master, and it simply would not happen. “Who knows what people would say...I only worry about your reputation, Your Highness. Words cut deeper than a knife.”

“I know that,” you agreed with a shattered heart, “I guess I’ll just dream then.”

The coronation went smoother than expected. Until it wasn’t. People from all over the world came, chatting with you about the latest political trends and plans on how you wished to broaden your territories and expand trading systems.

Everything went fine and accordingly to plan until the marriage talk was brought up. Before you knew it, princes and dukes, along with equally socially powerful men came flooding left and right, pressing kisses to your (thankfully) gloved hands and spewing out poetry as if it would impress you. In a way, it did, at least most of them had good taste in literature and were actually well-read, but your eyes kept searching for a certain blond in the crowd, that sinking feeling only growing in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually, it became too much for you.

A neighboring prince asked for your marriage and announced he was good friends with your family, and that about crossed the line and tipped you over the edge until you excused yourself. Growing too tired with all this unnecessary “royal duties”, you disappeared from the crowd, running to the nearest desolated terrace and crying your eyes out.

You never wanted to be a princess.

You never wanted to be born with such luxury, only to pay a price that you couldn’t even choose your own future.

You lost track of time and you no longer questioned why no one looked for you. With each passing second, the crown above your braided hair grew a lot heavier and you slumped across the pillar, burying your tear-streaked face behind your arms. You just felt so tired you wanted to rest – wanted to see Nanami, to run away, to tell him that you loved him.

But he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even seen him the moment you woke up, servants flocking you at every corner as they prepared you for the event.

Your heart ached and you called out for him in broken whispers, wishing that he’d be there to comfort you. “Nanami,” you cried out softly. It was pathetic, really, that the newly crowned queen was crying like a child who lost their toy as you hid from the crowd. “Nanami, where are you, Nanami—”

A pair of arms tugged you into a solid chest, your cheek pressing on top of a rapid heartbeat that raced to no end. Warm, strong arms engulfed you in a hug, a heavy head with a familiar scent falling on the sides of your head that was free from the tips of the crown.

“I thought I lost you, Queen,” Nanami panted, his hold on you growing tighter. Your tears stopped flowing as you fisted his shirt, weakening in his arms and he let you – he knew even the Queen of this prosperous kingdom was still a person and you allowed yourself to grow vulnerable, because this was Nanami and Nanami always caught you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the salt of your tears passing to his cheeks.

Nanami stood frozen solid for a second before he kissed you back, taking your breath away because his lips held the same wanting as yours did. Soon, his large hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer to him, sighing into your mouth as if he’s dreamed of this moment as long as you had. Nanami kissed you with so much love pouring from his lips that he didn’t have to tell you for you to know, prompting the dam within you to break.

You were crying – the happy tears flowing endlessly – while his thumbs wiped the tears away.

“I love you,” you confessed as you both pulled away, foreheads pressed against each other. This time, there was no more fear or worry as love shone in both your eyes, your hands still helplessly clinging on to him for dear life. “I love you, Nanami, I’ve always loved you. Please don’t leave me – please don’t.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Your Majesty,” he addressed you according to your new title, but nothing has changed for him. “I have loved you too long before, and I’ll still keep loving you if you’ll let me.”

That night, you both shared a plethora of first. The first kiss. The first dance. The first I love you’s that wouldn’t stop spilling from your lips, the confessions accompanied with laughter. It was only the beginning of a wonderful yet unforgettable memory, and you abandoned all the riches and gold in the world because this, right here was your real treasure, and you sealed your promise of your faith affection to him with one last kiss.

Ever since you and Nanami had established your relationship, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

Being Queen didn’t seem too much of a grueling task anymore, not when Nanami was grazing his thumb over your knuckles under the table when you were doing paperwork, not when work days and boring, dreadful meetings always ended with him pulling you aside as everyone left for a quick kiss that soon turned into a heated lip-locking.

This was bliss – to have him right here, to finally be able to express how much you loved him – and you couldn’t get enough it.

You still had no king despite the number of suitors that visited every week, so much so that the maids have grown weary of cleaning up your trash bin filled with unopened love letters. Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less because you already had the love of your life within your arms. You turned everyone down, and it wasn’t a huge deal because you were just crowned Queen and surely you had far better things to do than worry about bringing about an heir, but it had already been a year and your advisors were mad.

They’ve informed you that several cities and kingdoms were losing trust over your reclusiveness, the diplomatic relationship turning strained thanks to your eagerness to deny everyone.

Your tongue slipped inside Nanami’s, his hands crawling under your night gown as his body crawled between your legs, with you sighing romantically into his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” he mumbled through stuttering kisses, his fingers deftly pressing into your curves. Despite your insistence that he addressed you by your name, Nanami requested that he still keep his duty as your bodyguard, and you were too soft to deny him this. “Your Majesty…I think we should put an end to this.”

You stopped kissing him.

Hands falling from his neck, you pulled away from him, eyes hardened into a glare. “What do you mean we should put an end to this? Are you suggesting we break up?”

“Yes.”

You gritted your teeth at how he said this so easily. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Nanami beat you to it, distracting you by pressing soft kisses on the column of your neck, always so gentle and careful to not leave marks where the maids could see.

“I’m only worried about you,” he whispered, “I am ruining your reputation because I am in love with you. Your Majesty, I promise to still serve you and be loyal to you,” Nanami pulled away after leaving one last kiss to the sensitive area of your neck that always had you whining in his arms, but this time, you whined out of desperation, nails digging into his bicep as he stared at you apologetically. “We cannot keep doing this, Your Majesty. We both cannot be selfish enough to abandon the future of our people.”

“Well, what about my future?” you banged your fist on your chest, “What about my happiness, Nanami, ever think about that?”

Nanami wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, pulling you into the comfort of his arms instead. He understood your pain better than anyone for he, too, shared your longing.

“I don’t want you to go,” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly that it crumbled beneath your grip. “It’s not a life if it’s not with you and just tell me what I have to do, I’ll abandon my title and I’ll stay with you, we don’t have to—”

Nanami silenced you with a kiss, this one more ardent than the others.

He whispered sweet nothings into yours, broken promises that he’d stay, that you didn’t have to change anything and that you could work it out. You believed him, or at least you fooled yourself that you did, because your hold on him was regretful, angry, begging.

The next morning, Nanami was gone from your chambers.

The next night, Nanami was gone from the servant chambers.

The next week, you were married to Prince Satoru from a Kingdom you’d never even heard of.

Nanami resigned. As per rule of the kingdom, staff didn’t need the monarch’s permission to be dismissed from their post. He wasn’t there in your wedding, and he wasn’t there for the next few days to come. These days stretched into weeks, and two months have already passed before you were silently staring out at your window, wondering what Nanami was doing.

The last thing you heard from him was that he went back to his family’s warm, living a peaceful life and bowing one last time to you before he completely disappeared.

His letter remained in your drawers, his neat cursive informing you that he was a lowly servant, and didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t want to ruin your future and only wanted the best for you. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to curse him for it – but you only tossed and turned in your bed, staring at the ceilings as you pictured his rare smile over and over again.

You wondered how he was doing.

Was he happy? Was he okay? Did he think of you night before he slept? Did he miss you the same way you craved his touch, his voice, his laugh – everything about him and himself?

A loud rattling caught your attention, your head turning to see Prince, or rather, King Satoru saunter in. He was popular in his kingdom and even rumored to have a harem, which you could see happening because he was flirty and shameless.

It was clear that this was a loveless marriage and he only agreed because he had good ties with your family, also adding in to the fact he was the richest and most powerful out of all your suitors. You weren’t too friendly with him, but you weren’t treating each other like strangers too. You both acknowledged each other according to the title, but it never stretched to the fact he was man and you his wife.

Satoru had never talked to you before other than the common pleasantries, so it surprised you when he sat across you, mirroring that familiar torn and forlorn feeling as he stared at your kingdom.

“You and I,” he began quietly, “We both want what we cannot have, don’t we?”

“Hmm.”

“I know you’re in love with someone else,” Satoru smiled, and your eyes widened when he only chuckled knowingly. “It’s okay, Queen, I promise I don’t mind. In fact, I’m just the same as you – I’m madly in love with my butler you won’t understand.”

You nearly toppled over your seat at the sudden confession that Satoru laughed as he helped pull you up, but it didn’t stop you from blabbering.

“You-you’re in love with Geto Suguru?”

“That I am. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, to be honest, but people had different expectations and plans for me, as you can see.”

“I,” your throat ran dry, your palms growing sweaty. Surely…you could trust him with this, right? “I’m also in love with my bodyguard, or former bodyguard, anyway. His name is Nanami Kento and he’s currently at his farm and I-I—”

“You want to see him and break this marriage?” Satoru didn’t even have to hear the words come from your mouth before he’s pulling you up to your feet, crystalline blue eyes as vivid as the sky. “Well, what’s holding you back, Queen? Let’s go look for him.”

Satoru dragged you along the hallways, liberated laughter echoing in the large space of the castle before you two saddle up your respective horses, shouting for the gate guards to move away. You’ve never felt this free – and Satoru shared the same glee as yours when he stretched his arms beyond the sky, whooping as he smacked his horse to go faster.

By the time you’ve made it into Nanami’s farm, it was nearly sunset, and both you and Satoru were drained from the long journey.

Nanami was dressed in a plain shirt and worn-out sweatpants, dirt caked on his sunken cheeks when he turned at the sounds of horses galloping, you perched on top of your white stallion proudly. “Nanami!” his eyes widened and he dropped the bucket he was holding, the breath taken away from his chest when you jumped off your horse, crashing him into a huge hug.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke breathily, hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “What are you doing here? And King Satoru? What’s going on?”

You answered him by dragging his collar down until his lips danced with yours. Just like that, all your worries and previous sorrows washed away into nothing as his hands gripped tightly at your hips, kissing you back just as eagerly that even he was crying. This time around, you reached to swipe your thumb over the warm tears, kissing him over and over again to remind him your feelings hadn’t changed.

“Let’s go home, Nanami. I promise I’ll do everything right this time around – just please, come home with me.”

You’ve lost count of the times you’ve prayed to the divine beings over and over again to give you one last chance, fearful that maybe Nanami would still be firm in his belief that he wasn’t good enough for you when he was perfect the way he is.

But then he kissed the crown of your head as a silent form of affection, staring deep into your eyes as he smiled, “Your wish has always been my command, Your Majesty.”

Nanami had his back turned to you, his slender hands plucking the violet flower. Upon hearing your not so sneaky footsteps, he whipped around and laughed just as you roared, making the little girl in his arms giggle, copying your greeting as she hissed her fangs.

“Rawr!”

“Aw, you’re so adorable!” you pinched her little cheeks before peppering them with kisses, your precious daughter laughing at the sudden shower of affection. Nanami laughed, too, the deep sound vibrating from deep within his chest. He held up your baby to kiss the left side of her cheeks while you squished her right, your baby’s cheeks smushed between the adoration of her parents. “You’re so cute – just like Daddy!”

“I am not cute,” he protested dejectedly, although the small smile on his face told a different story.

It wasn’t easy – none of this ever was, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. The old school traditions of your kingdoms were abolished due to a long, hefty process of appealing to the public and proving that love should never be constrained by rules and traditions, and now Satoru was also happily married with his husband, Geto Suguru. The last letter you got from him informed you they adopted a two baby boys named Megumi and a feisty little girl called Nobara, and you were excited for the children to meet and play again.

Safe to say, it was all worth it. All the moments led up to this were painful and filled with longing, but you’d do it all over again if you could.

Because this was what you promised him – endless faith and affection – and you sealed this lifelong promise with a kiss.

“I love you, King,” you mumbled through his lips, and he laughed as he rocked the baby side to side. The kiss was slightly awkward since her grubby hands were trying to clutch both of your chins, sending you both into fits of laughter.

“I love you too, Queen,” he kissed the top of your head and your crown with it – for you were his woman, his wife, and the Queen who ruled all of his heart – leaning down to kiss his baby’s cheeks before he pulled you both in for a hug. The atmosphere that day was similar from when you first forced him to have a picnic with you; warm, sunny, with the wind encouraging the flowers to dance in sync like how you danced with Nanami when you were younger. Your baby gurgled nonsensically, Nanami smiling to himself as you both stared at the bundle of joy in his arms. “I love you too, Violet. Mommy and Daddy loves you a lot.”

To love him, to hold him, to cherish him – it was a promise you held deep within your soul.