#trying to implement them into my life even though it feels uncomfortable

[rustinged]

thankful for the people who allow me to be weird around them and I intend to pass that on forever

[number1jeonginstan]

A/N: I did my own thing with regard to this request as well as tried a different style of writing. I wanted to implement him being sweet and gentle as he stalked you. But idk if I really did that. This was fun to write though, and my requests are once again open so please send me something. I hope y'all enjoy it so please don't be shy and comment or reblog with your opinions because I would love to hear them - ju <3

wc: 9k (what if I told y'all I wrote this all in less than one day with sleep.)

pairing:morethankinda stalker!Felix x afab!reader

DNI if you are uncomfortable with reader giving in kind of easily. This is meant to be a stalker fic, so if you feel uncomfortable, please do not interact. I made this more dubcon because reader does give her consent, but I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable!

warnings: porn WITH a plot (like 2.5k words of smut...), kinda Stockholm syndrome, oral!fem receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, panty sniffing, edging, idk what else!

“Who orders pineapple juice at a coffee shop?” you giggled looking at Felix as he started making an ice americano for the next customer in line. 

"Someone who doesn't want caffeine and enjoys the taste of tropical fruit, I guess." 

"Or a weirdo!" you giggled before calling out the drink for Christopher.

He chuckled along with you, enjoying the banter. His eyes watched you closely as you called out the drink, taking in every detail of your movements.

"Hey, weird can be good sometimes. Adds some spice to life, right?"

"Yeah, as long as they aren't creepy. My best friend's ex used to follow her after they broke up, even texting her from new phone numbers" You frowned before working on your next drink. 

He nodded, a frown of feigned concern on his face. 

In truth, he found himself growing more fascinated with you the more you talked. He only applied for the job to get closer to you.

The first time Felix came into “The View” he saw you smiling ever so brightly, giving this little girl a free cup of hot chocolate. From that moment on, he knew he had to get to know you, no matter the cost. 

He bribed the hiring manager with a batch of his homemade brownies. In exchange for a job, he had to make at least one batch a day. He didn’t mind working overtime, as long as he was close to you. 

He snapped out of his thoughts, finally responding to you. "That's horrible. No one deserves to be stalked like that. I hope she's doing better now."

"She is, she was really straight with him after the second time, and he stopped which is good, but sometimes I feel like I'm being watched. I don’t know how to explain it, but especially when my shift ends whenever we are working together. Maybe it's just in my head" you sighed before calling out for the next customer.

He tried to act nonchalant, but his mind was racing. Was he that obvious? Was he being too creepy? 

"I hope it's just in your head," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixated on you as you called out to the next customer, trying to look away before you noticed him practically staring.

"Yeah, me too. Who knows, maybe I'm just being delusional," you sighed, too caught up in your own world, thinking about the late-night fear of constantly being watched. You were so distracted that you didn't even realize you had almost gripped the machine's steam frother with your bare hand.

His eyes widened as he noticed your hand grasping for the frother without a cloth. He quickly reached out to stop you, grabbing your hand gently but firmly, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Hey, watch out, you'll burn yourself!"

"Oh shit, thanks Lixie, I don’t know what I would do without you" you muttered, snapping yourself out of it and getting back to the drink at hand. 

He held onto your hand for a moment longer, enjoying the feel of your skin. He reluctantly let go and smiled at you, trying to act casual. "Lixie," the nickname rolled off your tongue, making his heart flutter. "No problem, just don't want you hurting yourself, you know?"

"I got it, I was just too in my head. I wish there was someone I could walk home with so I would no longer feel so terrified" you sighed, making sure there were no other orders to be completed before ranting away to Felix.

His heart skipped a beat as you confessed your desire to have someone walk you home. He saw his chance and took it. He pretended to be deep in thought, contemplating something before speaking. 

"You know, I don't mind walking you home after our shift ends. If it makes you feel safer."

"You would do that for me?" you asked excitedly, thankful for him. 

He nodded quickly, his smile growing wider. He had to control himself not to seem too eager. This is his chance to be closer to you. 

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's the least I can do. I don't want you to be scared walking home alone at night."

"Thank you so much Lixie!" you grinned, watching the way he reciprocated your smile. His freckles shine extra bright.

He chuckled softly as you thanked him, his heart-warming as you called him “Lixie”. He found himself smiling more than usual, enjoying the way the nickname sounded coming from your lips.

"No problem, really. It’ll be nice to have some company on the walk home too”.

"I hope it's not out of your way though, I don't even know where you live" you pouted, unsure if letting him walk you home would cause him too much trouble.

He chuckled, seeing your pout and finding it adorable. He reassured you with a wave of his hand. 

"Don't worry about it, it's not out of my way at all. And if it was, I wouldn't mind." 

In truth, he was willing to walk the extra mile (literally) to be able to spend a few more moments with you.

"Are you a hundred percent sure?" too scared that you were inconveniencing him due to your paranoia. 

He nodded, his expression gentle and sincere as he looked into your eyes.

 "I'm absolutely sure. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it. I want you to feel safe, and if walking you home is what it takes, then I'm more than happy to do so."

He smiled, feeling a twinge of guilt about his actual motives, but pushing it away. All that mattered to him was being close to you. He took another glance at his watch, noticing that it was almost time to clock out. 

"Actually, our shift is almost done. Ready to head out?"

"We have to make a batch of brownies first though?"  

You looked at him a bit puzzled, not understanding that it was his eagerness that was causing him to forget all about his obligation.  You just chalked it off to him always being a bit forgetful since you became friends with him.

It was a common occurrence, whether it be forgetting to add mocha to a drink or a whole batch of cookies in the oven, Felix always seemed to be just a tad distracted. 

He mentally slapped himself for being so caught up in the moment that he forgot about the brownies. He tried to play it cool. "Right right, I almost forgot about that." 

He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We do that first, then close shop."

"Let's get to it then!" you giggled, walking to the front and locking it, turning over the kitten 'Open!' sign that your manager Lee Know had bought before rushing back towards him following him into the cafe's kitchen. 

He followed you into the kitchen, his heart fluttering as he listened to your giggles. Once in the kitchen, he quickly gathered the ingredients for the brownies, setting them on the workbench. 

"Okay, I'll start getting everything measured. Can you preheat the oven?"

“You got it Lix!” you replied back, quickly preheating the oven to 350. 

He smiled at your reply, feeling more and more relaxed in your presence. As he started measuring out the ingredients, he occasionally glanced at you, watching as you preheated the oven. He found himself mesmerized by your every little movement.

"Isn't that too much chocolate Lix?" you asked looking at the bowl that he usually double-broiled the chocolate in.

He glanced down at the bowl, realizing he had indeed put in almost too much chocolate. 

"Oh, right... maybe I got a bit carried away there." He chuckled sheepishly, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks as he began to measure out a more appropriate amount of chocolate.

"I mean you can never have too much chocolate!" you grinned before eating the excess piece he had taken out, popping it into your mouth. 

He couldn't help but laugh when you ate the excess piece of chocolate, finding your antics adorable. His eyes lingered on your lips as you popped it into your mouth, silently wishing he could be the one feeding you the chocolate.

"You're right, but we still need some chocolate left for the brownies," he joked, his smile widening.

With a playful nudge, he continued measuring the correct amount of chocolate, his gaze flicking back to you. 

"But hey, maybe I could save a few extra pieces for us for some late-night chocolate indulgence, just between you and me."

"I like the way you think Lee Felix" 

You fed him a piece whilst taking another one for yourself, savoring the sweet taste of Hershey’s chocolate. Since you’ve begun helping him bake his brownies, he’s always been adamant about only using Hershey.

His heart skipped a beat as you fed him the piece of chocolate, the sweetness of it almost as sweet as the feeling of your touch. He felt a warm rush of pleasure run through him as he took the chocolate from your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I do have some good ideas every now and then," he replied, his voice soft and a hint of a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

You continued to help Felix with both the measuring and mixing, not trusting the stand mixer seeing as you didn't want to incorporate too much gluten into the brownies themselves. The two of you laughed away as you finished mixing and pouring the batter into their respective pans.

After the two of you finished pouring the batter into the pans and setting them in the oven, Felix couldn't help but stare at you as you both laughed together about past customers, especially the one who tried to jump over the counter to steal Lix’s brownie recipe.

 The sound of your laughter was like music to his ears, and his heart ached with a desire to keep making you laugh like this every day.

"I have to say," he said, his voice slightly hesitant, "making these brownies is always more enjoyable when you're here. You make everything better."

"Wow thanks, Lix, you are always so sweet" You pinched his cheeks admiring how squishy they were. 

Felix chuckled at your gesture, feeling his cheeks heat up underneath your pinch. He couldn't help but notice how close you were to him, your touches sending small jolts of electricity through his body.

He then looked away, pretending to busy himself by cleaning up the workstation, his heart still racing from your touch. In reality, all he wanted to do was pull you closer and just hold you, but he knew he had to control himself.

“Let me help you!” 

You didn’t want him to do everything himself, especially after he was the one who offered to walk you home, it was the least you could do. 

He was touched by your eagerness to help, his heart melting at your thoughtfulness. He wanted to tell you that he didn't mind doing it himself, but the words got stuck in his throat as he looked at your determined expression. Instead, he simply gave you a small smile. 

"Alright, if you insist," he said, handing you a cloth to wipe down the counter.

It was a sight he was used to. Every night after the two of you closed shop, you bid him a quick farewell, and he would follow you home. He was always 20 steps behind, his hood covering his face just in case. 

Unbeknownst to you, he would watch you through your kitchen window. His eyes fixated on your every move. He knew so many of your habits by now, like the way you used utensils to sing along to whatever was playing in your headphones. Or the way you always drank green tea instead of coffee, letting it steep in your owl mug. He would watch you for hours, no matter the weather, just to get the smallest peak into your life. 

He had become a little obsessed, in all honesty. He found himself unable to tear himself away from the view of you going about your day, his heart and mind fully fixated on you. Every time he peered into your kitchen window, he felt a mix of guilt and excitement. 

The guilt, of course, came from the fact that he was practically stalking you, but the excitement came from the opportunity to see you again, even if it was from afar.

He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help it. The need to see you, to be near you was too strong to resist.

“Hey Lixie, I think we are pretty much done, are you ready to go?" you asked, pulling the brownies out of the oven directly putting saran wrap on them, and putting them in the fridge so they could get a thick crackle on them by the time Lee Know was supposed to come in and cut them for the morning rush. 

He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, his mind in a daze. 

"Uh, right..." he said, trying to compose himself. "Yeah, we're all done. Let's go."

As he watched you put on your jacket, he couldn't help but take in your every movement, his heart rate increasing once again. He felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves as he realized he was actually going to walk you home, something he had been secretly dreaming of for weeks now.

“You ready to lock up?” you asked, your head cocking to the side as you jingled the keys in front of him, ushering him to leave the building. 

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, clearing his throat. "Let's get going." 

He reached out and took the keys from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. It felt like an electric shock running through his body, and he instinctively pulled back, hoping you didn't notice the effect your touch had on him.

The two of you began walking side by side, the silence of the world around you causing you peace. You could no longer feel the lingering eyes that roamed your body as you had for the past few months. Instead, you felt a sense of comfort as you walked beside Felix. 

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He was just so aware of your presence, the subtle scent of your perfume, the way your shoulder occasionally brushed against his...it was driving him crazy. It was too silent for his liking so he urged to start a conversation with you, anything to break the tension. 

"Um, so...how's your day been?" he finally managed to ask, wincing inwardly at how lame it sounded.

"Lixie, we had the same day?" 

You chuckled at his antics, your own breath stable compared to his harsh breathing as he just blinked at you, unable to process what you had just said. 

"Hello? Earth to Lee Yongbok Felix, you alive in there?"

He blinked again, his brain finally catching up with what you had said. He chuckled nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Right...sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired." 

He mentally kicked himself for being so obvious. He couldn't let on how much your presence affected him. He was supposed to act cool and casual like nothing was going on inside his head. But he was finding it increasingly difficult to do so with every step he took next to you.

"That's your apartment isn't it?" he asked pointing up to your building. The two of you were just a couple hundred feet away from it. 

"Yeah, it is, how did you know?" you asked, a confused look on your face.

You had never brought Felix to your apartment, in a matter of fact, the only people who knew where you lived were your parents, a couple of close friends, and Lee Know because it was on your resume. 

Felix froze, his heart skipping a beat. 

He had let slip that he knew where you lived without realizing it. He mentally cursed himself, trying to think of a quick explanation. He couldn't let you know he had been the one following you home every night. That would be creepy and completely ruin any chance he had with you. 

He swallowed hard, forcing a casual laugh. "Oh, uh...I just guessed. Lucky hunch, I guess."

Before you could even respond, the sky darkened and fat raindrops began to fall, drenching both of you. The chill soaked through your clothes, making you shiver. He stood there, stunned by the sudden downpour. Without a second thought, you grabbed his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against the cold rain. You tugged him urgently, splashing through puddles as you ran towards your apartment building. The sound of rain and hurried footsteps filled the air. Breathless, you pulled him inside, the warmth and dryness a welcome relief from the storm outside.

Felix felt a rush of adrenaline as you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the building. The sudden rain had caught him off guard, but the feeling of your hand, warm and tight around his, sent a tingle down his spine.

 He quickly followed you inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to keep his composure, but being this close to you, holding your hand, was doing all sorts of things to him.

"Here why don't you come up to my apartment, I don't want you to get sick from this weather. You can dry off and we can eat something!" 

His heart leaped at your suggestion. The thought of being in your apartment, of being alone with you...it was both exciting and nerve-wracking. But he couldn't say no, not when you were being so kind to him. 

He nodded, trying not to let his eagerness show too much. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude..."

"I really don't mind. Come up and change into some dry clothes, okay? I'll order us something to eat. Are you okay with Thai food?" you asked as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

 Both of you were drenched, and a puddle began to form at your feet as you waited to reach your floor.

Felix nodded again, his thoughts racing as he watched the elevator numbers climb. He was going to be in your apartment, alone with you, it was like a dream come true. 

"Thai food sounds great," he managed to say, his voice slightly breathless. "I'll eat anything right now, I'm starving."

"I would hope so, you didn't eat anything our entire shift today" you pouted, trying to remember if he even had his daily shaken iced espresso with oat milk that he usually makes twice a shift.

He chuckled at your pout, his heart melting at how cute you looked. He also found it sweet that you kept track of if he had eaten or not. It was one of the many things about you that he loved. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I was so busy today that I kind of forgot to take a break."

 He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. He didn't want to admit that he had been so distracted thinking about you that he hadn't even thought about eating.

"That's not good Lix, you shouldn't over-exert yourself" you scolded him while trying to find the keys to your apartment.

"I know, I know, I just had a lot on my mind today," he admitted, feeling a little guilty for not taking better care of himself.

You finally found your keys and opened the door, allowing him to step inside. "I'm going to shower real quick, and then you can go after me so you don't catch a cold, okay?"

He nodded, trying to keep his cool as he stepped into your apartment. His heart was racing again as he thought about you being naked and wet only a few feet away. 

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Just don't take too long, or I might get lonely and start raiding your fridge." He joked, trying to hide his inner thoughts.

He chuckled at the sight of the empty fridge, making a mental note to offer to take you grocery shopping sometime. He quickly took your phone from you, looking down at the already-opened delivery app with your part of the order placed. 

He watched as you headed towards the bathroom, a lump forming in his throat as he imagined you stripping down and stepping into the shower. The image was burned into his mind, and it took all his self-control to not follow you into the bathroom. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked down at your phone, trying to distract himself. 

He glanced at the bathroom door, wondering how long you would be. He was trying not to be impatient, but his mind and body were both eagerly anticipating your return.

You stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind you as you wrapped a towel around your damp hair. Droplets of water trickled down your neck and shoulders, soaking into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt and shorts, making them cling to your skin. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down your spine as you padded softly across the floor toward Felix. 

Felix's breath caught in his throat as you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and wearing thin, clinging clothes. The sight of you, still slightly wet and rosy from the shower, was almost too much for him to handle. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of damp skin, and his heart skipped several beats. 

He managed to tear his gaze away from you and tried to act casual, but he couldn't help the way his body reacted to your presence. He swallowed hard, trying to control the ache in his jeans.

"Hey, Lix," you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of warmth. "The bathroom is free, so please go ahead and shower. Just hand me your clothes so I can dry them for you, okay?"

"I also left an extra pair of clothes and a towel in the bathroom so it's easier for you"

He quickly stood up, trying to adjust his jeans again and hide his arousal. He picked up his wet clothes from the floor and walked towards the bathroom. 

"Thanks," he said, his voice a little huskier than usual. "I won't be too long." 

He entered the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind him. He leaned against the door, taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves and the growing tension in his body.

He slowly stripped off his damp clothes, tossing them towards the door. He couldn't help but glance at the pile of clothes, imagining you taking them off of your body. He quickly picked up your shirt, smelling your scent on it, and the thought made him shiver.

Felix's heart nearly stopped when he saw the pair of black lace panties lying on the floor. His eyes widened and he quickly looked away, his heart rate immediately increasing. 

Before he could stop himself, he picked them up and brought them closer to his face, taking in the scent of your laundry detergent essence on the fabric.

His cock hardened at the thought of you wearing them, your pussy pressing and rubbing against them as the two of you worked the entire day. 

He let out a groan before slowly wrapping the fabric around his leaking cock. What you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you right? It’s not like he was purposely doing it, it was just right there for his convenience. 

He muffled his moans as he pumped his cock with your underwear, trying to be as quiet as possible as the water ran in the background. His only thought was you. 

You when you wore those cute little dresses. You. When you always bent over to get things from the fridge for him knowing how much his back ached. You. who helped him embrace his freckles. You, who was in this bathroom mere minutes before him, fully naked. 

With that he came with a groan, quickly hopping into the shower to ride out his high under the steaming hot water, cleaning your underwear of any evidence of infidelity while he was at it. 

He grabbed the soap and began to run it over his body, scrubbing away the layers of dirt and sweat, and the shame of him cumming on your pretty little panties, only further intoxicated him with your scent. 

He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until you knocked on the door to the bathroom. 

"Felix?"

He heard your voice calling out to him, breaking the spell. He quickly threw the lace into his pile of clothes and turned off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Yeah?" he called out, his voice a bit shaky. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, the food just here so I was wondering if you were finished washing up?"

He took a quick breath, trying to compose himself. 

"Yeah, I'm just about done. I'll be out in a minute." 

He stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and water droplets running down his chest and arms. He tried to ignore the way your eyes lingered on his bare skin, pretending not to notice the slight flush that was creeping up your neck.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea I forgot to leave clothes for you in the bathroom" you whispered, your cheeks reddened. 

You quickly handed them to him before scurrying out of your room.

Felix chuckled as you handed him the clothes, his heart warming at your flustered state. He found it endearing how shy you were about accidentally forgetting to leave him clothes to change into. He tried to ignore the way his body reacted to the sight of you blushing and flustered, his towel becoming uncomfortably tight for a brief moment.

He quickly dressed in the clothes you had given him, trying his best not to focus on the fact that they smelled like you. The baggy t-shirt was comfortable, but the way it clung to his damp skin and hair made him feel even more on edge.

He took another deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping back into the living room where you were setting down plates and chopsticks. 

"So, what's for dinner?" he asked, feigning nonchalance and hoping you wouldn't notice the small bulge in his sweatpants.

You held up the two takeout containers, "well I ordered drunken noodles, and I kind of forgot what you did. We can always share!"

Felix chuckled again, feeling relieved that you hadn't noticed his current...situation. He tried to keep his mind off the way your shirt dipped low enough to show off your collarbones, and the way your shorts rode up slightly on your thighs. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the food. 

"Sounds good to me," he said, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving."

He walked over to the couch, sat down, and tried to keep his pose casual. He glanced over at you, noticing how your hair was still damp and your cheeks were still slightly pink. The sight made his heart rate speed up again, and he tried to distract himself by looking down at the food.

He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and started digging into the noodles, trying to act like everything was normal. But as he watched you eat, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to dirty thoughts. He could see your lips wrapped around the utensils, the way your tongue would flick out to catch any stray noodle…

“You okay Lixie?” you asked, looking up at him as you ate more of your food. Your cheeks are slightly full causing him to choke on his own dish. 

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice a little strained. "Just...hungry, you know?"

A while passed like this, the silence of the room only occasionally broken up by small talk. The both of you were too infatuated in your food to even register what else was happening. 

"Do you want me to wash up your plate?" you asked, getting up from the cushion you were on.

Felix's eyes followed you as you got up, watching the way your shirt rode up even more, revealing more of your smooth, soft skin.

 He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning, his body responding even more to the sight of you moving around, so close and yet so out of reach. 

He quickly cleared his throat and looked away, trying to compose himself. "Uh, yeah, sure," he managed to say, his voice a little hoarse.

"So you aren't going to have your nightly cup of green tea" he asked as you began cleaning up your table and walking over to your kitchen. 

You looked at him startled, your eyes going wide. "How did you know about that?"

Felix chuckled, feeling a wave of affection for you wash over him. He knew you too well to not know about your obsession with green tea. 

"Let's just say I pay closer attention to your habits than you think," he said with a sly smile. "You have a cup of tea every night before bed, like clockwork. It's almost endearing how predictable you are."

"Felix, I've never had green tea at work, the only time I do is when I get home, how did you know what I drink before I go to bed" you asked, worry ridden on your face as you began to look around your kitchen for anything to protect you.

Felix's smile faded as he noticed the look of worry on your face, and he realized his poor choice of words.

"Hey, hey, calm down," he said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "It was just a guess, I swear. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's not just a guess" you screamed. That's when it clicked, he was the one who had been watching you every night. 

The only time you were followed was after your shift with him. He knew exactly what apartment you lived in. It wasn't just a "lucky guess" as he said. He knew everything.

Felix's heart dropped as he realized the extent of his slip-up. You had figured out that he had been watching you, and now you were scared and confused. 

"Listen, please...let me explain," he pleaded, standing up from the couch. "I can explain everything, just please give me a chance to speak."

"No, I don't want an explanation, I need you to get the fuck out" you screamed, curling into a corner in your kitchen, your body shook as you began to speak up again.

"Why are you doing this to me, I thought we were friends" you whined, tears streaming down your face.

Felix's heart broke as he saw the fear and sadness in your eyes. He took a step closer to you but stopped when you shrunk further into the corner, clearly terrified of him.

"I know, I know, but please, just listen to me," he begged, his voice cracking. "I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. I just...I care about you. I care too much. And I thought...I thought I could prevent something bad from happening if I just kept an eye on you."

"How were you helping? You were the one who was causing everything" you continued to sob.

He wanted to deny your accusations, but he knew he couldn't. He had been the one stalking you, following you home every night and watching you from afar. 

He had justified it to himself, telling himself it was for your own good, but now that you knew the truth, he could see how creepy and wrong it was.

 He took a deep breath and looked you in the eye, his voice quiet and shaky. "You're right. I was the one causing everything."

He took a tentative step closer to you but stopped again when he saw the look of fear flash in your eyes. 

"But I...I never meant to scare you," he said, his own eyes tearing up. 

"I just...I just couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you, and I thought if I just kept a constant eye on you, I could prevent it."

"Protect me how!" you screamed, "why would you do this to me?" you continued to sob. 

"I just wanted to make you feel good sweetheart" he whispered, bending down to capture your face in his hand, brushing away your tears.

He brought down his lips towards your before kissing you, the taste of your tears infiltrating his mouth as you attempted to push him away.

He could feel you trying to push him away, but he just held on tighter, refusing to let you go. He knew he didn't deserve to kiss you, not after everything he had done, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to feel your lips on his, even if just for a moment.

"Please sweetheart, want to make you feel good. Won't you be a good baby and take it?" he grinned, watching the way your lips puffed out from him ever so slightly nibbling on it.  Your tears streaking your flushed red cheeks. You looked at him meekly before nodding, taking your hand in his, not understanding how he had such an effect on you.

Felix chuckled as you nodded, his heart swelling with a twisted mix of emotions, and he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he claimed your mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the salty tears that still lingered on them.

“Such a good girl for me” he muttered into your lips. 

Felix chuckled as you nodded, his heart swelling with a twisted mix of emotions, and he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he claimed your mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the salty tears that still lingered on them.

He pushed you backward until your back hit the wall, pinning you against it with his body. He broke the kiss for a moment to look into your eyes, his own eyes darkened with a possessive lust. 

"You're mine, you know that right?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse. "You belong to me and only me."

You whined as he continued to caress your face. 

Felix chuckled again as you whined and leaned into his touch, the sound of your needy whines only fueling his desire for you. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin,

"That's right, sweetheart. You're mine, and I'm never letting go. You're going to do everything I say, and you're going to love every second of it."

He nipped at your earlobe, his hands roaming your body, feeling the soft skin of your back through your shirt.

"And if you're a good girl for me, I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks in his wake.

"Lixie" you whined as he continued to nibble at your skin.

Felix chuckled at your whine, his heart fluttering at the sound of his nickname on your lips. He continued to kiss and bite at your skin, marking you as his, his hands gripping your hips possessively. 

“All needy and desperate," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. "It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you."

You grasped his hand and led him to your room, your senses overwhelmed by his embrace, feeling his warmth as he held you close.

Felix followed you obediently, his grip on your hand tight as he allowed you to lead him into your room. His heart was racing with desire and excitement, his mind consumed with thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to you. 

"So obedient," he murmured, his voice filled with praise as he pressed up behind you once you reached the edge of your bed.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chest pressed against your back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in your scent as his hands roamed your body. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this," he whispered in your ear, his voice thick with desire.

"Really?" you asked, feeling his embrace tighten as he pressed closer. 

Felix hummed in response, his lips trailing kisses along your neck as he held you close. "Yeah, sweetheart," he murmured between kisses, his hands slipping under your shirt to feel your soft skin. 

"For as long as I can remember, I've craved having you like this, all to myself. It's driving me insane with how badly I want you."

"Is that why you kept watching me?" you asked, turning around to face him, your hand clutching his face, tracing every freckle as he began to speak.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice low and hoarse. "That's why. I couldn't resist the urge to watch you, to know every move you made, to make sure you were safe."

"I couldn't stop myself from wanting to keep you close. I needed to feel like I had some control over your life, and watching you was the only way I could do that."

"That's not normal though Lixie"

"I know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I know it's not normal, and I'm sorry. But...but I just...I just couldn't stop myself. I care about you too much."

"Then show me, please," you whispered, kissing his cheek and trailing down to his soft, plump lips.

Felix's heart skipped a beat as you kissed his cheek and then his lips, your whine sending a shiver down his spine. He responded eagerly to your kiss, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of your lips on his. But then he pulled away, a determined look in his eyes. 

"Sweetheart, I can show you, but first you have to promise me something," he said, his voice low and commanding.

"Anything" you whimpered, feeling yourself growing wetter at every passing moment that he wasn't next to you, his touch not being pressed against you

"Promise me that you're mine. Promise me that you belong to me and no one else," he whined as he cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to his face. 

"I promise" you whispered back before kissing him feverishly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You’re all mine now, sweetheart."

Before you could even respond, he pushed you onto the bed, his body following soon after as he settled on top of you. His hands moved under your shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your stomach.

He began to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, stopping to bite and suck at the spot where your shoulder met your neck. He wanted to mark you, to claim you as his own. 

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he murmured against your skin, his hands continuing to roam your body.

"How long Lixie?" you whimpered as he began to pull off your shirt. He took in the sight of your bare skin, biting his lip as he straddled you, his thighs shutting yours closed as he began to kiss up and down your neck. 

"So long" he murmured between kisses. "For years, I've been waiting for this. Wanting you, aching for you."

"Want you too" you whined as you pulled off his shirt, your hands roaming up and down his chiseled chest, watching the way his body clenched slightly as you ran your finger along his abs.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue dipping into your mouth as he pulled you closer to him, his hands roaming your body once again.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he panted, breaking the kiss for a moment before attacking you once again, your lips pressing against one another feverishly.

You gazed at him, noting his ragged breath. "Then show me," you whimpered as his hands began to caress your thighs.

"I'll show you just how much I desire you, just how much I need you."

He began to kiss and bite at your thighs, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of marks on your skin. He wanted to make sure that you would remember this moment, that you would remember who you belonged to.

He murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses up your inner thigh. "Every part of you is mine."

“Yours” you whimpered as he continued to abuse you everywhere but the one place you needed him. 

He loved how needy you were for him, your body begging for his touch. He moved his lips closer to where you needed him, his breath hot against your skin.

Felix's eyebrows raised in surprise and excitement as he pulled off your shorts, his breath catching in his throat as he saw that you weren't wearing any panties. You were so wet it began to drip down to your thighs. 

"You're full of surprises, aren't you baby?" he said, his voice thick with desire. "And here I thought you were a good girl."

He slowly licked a stripe up your cunt, savoring the taste that he couldn’t quite get off your panties. 

“And you taste so good too, could eat you for hours” he moaned before diving back in, his fingers opening up your pretty little cunt for him, allowing him to nip at your clit. 

“Fuck Lix!” you whined above him, your hand finding his hair, intertwining your fingers between it, pushing him deeper into your pretty little pussy.  

He slowly removed his mouth from your cunt, your essence covering the bottom half of his face. “You are going to take what I give you or else you aren’t gonna get anything” he grinned before shoving himself back into you, letting his tongue flick out, swiping across your sensitive flesh, eliciting a gasp from your lips. 

He continued to lick and taste you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as you writhed and whimpered beneath him. He loved the way you tasted. 

“So sweet baby, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted” he muttered into your poor cunt as he began to push his finger inside of you, stretching out your whole. 

“Lixie, it feels so good” you whined as he continued to lap at you, savoring each and every moan and whine that escaped your pretty little lips. 

He continued to tease you, his tongue and lips bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but never quite pushing you over. He could feel how close you were, how your body trembled beneath him. 

"You want to come, don't you, my sweet girl?" he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "But I'm not going to let you. Not yet."

"Why!" you whined underneath him, bucking your hips up to get any sort of stimulation.

He placed his hands on your hips, holding you down with a firm grip, preventing you from bucking against him

"Because I want you to wait for me to fuck you, baby," he murmured, his mouth moving to the other thigh, leaving a trail of love bites in its wake. "I want you to be desperate for me, aching for me. I want to ruin you completely."

His tongue continued to tease you, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your inner thigh, his teeth nipping at your skin as he went.

 "I want you to be so desperate for release that you'll do anything I ask," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And only when you truly beg for me will I finally give you my cock” he chuckled against your cunt. 

"Please Lixie, need you in me, can't do this anymore" you whined, your chest heaving and tears began to stream out of your eyes. He had been edging you for so long, pulling away as soon as he felt you were close to your high. His fingers that were previously thrusting in you stopped completely, his soaked face only rising to laugh at your pathetic face.

"Oh sweetheart, you're so cute when you beg," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "But I don't think you've earned it yet."

"Please, I've been such a good girl for you Lixie, please let me cum, or at least fuck me" you whimpered "I'll do anything, anything you ask me, just please let me cum" you whined, tears falling out faster as your entire body shook from the multiple orgasms that were ripped away from you ever so easily under his grasp.

Felix's eyes darkened at your words, his body responding to your desperate pleas. He loved seeing you like this, so needy and pathetic, begging for him to give you what you so desperately needed. He knew he had complete control over you, and he loved every second of it. 

"Anything, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "You'll do anything I ask, no matter what?"

"Yes Lix, anything, just fuck me already!" you screamed.

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours as he spoke into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl, maybe I should give it to you” 

You simply nodded your head up and down as fast as you physically possible, showing you truly how eager you were for him. 

He laughed at how desperate you were for him, pulling down his boxers, allowing his extremely hard cock to slap his stomach, the tip red and angry already leaking pre-cum. 

It took all his might to not cum in his boxers at the taste of you. 

“Please Lixie, need your cock inside of me” you whined, spreading your legs open for him, allowing him to see how your hole pulsed at just the sight of him standing there, his hard cock slapped against his stomach. 

Felix's eyes darkened even more at your words, his breathing ragged with desire. He was losing control, his own need for you becoming almost too much to resist fucking you. 

He slowly bent down, positioning himself between your legs, his hands pinning your hips to the bed to keep you still. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and possessive.

With that, he pushed inside you, a guttural moan escaping his lips at the feeling of your hot tight cunt wrapping around his length.

You moaned underneath him, his body pressing against yours as you got used to his sheer size inside of you. 

He buried himself deep within you, filling you completely, his hands continuing to roam around your body. He needed to touch you, to make sure that his fantasy were real. 

He had spent nights jerking off to the thought of you begging for his cock, whimpering for him, and it took all his strength to cum right there and then at the sight of your eyes pressed together, your mouth hung open as he began to thrust inside of you. 

He began to move, his thrusts rough and desperate, his breathing ragged and shallow. He needed you, needed to possess you and claim you completely.

“Feels so good Lix”

You kept babbling at the feeling of him inside of you. The only thought on your mind was him. 

“Lix, Lix, Lix” you kept muttering, drool slowly escaping past your lips. 

"You're mine, sweetheart," he repeated, his voice low and rough in your ear. "No one else is ever going to make you feel this way again. Only me. You're mine."

“Only yours” you whimpered out. 

"That's right, sweetheart," he growled, his hips picking up speed. "You're mine and mine alone. No one else will ever touch you, have you, own you. Only me."

He slowly pulled his hand down to where you needed him most, playing with your clit as he continued his brutal pace inside of you. 

"That's right, sweetheart," he growled, his hips picking up speed. "You're mine and mine alone. No one else will ever touch you, have you, own you. Only me."

He buried his face in your neck, his teeth and tongue leaving marks and bites as he continued his relentless pace, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"I won't let anyone else have you," he whispered in your ear, his lips nipping at your skin. " I'll make sure of that. You're mine, forever. No one else will ever know you the way I do. No one else will ever be able to make you feel the way I can."

His hands roamed your body as he continued to claim you, his lips and teeth marking your skin, his hips never ceasing in their relentless pace.

Every time you called out his name, every whimper and moan that escaped your lips, only served to drive him deeper into his primal need for you.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. He wanted to see your face, to see the way you looked at him in this moment, completely lost in the pleasure and ecstasy he was giving you.

“Aren’t you a good girl for me?” he asked, slightly slapping your cheek to get a response

“Yes!” you screamed as he began to push your legs back, his cock pressing deeper inside of you, hitting your g-spot every time he rutted his hips inside of you. 

“Gonna cum” you moaned as he continued his brutal pace. 

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl?” he growled into your ear, chasing his own high. 

His hips continued to slam into you, his breathing ragged and wild. He couldn't get enough of you, couldn't get close enough. He needed you, needed to claim every part of you as his own.

Felix growled low in his throat as you screamed that you were close to cumming. The sound of your ecstasy only fueled his own need and desire for you. He wanted to bring you to the edge, to make you lose all control beneath him.

"Not yet," he growled in your ear. "You're not coming without me."

His lips moved back to your neck, kissing and biting their way down to your collarbone. His hips began to move faster, his breathing becoming more ragged as he continued to drive you towards the edge of ecstasy.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he whispered in your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I can feel it. I can feel how close you are for me. Your walls are clenching around me like a fucking vice, but you're not going to come yet, not until I say so." his pace is relentless and unceasing.

You continued to moan his name, like a fucking chant and he couldn't resist your desperate plea any longer. He could see how close you were to your release, how your body was tense and trembling beneath him. He loved seeing you so desperate for him.

"Come for me. Let go, sweetheart. Let me hear you cry out my name."

“Felix!” you screamed one last time before letting go.

He continued to move his hips through your climax, his body trembling and shaking with the effort. His pace became more irregular and erratic as he approached his own release. He could feel himself nearing the edge, could feel the pressure building within him.

"Sweetheart," he gasped, his voice thick with need and desire. "I'm...I'm going to come. I can't hold on much longer."

“Come inside, please come inside of me” you whined, your body becoming more and more overstimulated as he continued to rut into you. It was easy to reach your second orgasm, your walls clenching around his cock as Felix could feel his control slipping. His body was wracked with tremors and shivers as he neared his release. Your words only drove him closer to the edge, his body responding to your plea without hesitation.

"Yes," he gasped, his voice barely more than a guttural moan. 

His hips slammed into you with one final, rough thrust, his release crashing over him like a wave. He groaned your name, his arms wrapping around you tightly to keep you close as he lost himself in the ecstasy of his climax. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

“So baby, how about some green tea?” he giggled, pulling your body into him. 

“Just wanna stay like this” you whined as he kissed the top of your head, covering the two of you with the blanket.

"You're mine," he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. "All mine. No one else gets to have you, no one else gets to touch you, no one else gets to know you the way I do. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

[nordickies]

Sweden Headcanons

I compiled a list of big and small headcanons I like to implement in my work when writing Sweden's character! More may be added if I come up with them. Feel free to steal them in your own work

Read the whole list under the cut!

Physical Features

Sweden is one of the tallest nations at around 2,00 m / 6′ 7″. He has a heavy build with notable muscles on his upper body. Though, he gets bloated very easily, especially after a heavy meal, so his body definition varies a lot.

Sweden is physically in his early to mid-thirties.

As a teenager, Swe usually experienced nausea and dizziness from growing pains. Definitely didn't help with his already bad temper and moodiness.

Sweden has cold hands constantly.

He tans quite easily during summer. In his youth, he had visible sun freckles.

He's not as fit as people might think at first. His grip is firm, and he can lift. But make him run stairs, and he's out of breath. That is probably why you'll never catch him running - even in a hurry.

Swe has frown lines on his forehead and around his eyes, probably due to squinting so much before getting his glasses.

He has a small silver cross necklace, which he obtained from his long travels in his youth.

Personality

Sweden is stoic, but he's not that serious - even though he might appear to be so. He just has an unfortunate face, according to Denmark. Norway says Sweden is friendly; he just doesn't act like it. Swe has a playful side to him, and even he isn't above banter from time to time. He is even a bit sassy. And while he might be a man of a few words, he has a sense of comedic timing. He often manages to make his friends crack up in inappropriate situations, and people never believe them it was due to Sweden.

Sweden has an eye for quality. He's also a bit frugal and refuses to throw stuff away, especially if he could fix it with little effort or repurpose it for something else. For most of his life, he had to deal with limited resources anyway, so his thrifty tendencies continue to this day. People tease that Sweden prefers crisp bread (knäckebröd) because he's too frugal to bake fresh bread every day

He is known to be innovative! He'll ponder his head empty to devise a solution to a given topic, and sometimes, they can be pretty creative and unexpected. He has a lot of fantastical creativity, and his thinking process is a big mystery to everyone else.

He cherishes silence and personal space. Loud noises and massive crowds of people make him very uncomfortable, so he avoids situations like that beforehand.

Sweden takes things very literally at times, and he can take things to heart. He'll always go out of his way to do his best and put on the best show, down to a single detail. If someone requests a cake with flowers, he'll spend the entire night crafting marzipan daisies and placing them individually

Sweden could be described as somewhat of a control freak. He'll get highly anxious if he's not in control and making decisions - or kept in the dark about matters that concern him. He has always been self-driven, and he can become quite rowdy if he's forced to follow other's orders.

Sweden is a bit of a mother hen, taking care of people and providing for them at all times. Though sometimes, he takes this role a bit too seriously. Sweden has a tendency to get involved in other people's business and try to come up with solutions for their problems, which his neighbors don't always appreciate.

Because of his rational and calm nature, people often seek Sweden's advice and help. Well, at least people who don't have to deal with his unprompted advice constantly.

He has always struggled with being a bit selfish. Not that he lacks the skills to share or be empathetic, but he always seems to put himself first. People often need to adjust to Sweden's comfort and needs rather than the other way around.

He's definitely the most family-oriented out of the Nordics. He has always wanted to be a parent, even if others never really understood it. Even as a teen, he would look after the youngest members of his family, ensuring they were clothed and fed.

Even though he's not very sociable, he hates being alone for long periods of time. Since he has always lived with others, he wants life, color, and chatter in his home. That's why he has arranged a free "open door" policy in his house. His family (and adoptees) are welcome in his place at any time

But, even though Sweden is tolerant and welcoming, it sometimes might backfire on him if his visitors aren't too caring. Denmark and Finland are particularly good at this and leave the place messier than they found it. Meanwhile, Norway empties Sweden's fridge and pantry before he's on his way (which he just calls harrytur). Sweden is non-confrontational and rarely dares to bring it up, though.

He finds work-life balance extremely important. He takes his job seriously, but when the clock hits 4 p.m., he's already out of the door. This can annoy his overachieving coworkers sometimes, but this is a subject Sweden just won't give in. He is highly productive and a hard worker - it just happens strictly during office hours. He remembers to unwind by taking a week off at a cabin or simply having coffee breaks multiple times a day.

Swe sticks to schedules and usually shows up early to be on time. He's punctual and expects things to be done on time with efficiency. Swe has a personal calendar that he follows, and events, such as dinners, need to be planned in advance with him. He also follows a tight sleeping schedule.

Sweden is candid and answers others' questions bluntly. Interviews are a nightmare with him. Small talk is difficult with him, and he'll stay quiet if he has nothing to say. 

Sweden expects honesty. He wants to know if he has upset someone and, in return, wants to talk things out. Resentments, petty disagreements, and gossip annoy him greatly, especially if the other person expects him to recognize when he has done something wrong.

Sweden doesn't feel that awkward in social situations unless he can tell the other person is finding his silence uncomfortable. Swe becomes more shy and uneasy if he has to fake small talk. You'll get the most out of him when you bear his silent breaks.

Sweden can come off as nitpicky or even snobbish; he cares about the little details and, in true artistic fashion, can be a perfectionist sometimes. Whenever he's nervous, he starts focusing and fixing the tiniest of details in his work.

Sweden has a lot of confidence in himself and his abilities. Maybe, at times, a little bit too much, which makes him proud. Especially in his youth, he considered himself invincible and constantly overestimated his capabilities.

His tendency to be taciturn and not talk about his problems puts him at odds with people around him. Usually, the issues build up when he refuses to confront them. Combining this with the fact that he believes himself to be in the right - and solving issues with pure logic, it seems like he forgets to consider the emotional side of things. He can't understand why others don't see the world rationally like he does.

Hobbies

Sweden has a workshop in his house where he likes to go and work on DIY projects, make various crafts, or fix broken items. In there, he could spend hours pondering and trying to find solutions to problems - not only on broken appliances but his personal issues as well. Also, the workshop offers Swe a form of escapism. It's his domain, where he prefers to be alone (His little snickerboa, if you will)

Handicrafts allow him to express himself and carry out his wild creativity and imagination. He takes pride in his art; every item is made with love and thought. Besides making furniture, Swe is skilled in glass crafts. Sweden is also a skilled artist. Though it's more of a hidden talent. People never see him draw, but if you get him a pen and paper with a basic prompt, he will draw like a professional. He paints Christmas cards every year and sends them to other Nations.

Sweden is quite active and tries to get himself moving through everyday activities, such as house chores, biking, or even just taking the stairs. He likes going on long city hikes and can play a football or ice hockey match if asked to. But nowadays, he has begun to enjoy more relaxed sports, such as golf.

He loves cooking; Swe appreciates and values quality food. Perhaps he's not a culinary chef, but he can make any comfort homemade food if asked. Sweden is consistently in charge of the food in get-togethers and family gatherings. He's also a great baker but doesn't have time to focus on that hobby. Nevertheless, he always ensures at least a few types of cookies, buns, or other pastries are available. It's important to take a break occasionally and sit down for a cup of coffee.

Sweden enjoys a variety of music. He hasn't really mastered any instrument, but he loves singing group songs at events. He considers music a big part of his life, and he really enjoys musical events.

He is a plant mom with thriving houseplants all over his residence. Iceland is jealous of him because his own houseplants seem to always die as soon as he attains them. Sweden also has an impressive outdoor garden during the summer.

Sweden is obsessed with crime shows and literature; he's always in the process of reading the newest thriller books.

Lifestyle

His human name is Björn. His nickname "Nalle" (teddybear) can be used as a term of endearment - or annoyance, depending on the person and context. Though he has had multiple names throughout his life, such as Berwald.

Sweden is skilled in mental math, though not in a "superhuman" way. Sweden is an experienced merchant and builder who can solve basic math problems immediately in his head. He's definitely more talented mathematically rather than linguistically.

Sweden feels the most at peace when he's prepared for the future. Even on vacations, he'll fix his porch, paint the house, or do massive spring cleaning. On cabin weekends, he'll maintain the boat or drive the other Nordics crazy for using the lawnmower early in the morning

He's a recycling freak who takes the matter very seriously. He'll definitely let you know if you have done your recycling wrong and scold you for it

Despite his quiet and seemingly shy nature, Sweden likes hosting parties and events. He can even give a short speech if he's allowed to prepare for that beforehand. Swe doesn't go from table to table chatting with people. Instead, he'll ensure there are activities, games, music, and enough food and drinks for everyone.

Sweden has a tendency to socialize through activities like games or quizzes. People groan when Sweden has to bring yet another board game to a party, but that's just his way of ensuring people have something to do. And if he doesn't have a particular activity to participate in, he might just sit in silence the whole time!

Swe can handle booze very well, only becoming talkative. While he's reserved and quiet sober, he bubbles up immediately after a drink or two. Usually regretting his loud mouth the next day.

Swe has always had a hard time learning second languages, which is one of the reasons why he appears so quiet. When he can speak his native language, he's way more talkative. He often forgets words when talking in different languages, and that's when his insecurities and nervousness take over.

He speaks Swedish and will hesitantly admit that he understands Norwegian and some Danish just fine due to their long relationship and exposure to each other's languages. He speaks English and used to speak French and (Low) German. He also used to know Latin and Old Norse but has forgotten them both.

Swe thinks rules are rules, and in his household, candy can only be eaten on Saturdays.

Sweden has an inherent sense of style, perhaps due to his tendency to care about the little details. He wants his home and personal style to look nice and put together, and he spends a lot of time focusing on them.

Due to his big size, many spaces aren't made for him, especially abroad. He finds it embarrassing when other people notice this and try to offer him special treatment because of it. He hates to cause extra trouble.

He experiences "sunshine guilt" very often. If it's a beautiful day outside, Sweden can't sit inside without feeling guilty, like he's wasting his time. He will often tell people to go outside and appreciate the short summer that they get. And when the first rays of sunshine appear in spring, Swe might drop whatever he's doing and face the sun with his eyes closed - just taking it all in and immediately feeling better. He also starts having picnics and hanging out in outdoor cafes early in the year, regardless of weather or temperature.

Sweden has calmed down immensely from his youth to the point some consider he has gone soft, acting like an old man with no ambitions. But maybe nowadays, he puts in the effort to enjoy the things he values in life. And as a result, he's pretty content with how things are going for him.

[pomplalamoose]

Hiiiiii sorry to be back again, but I just love your stuff 😅 one more, then I promise I’ll shut up lol headcanons for how luke is in a relationship after that whole feelings drama/confession from the last ask?

Hello back, you are always welcome in my asks!!!🫶🏻 this turned out to be nothing but pure fluff, like, I'm not exaggerating. Hopefully you'll have a blast🤠

• like I mentioned in another ask: I think the romantic relationship between you and Luke would develop slowly

• after a lot of repressed feelings and misunderstandings he is very careful in how he approaches you

• under no circumstances does he want to hurt your feelings again

• so before you present yourselves as a couple or as "officially dating" to the outside world, there is a lot of back and forth

• not in a bad way though

• you have been friends for a long time and now, that your feelings are in the open, it's like you are getting to know each other in a whole new light

• suddenly Luke is endearingly shy around you

• you keep blushing and giggling like a teenager

• it's very funny to watch but you don't mind being the main entertainment of your friend group

• all that matters to you is to discover this newfound dynamic, to simply let it unfold

• Luke in particular really enjoys and welcomes this change of pace

• especially when compared to the stressful years that came before

• for once nobody is urging him to make hard decisions or rushing him along

• finally he can experience what others were able to long ago and what the war took from him: really falling in love for the first time

• together you figure out how you want your relationship to look like, what your respective love languages are, whether you like to go on dates or not, etc.

• as a quick and avid learner Luke soaks up all this new information like a sponge and does his best to immediately implement it in your daily life

• he's especially happy about being able to touch you without worrying you might catch on to his hidden feelings

• he loves to reach out for you whenever he can

• at the beginning only fleetingly to make sure you're not uncomfortable with it

• but slowly he grows bolder, basically buzzing with excitement whenever you are within the range of his arm

• he likes holding your hand

• he likes to hold just a finger of yours with one of his

• he likes playing with your clothes and hair

• he likes resting his hand on your knee, thigh, back, shoulder, arm, hand

• he likes brushing your hair out of your face and to tuck it behind your ears

• he likes to tuck you into his side

• he likes when you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder

• he likes kissing you

• he likes holding you when he falls asleep and after he wakes up

• just like before he loves spending his time in your presence

• even if it's just to watch you getting ready for the day or an event

• you can always ask him about your outfits and undoubtedly he will give you a nice and reflected answer

• sometimes he asks you to wear a certain dress because he thinks you look extra pretty in it

• (often he asks you to wear his clothes because he likes how cute and small they make you look)

• mesmerized by your hair, he likes to brush and braid it

• if he has the time he joins in on your self care routines; he thinks wearing a face mask and a fluffy bathrobe is hilarious

• you are allowed to practice your make up skills on his face

• he accompanies you on shopping sprees without complaining

• he picks out clothes for you to try on as well and he's over the moon if you like them

• he regularly takes you out on dates

• he likes when you take him out on dates

• he likes receiving flowers just as much as you do

• if you are insecure about your body, personality or abilities/lack there of he'll be very sad

• to him you are wonderful in every way and he always tries his hardest to make you see it too

• he's your biggest fan

• he's the first to support your ideas and plans, whatever they may be about

• he will make sure you know just how beautiful you are to him

• whatever you hate about your body, he loves

• he carries a list with him that he likes to dramatically unfold and read aloud when he catches you talking badly about yourself

• he never stops flirting even after you have been dating for a while

• he likes to lightly smack your ass when he's walking past or behind you on the stairs

• (he likes it when you smack his too but he won't admit to it)

• you can come to him with all your worries and problems and whatever it is you need in that moment, he will give

• he'll make you laugh

• he'll hold you

• he'll simply listen

• he'll talk shit with you about anyone if it makes you feel better

• he definitely gets invested in gossip and secretly enjoys it when you keep him updated

• when you can't spend your time together, he'll make sure to check in on you with the Force

• since he doesn't really care for decoration he lets you go off the rails with it, he's just happy to be there

• he's very emotionally intelligent and not ashamed to cry

• he communicates like a champ

• he's the opposite of toxic masculinity, he's HEALTHY masculinity

• Luke Skywalker is a sweetheart

[xtruss]

Sicily Sold Homes For One Euro. This Is What Happened Next.

For more than a decade, Sicily has been trying to revive its villages by selling Vacant Houses. Writer Lisa Abend heads to the largest Island in the Mediterranean to see how life has changed.

— By Lisa Abend | April 30, 2024

Mussomeli is roughly 60 miles from Palermo. Photo by Julia Nimke

Like any small town that isn’t yours, Sambuca di Sicilia, located about an hour’s drive south of the Sicilian capital, Palermo, feels a little intimidating at first. Stroll its perimeter on a late afternoon in winter, when the sun sets the buildings alight, and eyes follow you. Order the town’s signature minni di virgini—breast-shaped cakes filled with cream, chocolate chips, and squash jam—and a hush silences the chatter in the local bakery. It’s not unfriendly, this exaggerated alertness, but it does make you, the visitor, feel a bit self-conscious.

By the time I walk into a small restaurant that first evening seeking dinner, my self-consciousness has reached an uncomfortable peak. The restaurant’s only other guests, a middle-aged couple, fall quiet as I make my way to a table. After the waiter and I stumble through my order, impeded by his poor English and my worse Italian, I pull out a book to hide my awkwardness while I wait for the food. But when the first course arrives—a heap of ocher-tinted pasta topped with crimson shrimp and shards of pistachios—I am so clearly delighted by the dish that the waiter then decides we are friends. He introduces himself by name, Giovanni, and when two women with their children enter the restaurant, he seats them next to me and introduces them as well. “La famiglia,” he says—his own, and that of the chef, who, stepping out from the kitchen to kiss his wife, also comes over to greet me.

Two hours later, I walk out into the night air, aloft on a wave of bonhomie and sturdy Sicilian wine. Oh yes, I think to myself. I could live here.

I’m not the only person to arrive at that revelation. In fact, I had come to Sicily to investigate a program that has attracted thousands with the same notion. A program that allows people, although they may not have the financial wherewithal to go full-bore Tuscan-villa-with-frescoed-ceilings-and-private-vineyard, to nevertheless live a different version of the dream. A program that promises them a house for a single euro.

About the size of New Hampshire, Sicily has 4.8 million residents. Photos by Julia Nimke

Since the 19th century, large numbers of villagers in the poorer parts of Italy have migrated to more prosperous regions and countries. The migration continues; in some places, populations have shrunk so dramatically that there are no longer enough patients to keep the local doctor in business, or enough children to fill the school. Young people who moved away to study or work didn’t want to return, and when their parents died, the family homes stood empty, sometimes for decades. Around 2010, the village of Salemi in western Sicily was one of the first towns to come up with an idea: What if you could fill them again by offering the properties for sale at a ridiculously low price?

I wasn’t in the market for a house, one euro or otherwise. But I wanted to know if the program worked. Though the rumors I’d heard about driving in Sicily gave me pause—highways that suddenly turn into rutted cow paths; drivers whose chosen passing method involves achieving the closest possible proximity to the fender of the car in front of them—I decided to set out in a rental car through villages in various stages of implementing the initiative. Were once-sepulchral towns reinvigorated by newcomers eager to put down roots? Were the new residents integrating into small-town life, or was an influx of new blood bringing unintended side effects? And did a town that drew enough newcomers lose the qualities that had attracted said newcomers in the first place?

From left: The population of Sambuca di Sicilia has declined because of a low birth rate, but the town gained media attention after The Sopranos actress Lorraine Bracco bought a home there; The Valley of the Temples has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997. Photos by Julia Nimke

The morning after my dinner in Sambuca di Sicilia, I leave my home base to see my first one-euro house. Before that, I stop in the Valley of the Temples. Located in a national park, the valley preserves the remains of a Greek colony founded in the 6th century B.C.E. on land inhabited by the indigenous Sicani. A couple of millennia later, the original temples to Hercules and Hera survive, but so does evidence of Carthaginian rampage and Roman reconstruction. Those peoples would in time be followed by Vandals from northern Europe and Muslims from Africa, to say nothing of the French and Spanish. Standing there, looking at the gold-colored columns of once-grand temples set against the sparkling sea and flowering almond trees, time seemed to bend. Outsiders, I realize, have been making their homes here for a long time.

They’ve also been leaving. When I arrive in Cammarata, a steep jumble of a village whose mountains are dusted with snow, I can feel an absence. In the winter sunshine, it’s beautiful, but it’s also empty. In the 15 minutes I spend standing in front of a very sleepy-looking town hall, where I’ve arranged to meet architect Martina Giracello, not one person passes by.

The members of StreetTo want to rejuvenate Cammarata. Photo by Julia Nimke

Finally, Giracello arrives, her corkscrew curls bobbing, and explains the silence. “People here wanted to live in larger, more modern apartments,” she says. Many moved to neighboring San Giovanni Gemini, about half a mile away, where the gentler topography allows for larger buildings and better conveniences. Now, Giracello tells me, “the one real estate agency in the area doesn’t even handle houses in the historic center.”

Like other young people from the region, Giracello and her boyfriend, Gianluca, moved away for university and to start their professional careers. But as they approached the end of their 20s, they returned to Cammarata, yearning for a quieter life. They also wanted, however, some kind of cultural scene, and neighbors their own age. “We studied other towns with one-euro programs, saw that for a lot of buyers, once they are there, the house is just a vacation home, and they don’t have a relation to the people there,” she tells me. “We wanted to do something different. We wanted to create a community.”

“As We Slowly Make Our Way Up Cammarata’s Steep Streets, The Silence Gives Way To The Sound Of Hammers And Saws. ‘Hear That?’ Giracello Asks. ‘It’s Working.’”

They banded together with other professionals to form a volunteer association called StreetTo, which convinces the owners of abandoned properties to sell, then helps foreigners find their houses and navigate the inspections, paperwork, and renovations that follow. And, in the hopes of forging community, they also organize exhibitions, concerts, and gatherings for townspeople old and new. Driven by their desire to revive the Cammarata they love, StreetTo’s members offer these services free of charge. (“At the moment, it is a project geared toward foreigners, but what we want is to also bring Cammarata’s citizens back, just as Gianluca and I have come back,” Giracello says.)

It’s not pure altruism, though. Their town gets something in the way of revitalization. As we slowly make our way up Cammarata’s steep streets, the silence gives way to the sound of hammers and saws. “Hear that?” Giracello asks. “It’s working.”

Panting from the climb, we reach the first property, where Giracello introduces me to the reality of what one euro buys you: not much. The home, more vertically challenged shed than house, has what real estate ads might call “significant structural issues” and what I might call “a massive hole in the roof.”

For an extravagance like a ceiling, Giracello says, you’ll need to spend a bit more. We press on to another house. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she mentions its price—just over $10,000. The tall, narrow home is built, like many older Sicilian dwellings, with a single room per floor, its stairwell is carpeted in debris, and the battered sink and laminate countertops make it look like the kitchen was outfitted sometime around World War II. But the floor is adorned with beautiful geometric tiles, and a view of the valley spills through the windows. “We try to find houses in not really good condition,” Giracello says. “Because the purpose of the project is to help the town get better.”

StreetTo has helped negotiate the sale of 18 houses so far, but contract negotiations and renovations are still in progress, and none of the buyers have been able to move into their homes yet. But Giracello is confident it won’t be long before her village swells with new life. She pulls out her phone to show me a video.

“When a German nurse and her husband bought a place, a local couple were so happy to see new people that they held a dinner for them, and invited us,” she says. “Even though the Germans didn’t speak Italian and the Italians didn’t speak German, now they are all friends.” She pauses. “We are all friends.”

Today a church and monastery, Santa Caterina d’Alessandria was home to nuns from 1311 to 2014. Photo by Julia Nimke

My next stop is Mussomeli, located nearly in the center of the island. Unlike many Sicilian towns, which drape themselves seductively across a ridge, Mussomeli is all about the vertical. On the morning I approach, the craggy volcanic outcroppings that rise from the valley below have trapped pools of mist, making the town appear to be floating on clouds. It feels like entering Middle Earth.

The illusion doesn’t last: With a population of nearly 11,000 people, Mussomeli is large enough to support a Carrefour supermarket and even a mini traffic jam. But as I push on to the town’s core, the fantasy returns. Mussomeli’s heart holds ancient churches, tiny squares where kids play ball, and views from its tangled streets of that mystical valley and a hilltop with the ruins of a 14th-century castle.

Streets so tangled, in fact, that I get lost, and ask for directions in a dark, tiny bakery selling nothing but focaccia. I pay for an oily square, and ask the elderly man behind the counter what he thinks about the foreigners moving to town. “There aren’t so many here now,” he says. “But in summer they buy a lot of focaccia.”

Seems a fair trade. Mussomeli doesn’t cater to tourism, but between its services and charm, more than 200 inexpensive homes have been bought by foreigners in the past few years. Australian Danny McCubbin owns one of them. Ready for a quieter life after 17 years of working in London for the chef Jamie Oliver, McCubbin was recruited by producers late in 2019 for a television show that planned to follow people on their one-euro adventures in Mussomeli. The pandemic intervened and the show was never finished, but McCubbin had found his purpose. By the end of 2020, he had decided to move permanently to Mussomeli and turn his home into a community kitchen to help people with inadequate access to food.

From left: The Good Kitchen rescues surplus food from supermarkets to provide for people in need; Australian Danny McCubbin moved to Mussomeli in 2020. Photos by Julia Nimke

After I make several wrong turns, I find McCubbin, clearing dishes from a long, communal table. He’d just served lunch to local residents and Ukrainian children welcomed by the town after fleeing the war. These days, the Good Kitchen also supplies weekly meals for the elderly and has taught some of Mussomeli’s youth to cook. A clutch of older men use the space as an afternoon hangout, and there’s also a free Sunday afternoon lunch. (The only requirement for those with means is that they bring something to share.) Not long ago, Mussomeli’s mayor told McCubbin that he had planted a seed, and that more in Mussomeli were now thinking about social projects. “My whole way of living is so simple and joyful now,” McCubbin says. “I don’t know where else I could have done this.”

Rubia Andrade Daniels has also adjusted her expectations. One of the earliest buyers in Mussomeli, she fell in love with a vibe that reminds her of the Brazil where she was born and spent her childhood, but that also seems open to the kind of diversity she’s found in California, where she has lived for the past 30 years. “For the first few days, I couldn’t figure out why people here were being so nice to me,” she says with a laugh. “Then I realized they’re like that to everyone.”

Andrade Daniels, who works for a renewable energy company, loved the town so much she purchased three one-euro houses on her first visit in 2019. Four years later, her enthusiasm remains undimmed, but her timetable has shifted: The kitchen in the house where she plans on living part time once she retires wasn’t finished until August 2023, and progress on the other two—an art gallery and a wellness center—has been pushed to an undetermined future, in part due to the pandemic and the delays in its wake. “You can’t have American expectations,” she says. “Here, things take the time they take.”

I Think About That Pace each day when I return to my base in Sambuca di Sicilia. There, too, there’s been such demand for the listed houses that one euro is no longer the final sale cost but rather the opening bid in an auction that could see prices rise into the thousands. Even then, the campaign was so popular that the municipality launched a second round in 2021, with an increase in the starting price—to two euros.

Margherita Licata, who has been summering in Sambuca since childhood and eventually settled here full time about 20 years ago, says that “99 percent” of Sambucans welcome the newcomers. The other 1 percent? “They worry they have been invaded by Americans,” says Licata, who works for a real estate agency in town. “If Sambuca one day has a thousand outsiders living here, of course it will change our lives. But it will maybe mean the young [people] can find a job and not go somewhere else. If we want that change, we must accept other changes too.”

Of course, it’s possible that Sambuca could become transfigured by take-out coffee joints and big-box stores and other supposed comforts that the town’s new residents like. Already, some Americans have complained about the local teenagers who cruise the streets on their motorbikes at night. And imported class divisions are also emerging: Among the more free-spirited DIYers who have purchased homes, rumors circulate that some of the wealthier buyers want to build an exclusive, members-only swimming pool.

From left: Margherita Licata has lived in Sambuca for roughly 20 years; Pasticceria Enrico Pendola is one of few bakeries in the small town. Photos by Julia Nimke

But for now, there’s little evidence of a non-Sicilian presence in Sambuca, and it remains difficult to find anyone who speaks English. What I did find was an archaeology museum where, after I inquired if it was open, a woman rushed out, turned on the lights, and marched me at breakneck speed through the antiquities on display while barking descriptions of them at me in Italian. I also found a market that popped up alongside the traffic circle where the fishmonger told me how to cook the sardines I bought from the back of his van, as well as a café whose arancini made me finally understand why anyone would want to eat fried balls of rice, and where the elderly man who glared at me as I drank my breakfast cappuccino turned out not to be annoyed with the foreigner invading his morning sanctuary, but just waiting for the opportunity to ask me if I knew his cousins in New Jersey.

I’d arrived in Sicily wondering if the one-euro initiative would ruin the towns that adopted it, replacing their traditional culture with more consumerist ones and destroying their lifestyle and easy sociability. And when that turned out not to be the case, I also wondered if it wasn’t simply a matter of time: Perhaps the pandemic had slowed an already slower way of doing business, and the reckoning would still surely come.

But as I sat again in that same restaurant from the first night, it seemed to me that Sicily would be just fine. Maybe the slower pace was not a flaw that would eventually be overcome, but instead a feature that would ensure Sicily remains alluringly and unequivocally itself. After all, I thought, as I remembered the

Valley of the Temples, different peoples have been arriving on these shores for millennia. They may leave an imprint; they may shape the culture. But it’s clear that a distinctively Sicilian spirit still dominates.

From left: Mussomeli is one of the most popular towns in Sicily for one-euro home programs; Sambuca di Sicilia was a prominent trading hub centuries ago. Photos by Julia Nimke

And so, just before my departure from the island, I went to visit Margherita Licata again, but this time for reasons slightly more personal. Because I had seen enough one-euro homes to know that my powers of imagination were no match for their state of decrepitude, we skipped right to a “premium” home. As soon as she pushed open the doors to the arched courtyard, I was entranced. The rooms were rundown and furnished with old-fashioned chandeliers and faded wallpaper. But they were also large and bright, with intact walls and floors covered with gorgeous patterned tiles. Downstairs, there was an attached space that would make a perfect rental apartment. Upstairs, two rooftop terraces offered views of the town center in one direction, and a lake in the other.

“Fifty thousand euros,” Licata told me with a wink. “But that’s just what the owner’s asking.”

The money in my bank account had not magically grown during my time in Sicily. But my imagination must have. Because in that moment, it all seemed possible.

— Lisa Abend is a Journalist based in Madrid and the Author of The Sorcerer’s Apprentices: A Season in the Kitchen at Ferran Adrià's elBulli. She is also a Contributing Writer at AFAR and Correspondent for Time magazine.

[fadingdestinygalaxy]

Here are some tips that I have discovered that are beneficial and healthy ways to cope with your mental illness in order to feel better. I understand it is very difficult to cope with, but here are some things that are helping me currently. (I am still learning healthy coping mechanisms myself, and I am in the process of beginning medication and therapy again, so by no means am I a saint or a know it all when it comes to this, and I realize everyone is different, and what may be right for me may not be right for someone else.)

*When you are having debilitating symptoms, or bothersome symptoms/behaviors that affect your day to day life, relationships with others, employment, etc. Here is what I believe that you should do.

1.) Actively seek out a therapist, psychiatrist, (or nurse practitioner) and seriously consider medication and therapy if you feel that your symptoms and behaviors are negatively affecting your daily life, relationships with others, your employment, and the relationship with yourself. The quicker you seek treatment, the quicker you will begin to learn how to cope with your symptoms and learn how to replace unhealthy destructive coping methods with healthy ones, as well as taking your medication as prescribed.

2.) Even though it is difficult to calm down, and relax, do your best to grab some paper and write down how you are feeling. It can give your brain a mind dump, and try not to be judgemental with your thoughts at first. You don't even have to look at them at first if you are too uncomfortable with your thoughts. If need be write them down, and then try to occupy your mind with something else, like a TV show. If this happens, please refer to your therapist, and he or she will help you address those thoughts in a safe, structured setting. The words or thoughts don't have to make sense, be upbeat, or sound pretty. Journaling is a way of getting out those thoughts, no matter how negative or scary they may sound.

3.) If your symptoms are so severe that you cannot be alone, and you are planning to hurt yourself, or others, or are thinking suicidal thoughts, or planning suicide, PLEASE call 911 immediately and get yourself checked in to a mental hospital. It sounds scary as fuck, but you need to protect yourself. I myself have been in a mental hospital for a week. That is the safest place you can be, until your doctor can get you stable enough to get back into society.

4.) Invest in some Dr. Teals bubble bath or soaking solution Epsom salt. I highly recommend the Calm Your Mind one. Or the Soothe and Sleep one with Lavender. It does help. ❤️

5.) If you have animals, hold them and pet them. It is scientifically proven that pets help reduce anxiety and stress. I know I love holding my kitty. ❤️

6.) Phone someone you can trust and feel safe with, but don't get on the phone with them and catastrophize your issues and make a habit of crying wolf everytime something negative effects you. Simply open up to them about how your day is going, and try to keep the conversation lighthearted, and try to remain as positive as you can, despite all the bullshit going on with you. Leave the complex issues, symptoms and behaviors you are experiencing to a licensed and trained professional. They went to school and are employed and licensed to give professional advice and show you how to implement healthy structure and habits in your life, not your family, your boyfriend, husband, or your friends. It may be tempting to let it all out to someone like an avalanche, but that is not a tactful or healthy way of dealing with your issues. If you let all of your issues, behaviors, anxiety, etc out on someone other than your therapist, and doctor, it will burden and overwhelm them with your issues and it will become an unintentional habit, to where all you talk about with them is your issues and insecurities, and that is not what friends or family is for. Friends and family are there to support your mental health and growth, not be a promoter of your vicious cycle of unhealthy and destructive behaviors be it intentional or unintentional. There is a difference between seeking support, and seeking rescuing. You don't need to be rescued by someone, and your friends, family, employer, etc are not in your life to be a toxic filter that you spew your issues to all the time, because it will inevitably push them away from you and you will lose that valued friendship or relationship with that person or people. You may feel like you are at your wits end and have a sense of impending doom all the time, but the best way to deal with those issues is with a TRAINED AND LICENSED professional that you can trust, and that is right for you. It may take multiple therapists and doctors you may have to go through before you find the right one, but don't give up, getting started on the healing journey is a process and it takes time, patience and effort.

7.) Talk to your therapist about learning how and when to address your issues with yourself or someone else.. And learn how to set some boundaries with yourself and others. Learn how to keep certain things private that you normally unintentionally allow yourself to share with everyone in your life. Not everyone needs to know your goddamn business, for a multitude of reasons. Not everyone is going to hear you out, and they might make assumptions of you based on your behavior and what you tell them. They may judge you, condemn your behavior, etc. and may not have your best interest at heart. They will become overwhelmed with your issues and they will begin to see it as a toxic behavior that you may or may not be intentionally rubbing off on them. There is a time and place and correct way of addressing your issues, so please make sure that you choose carefully about how and when you open up to someone about how your feeling. Again, I highly recommend divulging your issues solely to your therapist. That is what they are there for.

8.) Analyze your behavior and symptoms that you are exhibiting. Begin to take control, responsibility, and accountability of your issues with yourself. You are in the driver's seat of your life, no one else. Only you can make the change for the better or worse. Remember that your behaviors and actions not only affect you, but everyone around you. So remember that if you want to do better and improve your quality of life in a healthy way, you have to make the effort to implement change in order to heal and grow. Don't give up.

Thank you.

*****I am not a licensed professional. These are only tips and advice.

[erenvs3000f24]

Blog #3: The Role of Privilege in Nature Interpretation

Privilege is something that impacts everyone in different ways every single day. I would define privilege as undeserved advantages that some people or groups have based on their background, like their socioeconomic status, race, gender, or other social identities. Having open discussions about privilege is a vital step toward creating an environment where everyone feels comfortable expressing themselves. I’ve noticed others addressing this, and I want to do the same. As a straight, white, middle-class woman, I recognize that I’ve had various privileges throughout my life. While this acknowledgement can sometimes feel uncomfortable, it is a necessary part of the conversation. This week’s chapter allowed me to learn more about my privilege, and prompted me to think about ways we can make nature interpretation more accessible to diverse audiences.

In nature interpretation, we can see privilege in ways that impact who feels welcome and included in these spaces. These advantages may not be obvious, but they are present. Firstly, access to these natural interpretive areas can be a privilege. Some may take the ability to get to these sites for granted, but those that come from low income backgrounds may lack the resources to participate in the outdoor activities, or even travel to these places to begin with. Additionally, economic status can also influence the educational opportunities some may have compared to others. Those from higher socioeconomic standings typically have better access to environmental education and outdoor experiences, making them feel more comfortable and connected to nature. From the chapter, I love the idea of providing transportation for lower-income communities, or bringing interpretation directly to them to try and reduce economic barriers. Implementing these ideas would take some planning, but it could significantly enhance the inclusivity in interpretation.

Next, representation is a crucial aspect of privilege found in nature interpretation. If the media (ie. photos, promotional videos, etc.), literature, and interpretive programs mainly show individuals from specific backgrounds, it can alienate those from minority backgrounds, making them feel as though they don’t “fit the mould.” This lack of representation may also discourage them from engaging with nature and participating in outdoor activities. By having a variety of voices, experiences, and backgrounds, we can create a more relatable and welcoming environment that encourages everyone to connect with nature.

A final example of how privilege plays a role in nature interpretation is related to individuals with disabilities. For those without disabilities, accessing nature can be pretty easy and straightforward, but for people of all ages with sensory, mobility, or cognitive challenges, it may be difficult, and could lead them to feel excluded from the environment. For instance, many nature parks and trails lack accommodations such as wheelchair-friendly pathways, audio guides or printed text and closed captioning. Implementing these types of accessibility features can help them feel included and integrated into the community, boost their self- esteem, encourage independence, and feel respected throughout their interpretive journey.

As a nature interpreter, my goal is to create an environment where everyone feels comfortable, excited, and inspired to connect with the natural world. I believe every individual, regardless of their background or abilities, deserves the equal opportunity to appreciate the beauty of our surroundings and explore the “Why?” and “How?” of these spaces. I think it’s essential to create a sense of wonder and responsibility, so everyone can engage deeply with nature to hopefully become environmental stewards and advocates for its preservation.

[claudiarying]

042420

As most people are working and studying from home right now, I wanted to share some concrete, implementable ways you can help yourself feel better. Though I believe productivity and quantity of work done (or lack thereof) doesn’t/shouldn’t translate into your self-worth and how you view yourself, when you get work done, you actually do feel better in your own body. 

By the way, it’s the first time I’m formatting a tips/guide post like this, so I apologize that I couldn’t be more concise.

I’ve spoken to a licensed professional counsellor as well as to some professionals who have been working from home for a long time, and some of the advice above is from them. I’m also sharing from my own experience as someone who used to be very productive and an (ex-)overachiever, and still attach a lot of my self-worth to grades and other tangible accomplishments. I hope these slides can help you. In case it’s hard to read, I’ve included it (reworded) in text form if you’d like to read more. 

SMART Goals

SMART stands for specific, measurable, attainable, relevant and time-based. It’s what it sounds like: a smart goal. Some people insist on having a system that works for you, but goal-setting has been a core part of how I’ve personally studied and I think if you’re not a goal-based person, you might just have been setting up goals that don’t work for you (everyone is unique in how we work so don’t take my words as the only truth - it is just a convention!) Your goals should be realistic and should be attainable and I like to set goals every day to keep you accountable and keep you on track. 

RAIN Method

The RAIN method is a mindfulness technique. It stands for recognizing, allowing, inquiring and non-identification/nurturing. This mindfulness technique works as a reset. When you’re feeling just stuck and like you can’t bring yourself to do anything, I suggest doing some mindful practices (meditation, if that’s up to your speed). Recognize your body’s feelings. Are you tense? Are your shoulders uncomfortable? Are you anxious? Allow yourself to feel all of this for a moment. Don’t make a reason for yourself (e.g. I’m anxious because I’m this, I have to do that, it will become like this...). Don’t think deeply for now and just feel. Then, inquire your body, ask your body what it needs. Your body will need very reality-based things and not fear-based one. Maybe it’s water, maybe it’s sleep. Nurture your needs. You can non-identify with your issues for just a moment. Take your own hand. Be your own friend. Take care of yourself with love and kindness. Then proceed. 

Endgame

This means to keep in mind what your end goal is. Why are you doing what you’re doing? Be intentional. Is it to be happy? Great. Is it to escape school? Awesome. Keep your end goal in mind. Stay passionate about it. 

Attitude

Be confident, be positive. Trust in your own capabilities and believe in where your journey is taking you. Keep an open mind to what you’re doing, believe that you can actually accomplish what you’ve set out to do. We all fall into a pit of disparity, self-doubt and general cynicism. Trust me. But you need to have an attitude that can help you feel better instead of make you suffer endlessly, even if the latter option is easier. People say it all the time and it’s so pretentious, but try to have a good attitude about things. You can be cynical and skeptical but I think it’s better to try to have an edge of optimism.

Stopping points

Another mindfulness thing but also a literal thing. Set your own deadlines (T in SMART stands for time-based, remember?) If you tell yourself “I’ll stop/rest at 5 p.m.” it hopefully becomes more real for you and more urgent for you to do something. Try not to self-sabotage these deadlines. Be empowered and take control over how you live and react to things (this personally helps me with self-sabotaging due to fear over lack of instant gratification and failure). But when it becomes very hard, know when to step back. Take intentional breaks where you process what you need (RAIN technique). Stopping also means rethinking why you’re doing things (endgame) or just stopping everything and just breathe. The bar is set at surviving. Don’t take anything too seriously. It’s life. Live. If you stop taking certain things that seriously, it doesn’t mean you’re irresponsible - it means you’re just living. Live to enjoy and you will enjoy your life better and end up improving yourself. Anyway, I wanted to end on this note because sometimes we glorify productivity and work. You can stop. It doesn’t have to be so serious. Right now, we just need to live. 

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 2: Adventures in Space Babysitting

Link to Chpt. 1, Chpt. 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild swearing, sexual arousal, references to sexual relationships, canonical violence

Word Count:~5600

Summary: Caretaker reader is settling into her job and she realizes she has a crush on Mando. Some fluff, action, and little angst in this chapter.

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chpt. 2! I haven’t really written anything with angst before so I hope you think that part went okay. Thanks for reading!

The little green body launches itself up onto your bed yet again waking you in the early hours of the morning. The child snuggles up close to your chest and you can’t help but rub his little back with soothing motions. You have tried to get the child on a routine these past few weeks, and this seems to be the one pattern he’s most pleased to follow every day. The first time he showed up in your bed you thought Mando had placed him there as a subtle hint that it was your turn to be on child duty. However, when you heard Mando frantically looking for the toddler that first morning, you knew the little one had managed to sneak his way over to you all on his own. Neither you nor Mando know much about the child’s life before Mando rescued him, but it seems to you that it must have been difficult, because he appears to be starved for affection and he seeks it out every chance he gets. You’ve always been a cuddler yourself though so you are happy to oblige him and honestly although it means you don’t get to sleep as much as you used to, you love your early morning snuggles with him. Besides, it helps keep your mind off how much you’d like to snuggle Mando.

This silly crush on Mando has hit you out of nowhere and you feel like a complete fool for even acknowledging it. You suppose it can’t be helped to a certain extent, as he has to be hands down the nicest man in the entire galaxy, implausible as it may seem. He’s a gun-for-hire, rough and tough bounty hunter, covered in armor and weapons, and yet he has been nothing but thoughtful and respectful towards you. When you first spoke to him about establishing a better schedule for the child and working on some developmental milestones, he listened carefully and encouraged you to do what you felt was best. Other men you’ve known in the past would have questioned your recommendations or only half-listened to you dismissively. But Mando asked thoughtful questions that showed you he valued your opinions and then he was sure to comment on how well things were going after you began implementing the changes. You couldn’t remember the last time an employer gave you a compliment on your work, and it was just nice.

Then there was the first time he brought back a bounty to the ship. He’d been gone for about two days and when he returned, he was dragging a large alien man behind him. While you tried not to be overly curious, you couldn’t help but watch him as he manhandled the guy into the carbonite freezer. You were impressed with his strength, but it also made you feel a little bit wary as he next strode over towards you and the child. Your cautiousness melted away quickly though as Mando placed a bag of berries on the crate sitting next to you, mentioning that he noticed how much you seemed to enjoy them and thought you’d like to have some more. The thought of him noticing such a detail and then taking the time to stop and buy the berries for you made you want to swoon. You told yourself you were being ridiculous and that it was clearly just an overreaction to someone finally being nice to you.

The child is starting to get squirmy and you know that means he’ll be looking for breakfast soon. You listen carefully for Mando and realize that he must either be still asleep or up in the cockpit. Either way, you doubt he’s eaten any breakfast yet as he seems to prefer your cooking over his own. You toss back your covers and get yourself ready for the day. You decide to make eggs this morning, the little one’s favorite food that isn’t sugar-based. You are just finishing cutting up some fruit to go with the eggs, when you hear Mando’s boots behind you.

“MMM, smells good.” He says sounding still a bit sleepy. “I’m starving.”

You turn around with a plate all ready for him and a cup of caf, telling him “Lucky for you, I knew you would be.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I survived without you,” Mando replies. Your heart sings at his words and you quickly turn back to the food so he can’t see the goofy smile breaking out on your face.

“Mostly on ration bars it seems.” You noticed he had quite the stash of them when you were first on board. Fortunately, you’ve convinced him to try to get a greater variety of food whenever possible.

“Well, my taste buds thank you too.” He carries his breakfast into his bunk where he can eat in privacy. At first, you felt sad for him always having to eat by himself, but you realize he must be so used to it that it probably doesn’t bother him. Nonetheless, it hasn’t stopped you from thinking up ideas for a shared meal sometime in the future, maybe when he knows you better and his trust in you is stronger.

After breakfast, you’re getting the child ready for a day out on the town. Mando is dropping off several bounties today which means you’ll be able to stretch your legs off the ship and visit the market in Batuu. As the ship lands, Mando is already back in the hull quickly reviewing all of the safety protocols for leaving the ship. He does this each time and at first it was rather annoying, it’s not like you’re an idiot, but then you realized he does it because he simply cares that much about the child’s and your wellbeing. While his protectiveness towards the child is completely logical, you still can’t get over how much it extends to you too. You’ve been responsible for yourself for so long; it never occurred to you that another adult would care so much about protecting you.

“Before I forget, I found a holster for you.” Mando is holding out a leather belt for you. “You shouldn’t keep the blaster in a bag; you can’t get to it fast enough.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say politely, although you’re hoping that just once he’ll fail to remind you to take the blaster along. You know he said you have to take it with you every time you leave the ship, but you still feel uncomfortable carrying it around. At least when you could shove it into your bag, you could pretend you didn’t have it, but now, it’ll be right there on your hip, much harder to ignore. Your fingers fumble with buckling the holster; knowing that he’s watching you intently makes you nervous. Mando steps closer to help you, softly brushing your hands away. Maker, he’s so close to you and each time his hands brush against your waist as he secures the holster you need to remind yourself to breathe.

“There you go.” Mando finishes but lets his hand linger for a moment on your hip. You feel his thumb brush back and forth just a bit before he sharply pulls away as if realizing what he was doing. You slip the blaster into the new holster, and he gives you a nod, “Looks good.”

You feel your face heat up as you realize he’s staring at your hips and you distract yourself by making sure the child is ready to go, “Ready to explore?” you ask him, and you hear a happy coo in response from the pram.

You follow Mando down the ramp of the ship, glad to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Shopping for supplies never seemed like anything interesting in the past, but now that you get to visit different markets on new worlds you’ve never seen before, each little shopping trip feels like a new experience. The colorful stalls filled with all types of wares beckon you to explore and discover some exotic fruit or an old book that you might never see anywhere else.

Oh, speaking of books, “I thought I might try to find a few children’s books for the child, if that’s ok?” you ask Mando.

“Are you trying to teach him to read? Is he ready for that?” Mando sounds curious, but not skeptical in any way.

“No, not yet, but I know he likes hearing stories,” you explain, “and I’m not sure how much more I can keep inventing ones to tell him.”

“Have you just been making those stories up yourself?” He nods in approval, seemingly impressed. “You have a good imagination.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” You’re caught off guard there for a moment, as you hadn’t realized he’d paid much attention to the stories you tell the little one.

“Yeah, I liked the one you told him about the magic frog. It was funny.” He surprises you again. Not only was he listening, he remembers the silly story you made up, and he liked it.

“Thanks,” you say again, stunned by his comment, but it’s his next suggestion that totally floors you.

“You should write them down, make your own book.”

“Make my own book?” The idea would never have occurred to you.

“Why not? Maybe you can even get the kid to draw pictures for it. You can get him some coloring pencils too.” Mando turns and hands you some extra credits. “I need to take care of some business, now, but you two will be safe here. Meet me by the fountain in 30 minutes. Do not be late.” He punctuates that last statement with a point of his index finger and then turns to go.

You watch him head towards a cantina and then just stare down at the credits in your palm. How is he so nice but then also kind of scary? And why does it make you ‘feel’ things? You shake your head at your own silliness and then look down at the little guy and say, “Well, let’s go find you something to color with.”

Perusing the stalls, you find plenty of items to fill up your bags and empty your wallet. You discover a great notebook with plenty of space for writing and pictures. The more you think of the idea of creating your own little book with the child, the more excited you get. You find a few children’s books too, so that you can be sure to keep the little one entertained when he’s tired of drawing. Cognizant of the time, you start to head to the fountain in the center of the market, Mando’s designated meeting spot, when you smell a delectable aroma. The baby smells it too and immediately begins whining and reaching out his little hands. You head to the source of the scent to see several types of kebabs at a nearby stand. You still have some credits and are preparing to order but the little one is too impatient and before you know it, two kebabs are floating to the pram.

“Hey! You have to pay for those!” The man behind the stand yells at you.

“I was; I mean I am,” you quickly tell him, “I’m sorry, he’s just so sneaky and fast sometimes.” You offer him a smile, hoping to smooth things over. What’s more, you pray the man thinks the child just grabbed the food and that he didn’t notice anything magical about it. “How much are they?”

The man looks you over for a moment and then his demeanor changes, “Well, for you, mama, I’m sure we can work out a little deal.” He leers at you.

“That’s ok,” you say uncomfortable at the look in his eye, and you let your smile drop from your face, “I’ll just pay the regular price.”

“Ah, c’mon, there’s nothing like a little discount among friends.” He steps out from behind his stall to stand right in front of you. He reaches out and brushes a hand down your arm, “You’d like to be my friend, wouldn’t you?”

You take a step back and say, “I’d just like to pay you for the food.”

“We can call it even, if you give me a little kiss.” This gross creep moves closer to you again, this time leaning down.

“I have credits.” You tell him, attempting to sound firm while you start to step back again, but he anticipates your move and reaches out to grab your wrist pulling you up against his body. You push on his chest, trying to pull away when you hear the sound of a blaster priming and then a raspy modulated voice says, “Let her go.”

The man drops your arm instantly and you can finally back away from him. You’re very grateful to see Mando with his weapon pointed directly at the man’s head. The man holds his hands up, “We were just having a friendly little chat.”

“Didn’t look friendly to me.” Mando deadpans, but he holsters his blaster now that it’s clear you’re safe. He comes over to you, placing a hand on the small of your back and turns you to walk away with him.

“Hey! She still needs to pay me for the food,” the man protests.

“What did he want for the food?” Mando asks you.

“A kiss,” you reply sardonically.

Mando shrugs, then turns back to the stall, approaches the man quickly and then just head-butts him hard with his helmet. The creep lets out a loud yell of pain and collapses to the ground.

“There you go, a kiss from a Mandalorian.” Mando drawls, before turning and striding back over to you.

Oh damn! That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and you feel your body flood with desire. Ok, so maybe that was a blatant show of male posturing, and as an educated, modern woman, you probably shouldn’t be so aroused right now. But some primeval part of your brain has taken over, and the only thought you have is how great a protector Mando is and how much you want him to protect you. You can’t even say anything to him right now because you’re just replaying the moment over in your head. It isn’t until you realize that Mando is saying your name, repeating it, that you finally snap back to reality and remember to thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mando is saying, “Are you ok?” He asks you slowly to make sure you’ve understood him. It’s possible he’s already asked you that but you were too swept up in your cavewoman thoughts.

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine,” you reassure him, “That creep just made me uncomfortable, but he didn’t hurt me. But, thank you again.”

“You’re sure?” Mando asks, a bit doubtful. What are you supposed to tell him? That your dazed look is because you’re turned on by him right now. Super inappropriate, having a major crush on your boss! You take a deep breath and remind yourself yet again that Mando is your employer.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You’re pleased that you managed to get that out in a normal sounding voice. Mando considers you for a moment.

“Why didn’t you pull your blaster on him?” He wants to know.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I guess I’m just not used to reacting that way.”

“Hmm, we’ll need to work on that.” He seems satisfied at that and starts walking back towards the Crest. You force your feet to follow him, telling yourself to pull it together.

“Is that really considered a kiss from a Mandalorian?” You can’t help your stupid mouth from blurting out your question.

He laughs, surprising you because it’s the first time you’ve heard it. “Technically, yes, we call it a Keldabe Kiss.” He chuckles again and then says, “But there is a much softer version too between lovers.”

Ok, you almost become a puddle hearing him say the word ‘lovers’, and thankfully he’s still amused by your question that he doesn’t seem to notice your mouth dropping open and your feet stumbling a little. Instead, all he says is “Let’s get back to the ship, kid’s got the right idea, I could use something to eat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, Mando powers up the engines and you figure you’re off to the next planet, but instead he keeps the ship in the atmosphere, taking you away from the town. He lands in a clearing near a forest, and says, “This will be a good spot to practice.”

“Practice?” You’re confused.

“Yeah, I told you we’re going to work on your reaction to threats.” He says this in a matter-of-fact voice, “Plus, I know you said you could shoot, but I want to see how you handle that blaster.”

Sighing internally, you put the holster back on and collect the blaster from the weapons locker before following him down the ramp. The baby toddles down the ramp too, curious to see what’s happening.

“Alright, Miss Top-Marks-in-Shooting, let’s see you hit that tree.” Mando’s tone is rather chipper as he points out a large tree directly across from where you’re both standing. It’s a very easy target; he must think you exaggerated your skills.

You draw the weapon smoothly and shoot, just as you were trained to do, hitting the tree with ease. You fire four shoots in a small cluster pattern, to show that you are capable of accuracy.

Mando nods his head once, “Ok, now hit those five trees in rapid succession.” He points to a line of smaller trees further away to your left. You turn and successfully hit all five in what you consider to be a decent pace.

“Not bad, but see if you can go faster.” He instructs you. You try again, hopefully quicker this time. He nods when you look back at him and then points out a new target. You both keep repeating this pattern and he offers some critiques as you shoot, but generally, he seems satisfied.

“You did well,” Mando tells you after a bit, “You ever hit a moving target?”

“Uh, no.” You look at him cautiously, wondering what he has in mind. Your eyes must show how anxious that makes you, because he says, “We’ll work on that another time.”

You can’t help but let out a small sigh of relief. You figure practice time must be over for now, but then he says, “Let’s work on that reaction time for when someone is in your face. Just let me tell the kid first.”

Mando walks over to the little one who has been sitting on the ramp watching you shoot. “Ok, kiddo, this is just pretend. You understand? No one will get hurt, so no powers, ok?” The baby coos up at him and Mando nods.

“Gotta make sure he doesn’t try to fling one of us into a tree.” He says to your bemused expression. Mando returns to face you and steps close until he’s practically touching you. Your heartrate immediately picks up and your body starts to feel hot.

“I want you to draw your weapon on me, but do not shoot me,” he says definitively.

“What? No, I can’t do that, Mando,” you tell him in protest.

He reaches out lightning fast, grabs your wrist, and hauls you up against him in a similar manner to the jerk in the marketplace. Your positioning might be the same, yet this time you don’t feel creeped out, no, instead you like it, your traitorous body even pushes you a little closer to him.

“Draw your weapon on me. I’m a threat to you.” Mando tells you in a gravelly voice. Stars above! You have to bite your lip hard to keep from moaning. What is wrong with me? You realize he’s not going to let you go until you draw the blaster and so you finally comply with his order.

Mando releases you with small chuckle, as he says, “Ok, let’s try that again only not in slow motion.”

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready.” You’re panting like you just ran a race.

“That’s the whole point,” he replies, “Threats don’t just wait until you’re ready to shoot them.” You could swear he’s smirking at you under that helmet.

“No, I mean, give me a second to imagine I’m being threatened,” you are trying to buy yourself time before he decides to touch you again. “I need to visualize it.”

“Are you saying I’m not threatening enough?” Mando sounds skeptical and maybe a little insulted.

“No, I mean, of course, you are, you’re very threatening and wanted men everywhere should fear you, but I don’t fear you because I know you’ll never hurt me,” you explain to him in attempt to cover up the fact that you’re so damn attracted to him right now.

“You’re right; I would never do anything to hurt you.” He nods in agreement. “But wanted men everywhere should fear me, huh?” He sounds amused by that.

“Yes, yes, you’re very scary.” You tell him, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Ok, so pretend I’m someone you do fear.” He advances toward you. This time you think of Lieutenant Sauckel, an odious man from Imperial Intelligence that you despised. When Mando grabs you again, you imagine Sauckel’s black eyes and yellow teeth and draw your blaster as Mando pulls you to his chest.

“That was better, but still too slow.” He makes you try over and over, and each time you picture another terrible Imperial officer, Commander Brack, Major Frick, Junior Lieutenant Hess, and then finally Ensign Kerrick Hoven, the man who broke your heart and betrayed you. Imagining Kerrick’s smug face appears to do the trick, because it’s the fastest you’ve drawn the blaster yet, and you manage to wrench your arm away from Mando for the first time.

“Good!” Mando praises you enthusiastically, “That was really good.”

“Thanks.” You’re pleased to hear his words of encouragement, but your voice doesn’t show it. Picturing Kerrick again is enough to send you into darker emotions and you feel anger and sadness swirl in your stomach. Your face must give away your unhappy thoughts, because Mando suggests you stop for the day.

You stow your blaster in the holster and then head over to the child who’s been thoroughly entertained watching you both pretend fight. You reach down to pick him up and hold him close to your chest in a hug. There’s just something about his sweet little presence that makes you feel better. You’re smiling again when you pull away and head back into the ship. Mando follows you up the ramp and he’s quiet but you can feel him watching you as you stow the blaster in the weapons locker and remove the holster from your waist.

“Everything alright?” He asks you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I-, Thank you for taking the time to work with me on that. To practice, I mean. I know you’re very busy.” It really does mean a lot to you that he took time out of his schedule for you and you feel your heart swell as you think about his protective nature.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice a little softer, “Your safety is important to me. Plus, you need to be able to help keep the child safe too.”

“Yes, of course,” you nod in agreement.

“It’s helpful that you’re a good shot.” He praises you again, and this time you smile at his words.

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely. While you haven’t seen him shoot, you know he’s clearly an expert and it really does mean a lot to hear him praise your skill.

You turn back to the child, “I think it’s playtime now, what do you say, buddy?” He chirps in agreement and you head over to his small stash of toys and place him on the floor so he can start pulling out his favorites. Before you clamber down to join him, you feel Mando’s hand cup your arm just above the elbow. You turn back towards him with an inquisitive look. He just seems to stare at you for a moment, still holding your arm before telling you, “I’ll going to get us on our way to the next planet.”

“Ok, we’ll be alright down here. I’ll bring you up some dinner later.” You give him another smile and a quick nod.

“Good,” is all that he says and then he gives your arm a little squeeze before heading to the cockpit and you can’t help but feel a little fluttering in your stomach at that touch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of your afternoon passes swiftly as you and the child take his plushies on a heroic quest across the metal wonderland (the hull) to the black cliffs of mystery (a stack of crates) where you must find the golden treasure (a box of cookies). It’s a much more enjoyable game of pretend seeing as you’re not imagining Imps threatening you. It puts you in a cheerful mood and you’re still grinning to yourself when you bring Mando his dinner tray. You feel a pang of regret for him that he’s missed out on the fun afternoon with you and the child and it’s compounded by the thought of him eating his dinner alone too.

“Mando?”

“Yeah?”

You want to ask if there’s any way you could keep him company while he eats, promising to face away from him the entire time, but it feels too pushy to ask him for that. Besides, you’re probably just projecting your own feelings onto him. He’s likely much more comfortable knowing that you and the child are safely shut away from him downstairs and there’s no way he can break his creed while he eats. So, you just tell him, “I hope you enjoy your food.”

When you head back downstairs, you’re mentally kicking yourself for getting too attached. Your job is to take care of the child and make sure his needs are met. It’s nice of you to take care of Mando a little too, but he doesn’t need you to keep him company or worry about him being lonely. I’m being pathetic. You turn your attention back to your little green charge and decide it’s time to give him a bath and get him ready for bed. Still though as much as you try, you can’t stop your thoughts from wondering back to Mando. It’s hard to forget what it felt like pulled up against his chest while you were practicing your self-defense. And you may have replayed the whole head-butt scene in your head a dozen times. Stars! Am I really so desperate that I’m falling for the first man who’s nice to me? You try again to push images of Mando out of your head and focus on the baby. It works until he’s sound asleep in his little hammock and you don’t have a distraction any more. Maybe you can just grab your holopad and read up in the cockpit. That way you can satisfy your need to be close to Mando but also keep from bothering him. You make your way up the ladder, making sure it’s ok to enter the cockpit in case he still has the helmet off, before flopping down in the passenger seat on Mando’s right. You sit there and fiddle with the holopad trying to find a story that will entice you enough to keep your eyes on it, instead of tossing glances at the armored man sitting next to you. Turns out it doesn’t matter though because Mando feels like chatting.

“Kid get to sleep ok?” he asks you.

“Yes, he was pretty sleepy after his bath,” you reply.

“Probably tired after that epic adventure you went on too,” he huffs out a laugh, “I heard you doing all the voices for the toys.”

“Oh, yeah,” you’re a little embarrassed by that as you know you can be pretty goofy when you’re pretending with the child, “He really seems to like it though.”

“Sure he does, I could hear him giggling too.” Mando confirms for you. “I’m glad he’s having this time to be a child. I don’t know much about his past, but I don’t think he’s had a lot of fun in his life.”

“Well, I’ll try to make sure he does something fun every day.” You already love the little one so much, anything you can do to make him happy brings you joy too.

“Who were you picturing when we were practicing your reaction time?” Mando changes the subject abruptly.

You take a moment to process his question, and then tell him, “Just some Imperial officers from my past.” You shrug, “I figured that would be good motivation to draw a blaster.”

He seems to consider you for a moment, and then asks, “What about the last time? Who was that?”

“Oh,” you try to let out a little laugh to ease the discomfort welling up in you, “That was the man who broke my heart.”

“An Imperial officer?” Mando sounds surprised at that.

“He wasn’t an Imperial officer when I first knew him. He was in the graduating class before mine. We dated when we were in school together and we stayed in contact after he graduated. He’s the one who convinced me to do the exams for the ‘research group’.” You make quotation marks with your hands when you say those last two words.

“He mislead you?” Mando asks.

“No, he didn’t know what it really was then either. He had only just heard about it and was trying to get a job there and convinced me that it would be great for the two of us to work together.” You pause there not sure if you really want to keep telling Mando this story.

He’s curious though, as he asks, “What happened when you both found out you were working for Imp Intelligence?”

“We were both shocked and we turned to each other for comfort. It was intense, because I still had old feelings for him, and at the time, I believed he was the only one who understood how I had been deceived because he was right there with me. For a while, it felt tragically romantic, like we were two people clinging to each other in the midst of a terrible situation.”

“So, how did he break your heart?” Mando questions softly.

“I didn’t realize how one-sided our love affair had become. I thought he shared my horror for the Empire and their actions, but little did I know, he was buying into the Empire’s message more each day. As I was trying to disrupt the intelligence, Kerrick was weaseling his way closer to the officers, trying to spend time with them or impress them with his work. They awarded him the rank of Ensign when he turned me in for sabotage.” You can’t help the tear that manages to sneak out and slide down your cheek. You look out to the stars as they swirl by you in hyperspace.

“What was his name? His full name?” Mando asks.

“Kerrick Hoven, why?”

He ignores the question and asks, “Is he still alive?”

“As far as I know, yes.” You’re not sure why that matters to him.

Mando just makes a little hmm noise and then says, “No wonder you drew your blaster so quickly.”

“Well, that’s my sad story of heartbreak. How about you, Mando? You have a heartbreak story of your own?” Now that you’ve bared your sad past to him, you’re curious to hear about his.

“No.” Is all that he says.

“No? Nothing?” You push back a little; he must have something to share.

“Not really. Never get too attached or involved with a woman.” He punctuates this with a shrug.

“What about when you were a bit younger? No love affairs?” You can’t stop yourself from being curious about his romantic past; you just want to know a little something about it.

“I’ve had lovers, but nothing long-term or serious.” he states, “Relationships don’t really go with being a bounty hunter.” He sounds rather blasé about his love life or lack of one, as if he doesn’t spend any time thinking about it at all.

You feel your heart drop at that and all of your fantasies about the two of you being together someday seem exceedingly ridiculous right now. Of course he isn’t a man who gets into relationships, and if you became his lover, it would probably be a short-lived fling that would burn itself out once the novelty of new passion was gone. You feel foolish and tired. The fun of hearing about Mando’s love life has dissipated completely for you. So you change the topic and ask, “Where are we headed to next?”

“Bespin” Mando says. “It’s a mining planet with a city high up in the clouds in the upper atmosphere.”

You listen politely as he tells you some other facts about the planet. It sounds interesting enough, but you’re not really paying that close attention as you’re still somewhat wrapped up in your emotional reaction to his dismissal of relationships. You take a deep breath to center your thoughts and then focus in on his words, telling yourself that this is for the best, that you need to let your stupid crush die and just do your job. If you can’t do that, you’ll just set yourself up for another heartbreak, and what will that get you?

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Thank you for reading! Link to Chapter 3, Lust Actually. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

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[inlovewiththefictionalcharacters]

COERCION AND HAVEN

Chapter - 9 : Lockdown Mode

Pairing: (dark) Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning(s):  MCU spoilers; Slowburn;  Stalking; Obsession; Non - con; Dubious content; Kidnapping; Sexual themes; Strictly 18+; Somnophilia; Manipulation; Any more required warnings will be added in the upcoming chapters.

*****

Series Masterlist

*****

*****

Two weeks went by since that night and each and every day have left Y/N in uncomfortable state. Steve was usually sweet and attentive to her, doting on her like a caring partner does, to the point it sometimes suffocated her. She felt strange, having someone do things for her when all these years, she has struggled all by herself. 

Her ankle, for the most part has healed, but not completely. The swelling has went down, but she did feel some pain shoot through it whenever she kept pressure on her leg. She was feeling a lot better for the most part. 

She was in the living room downstairs, going through the channels when Steve walked in, just coming home from his daily run.

“Good morning, doll. How are you feeling today?” he asked, standing behind the couch she was seated in, making her jump in her seat.

She quickly turned her head and blinked at him.

“I’m feeling pretty good, thank you” she replied him.

That’s what he does everyday. Ask her how she’s feeling whenever he got back home from his morning run. Her reply will be followed by a “I’ll go have a shower and get the breakfast ready” after which comes a kiss to her head. The last part making her go still in uneasiness. 

*****

The both of them were sitting in the dining room, having breakfast when she brought the topic yet again. Every time she brought the topic of her going back to her place up, he’d dismissively say “You’re not healed yet, Y/N” and divert the topic from there.

“Umm... Steve?” she asked after swallowing a forkful of pancakes, looking at him, sitting adjacent to her.

“Yes doll?” he asked, looking at her.

She cleared her throat, hoping she could come across to him without being dismissed yet again.

“I’m feeling pretty good, today. I’m doing well since a couple of days” she told him.

Steve smiled, his gorgeous blue eyes shining.

“That’s pretty good doll” he nodded, taking another forkful of pancakes into his mouth and chewing on them.

“So umm...” she trailed off, looking at him.

He looked at her and tilted his head curiously, wondering what she wanted to say.

“So uh... I was wondering if I could return back to my place-” she was saying, but Steve cut her off, asking “Why?” with a frown on his face.

She frowned back, hearing him and said “Since I’m doing well now... I was hoping to go back to work as soon as possible.”

Steve stood up, having finished his breakfast.

“You’re not going anywhere doll” he said, actually meaning it and took his plate into the kitchen and placed it in the sink.

Her heart stopped hearing it. Surely, he wanted to say something more, she told herself.

“But-” Y/N started, but he cut her off, saying “No buts. You’re not going anywhere. End of the discussion” getting irked with the flow of the conversation.

“Steve, I’m grateful for everything you did and are doing for me. You took care of me, provided me everything that I could ever possibly need and I’m forever grateful for it, but I don’t wanna be an overstay. You have a life of your own and I don’t want to be an impose over you. I have already wasted too much of your time-” she was saying and he cut her off, yet again.

“No matter what you say, I’m not changing my mind, doll” he said with a scowl.

He stooped down so that he’s face-to-face with her and grabbed her arm, his grip firm, yet gentle.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re not leaving this house and I fucking mean it” he told her, making her eyes go wide in fear.

He then let go off her arm and walked out of there. He marched towards the front door, grabbed his jacket. 

He stopped in front of the front door and said “F.R.I.D.A.Y., please implement lockdown mode as soon as I leave the house, until I’m back. Y/N should not leave the house and the front doors should only be opened by me. I want time-to-time updates on what she’s doing when I’m away, sent to me” wearing the jacket.

“Okay Captain Rogers. Lockdown mode initiated” F.R.I.D.A.Y. stated and a second later, added “Lockdown mode ready to be implemented.”

Y/N walked out of the dining room and stood in the hallway, staring at him in fear when he stepped out of the house. He turned around to shut the door but paused looking at her.

“I’ll be back later, doll” he told her and before she could utter even a syllable, he closed the door shut.

“Implement lockdown mode” Steve said.

Inside, Y/N heard the sound of windows and possibly the backdoor being shut too and then, she heard the female robotic voice again, saying “Lockdown mode implemented.”

*****

A few minutes after Steve left, Y/N tried to open the windows to get some fresh air, that will hopefully ease her mind. But the windows didn’t even budge when she tried to push them open.

Whenever she did that, she heard a “You do not have access to it, right now” from the same female robotic voice that scared the daylights out of her, the first night she was there.

Sighing in displeasure, Y/N decided to just step out of the house for some time and walked towards the front door and tried turning the knob and that too didn’t budge, but instead, she heard “You do not have permission to access the door, Mrs. Rogers.”

Y/N immediately stilled hearing it and she was pretty sure that her heart stopped too. Surely, the AI didn’t say what she thought she heard. She must have misheard it. That should be it. Or she’s turning delusional and she’s not okay with that. 

After a gulp, Y/N asked “What did you... What did you just say, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“That you do not have permission to access the door, Mrs. Rogers” the AI replied.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck?! Mrs. Rogers? Why am I being addressed as Mrs. Rogers?! Y/N’s mind raced.

“W-why?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Captain Rogers wanted to implement lockdown mode until he’s back, Mrs. Rogers. Nothing inside could go out and nothing outside can come in without his permission” the AI replied. 

She immediately fell down to her knees and slowly sat down on the floor, crossing her legs and her face in her hands. 

How did the day go so bad in such less time?

*****

By the Steve came back to the house, he was slightly pissed. F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept giving him time-to-time updates on what Y/N was doing and by the end, he was not pleased. 

After having that meltdown near the front door, Y/N tried to open the front door and the windows again. And when the windows didn’t budge even a bit, she threw a tantrum, wanting to get out of the place as soon as possible. She threw a vase at the window, hoping to break it, at least a small crack. The window looked spotless as always, but the floor was filled broken shards of the vase, water and roses and their petals.

She didn’t stop there. She even took a small wooden stool in the living room and tried to break the window again, but to no use. 

Steve saw the live feed of it on his phone and has been scowling since then. She even tried to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y., trying to convince the AI by saying “Please let me out!” “I don’t wanna be here” and even went as far as saying “I’m being held here against my will.”

He scoffed when he saw her saying the last part. She was clutching the knob of the front door, knelt down in front of it and cried like a petulant toddler. He definitely need to have a long talk with her. 

When he made it to their home, he was quick to open the door and walked inside, calling her name. She didn’t respond though and that made him frown. He took a few more steps inside and called her name again.

Y/N was right beside the little drawer by the door, crouched down. Luckily for her, he didn’t close the door and as soon as he was a few steps inside, she jumped to her feet and ran out, barefoot. Steve, hearing the movement from behind him, looked back and saw her running out of the door.

He cursed and called her name, rushing behind her. She probably made a couple of steps away from the threshold before he collided against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. She lost her footing and the force of him going against her knocked them down.

She wriggled under him, trying to get away with all her might, her fingers digging into the dirt and she kept chanting “Let me go. Let me go” in different intensities. With a sigh, he stood up and tried to make her stand, but she dug her fingers further into the ground.

“C’Mon doll” he told her but she shook her head, tears falling down her eyes.

Steve sighed in exasperation and grabbed her arm and pulled her up, making her yelp. He was quick to throw her over his shoulder like a rag doll and walked inside with her kicking and screaming for help.

[basilly]

basil’s q&a !

just wanted to make a small q&a posts because i know some ppl are afraid of reaching out or if they are crossing boundaries!

. what pronouns do you use? sexuality? gender?

she/her or even they/them! either one, I don’t have a preference. i am a cis hetero but i do try to educate myself as much as possible and do not tolerate homophobia

i am a female! you are totally welcome to use any words that seem feminine like pretty, beautiful, etc.

I am also completely okay with “guys, boys, dude, bro”

. favorite mcyts?

def wilbur + tommy, ranboo, quackity, karl, and tubbo

. can i jokingly insult you? 

yes you can! i don’t take things to heart easily, so if you throw a joking insult at me i won’t get upset 

. do you use tone indicators?

i am new to tone indicators, but i am trying to implement them in anyway i can

. what are you uncomfortable with?

i am uncomfortable w/ smut (i am a minor), gore, ppl throwing up, horror-related things, bugs, but that is about it

also you can ask for interests but not anything location related or age! I will say i am in PST time zone though <3

I do not have any intense triggers, maybe like blood and gore thats it

. can minors follow your blog?

yes! everything is safe for work (sfw) here and I am a minor myself, just dni if you are homophobic, racist, etc. 

. will you do a face or name reveal?

im a technoblade faceless! ive shown it before but rarely :3

. is lowercase intended?

yes! i just like the look of lowercase :]

. why are some reblogs at night for you?

i try to schedule reblog things as i sleep so you guys still get good content while im gone! so psa moots if u see me reblog way after i like smth thats why :)

. do you swear/cuss?

i dont! this isnt cuz of religion, it’s because i kind of just grew up as the goody two shoes and i don’t really find a need to? i hope that makes sense so my fics wont have cussing, unless its shortened like “wtf”

If I feel the need to add cuss words into my fics i will

. do you write romantically for minors?

i dont- even though i am a minor, i find it odd to write about them romantically and then have that content out for adults or non minors to romanticize them

. isnt it a little weird to write irl?

I see it as through their on stream personas and count that as “irl”, it is like writing for a tv character, it is not truly them as we dont know their true personality. So again it is like a character, and makes it less weird to me.

. if i want to start my own blog, what are some tips?

i have a whole post dedicated to that! linked here!

. can i come to your dms to talk?

pls refrain everyday convo to asks, my dms are only open for questions and concerns

this is because im just super busy and my dms r very glitched

. is fanart okay?

absolutely!! please i will cherish each one and protect it with my life

if you need reference photos, please ask! ill be happy to send picrews or details

. more to add if it comes up!

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 2:

Warnings: Mentions of firearms, stalking. *Tension*

Word Count: 1,843

———

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” - Oscar Wilde

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

You curse yourself as you walk down the concrete path, leading the way for Hotch to follow behind you. Spring in Virginia is unreliable and you suddenly find yourself cold and underdressed in your skirt and turtleneck. The cold is harsh as you hug your arms close to your body, your teeth chattering slightly. Your father advised that maybe it would be best if you and Agent Hotchner got to know one another better, and where better than right here on your father’s sprawling estate, where he could make sure you were safe.

You hear rustling behind you as Hotch catches up. “Here, ma’am. Let me.” You do a double take to see Hotch shrugging off his suit blazer, his shoulders broad and arms strong, gun holstered on his hip. You hold out your arms as he slips the oversized blazer through your arms from behind you, unconsciously rubbing your arm as he does. You steal a quick glance up at him as he stands over you, to find he’s already watching you intently, his gaze flickering to your lips again. You smile and look away.

“Aren’t you cold?” You worry, as he shrugs.

He chuckles and rubs a hand over his beard. “I tend to run a little hot anyway. Besides, my mother would kill me if she knew I hadn’t offered a lady my jacket in the cold.” He finds himself staring at you unwittingly, taken by the sight of his too-big blazer wrapped around your body.

You raise your eyebrows in amusement and laugh. “Ah, so he's a gentleman?” You tease. You cross the blazer over your body and bury your face in the collar, inhaling his scent, something citrusy and musk. It’s warm. Comforting. You feel butterflies in your stomach as you look back up at him and nudge him. 

“Thank you. You’re sweet.” You smile. 

You both find your stride as you start to walk together, down the concrete steps and towards the grounds. “So. FBI huh? My father tells me you’re a profiler too?” You inquire as you look up at him.

His dimples peek through as he smiles gently, his hands in his pockets now, more relaxed. “Ah not quite. I’m training to be a profiler and I had the requisite training to be on a security detail, so here I am.” He explains. “Your father told me you were supposed to head off to Yale this summer? What’s your major?”

“Poli-Sci.” You lament. “Family tradition, but I’d love to do something like criminology or psychology.” He nods his understanding as you continue. “Ultimately, I know Dad wants me to do whatever makes me happy, but the thought of breaking tradition? It’s scary, you know?” 

“Yeah-“ He stops himself. You look up at him as he shakes his head. “Never mind.” You raise your eyebrows and ask for him to go on but he declines by saying it would be breaking protocol. 

You stop walking and stare at him a moment and he breaks. “Look it’s okay, I know the feeling. My father, he was a lawyer. His father too. But if you know your heart’s somewhere else, maybe it’s best to go with that.” 

“Wow.” You nod and resume walking. “So you’re a gentleman, and a fountain of wisdom. Got it.” You chuckle. 

You fall into a comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other, his stride in keeping with yours, bodies just close enough to touch. You pass a row of kept maple trees and down to an old black gazebo where you remember spending your childhood, sheltering yourself from the rain, or playing hostess with your late mother. You perch yourself on the ledge, swinging your legs as Hotch maintains a distance from you.

“Hey, so-“

“-I” He apologises and signals for you to go first. 

You wince slightly as you take a breath. “I was just going to say, that I suppose we should talk about the elephant in the room?” His face steels and his chest rises, his mouth open.

“The- I’m sorry. The what?” He enquires. 

 “I take it my father showed you the pictures the stalker took of me?” You watch his shoulders drop and his face relax as he realises. 

“Yes ma’am-” 

“Please. No ‘ma’am’. I feel like my grandmother. Just call me by my name.” You joke. 

 “Sorry.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “But to answer your question, yes, I did see the photographs, your father showed me the file. I also saw the uh-” 

He pauses, not knowing quite how to continue. “-The notes.” He walks closer to where you’re sat on the ledge, the both of you almost the same height this way as he continues. You watch him try to find the words. “I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily, but you know this is serious? I mean the notes in and of themselves are a huge issue but given the fact that you’re someone in the public eye, it’s-”

“- I know. It’s why I’ve been living here, which makes it hard because I have an internship and an apartment in Georgetown.” You explain that you love being closer to home, and to your father but not having your independence makes you feel as though you’re suffocating. “But I’m going to be moving back.” You explain. 

Aaron stares at you in surprise and immediately advises against it, walking closer to you until you’re face to face to list the reasons why he thinks it’s a bad idea. You understand the gravity of the situation but you can’t help but stare at the way his lips move when he speaks, and how his arms and shoulders seem so strong, his dress shirt fitted just perfectly. How his hair looks so soft and how he still towers over you, his scent all around you. You realise he’s stopped talking and is just staring at you, waiting for you to respond, his hand holding the ledge next to you, encasing you in. 

Your breath catches and you swallow, looking up at him with wide eyes as you realise his gaze is fixed on yours, his eyes soft and glancing at your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you can feel heat rising on the back of your neck, your heartbeat pronounced. You swallow again, taking a deep breath and losing your nerve. You hop off the ledge and walk around him, needing some distance. “Look, you make fair points, but seeing as I have permanent security until we catch this son of a bitch, I don’t think it’s too outlandish. I’ve discussed it with my dad, too.” You reason. Hotch is still frozen in place. 

You continue, “-Besides, me being locked away here, isn’t going to help catch him. He knows he can’t get to me here. But giving him a chance to think he can get to me might work! And I don’t want to put my entire life on hold because of some psycho who thinks I owe him something. If he gets too close, you can catch him, right? Set some sort of trap or something?” He turns now, watching as you dart around the gazebo reasoning that it could be safe. 

He explains that he needs to clear it with his superiors and the Ambassador before he can allow it to happen, but that ultimately, he will try his best to make sure your needs and wants are met. You nod in understanding. “Look, the last I want to do is to put you in an uncomfortable situation, but you get where I’m coming from, right, Agent Hotchner?” 

He has a strange feeling in his chest when he hears his name come from your mouth but he plays it off, promising he’ll discuss it with Barnes and your father today. You thank him as you slide past him to get to the steps of the gazebo and return back to the house. You walk back down the path you came from, in a comfortable but buzzing silence, the both of you trying to make sense of the moment you shared back there, as you steal a glance at his face, his brows furrowed and his jaw hard. He catches you, his eyes on yours as he asks, “You okay?”

You take a beat. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I think I am.” You reply as you bury your nose in the collar of his blazer. 

----------------- 

You’ve been waiting in the foyer outside of your father’s office for around 40 minutes when the door finally opens. The past 40 minutes had consisted of heated discussions in angry whispers taking place on the other side. Hotch, McCall, Barnes and your father were discussing the matter of whether it would be feasible for you to return to your own apartment, when you had made your opinion more than known. Your father’s assistant calls you in and closes the door behind you as you watch Agents Hotcher and McCall rise from their seats. You hold your breath.

“Well, it appears you can be quite persuasive, young lady.” You rush to his side before he can even finish his sentence, throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. He laughs as he continues, “There are, however, measures that myself and the team will be putting in place to make sure you’re safe while you’re away.” His eyes look tired and worried. “Effective immediately, Agents Hotchner and McCall will be teaching you self-defence and how to safely hold and discharge a firearm. I want you to be in a position to defend yourself, should you need to.” 

You feel worry and a twinge of guilt as you realise you are all your father has left in this world. The thought of your father having to think about how you’re to defend yourself from somebody who has made his intentions this clear, fills you with sadness. You hold his hands in yours and squeeze reassuringly. “Thank you, Dad. I know this isn’t easy, but I’m going to be fine. Okay?” 

He takes a deep breath and cups your face in his hands, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” 

You turn to face Agents Hotchner and McCall to thank them too. You share a knowing smile with Hotch, knowing that while you were indeed persuasive, it was Hotch that would have sealed the deal and that it would have been his idea to implement the self-defence and firearm safety. Your father walks you all out of your office and you turn to reassure him again. He informs you that Agent McCall will be staying for a while longer to finalise the details of the security schedule and that Hotch would drive you to your apartment. 

“Well, I guess we should start packing?” Hotch asks as you both walk out of your father’s office. 

“Who says I’m not already packed?”

< Prev | > Next

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Tags: @andromedasstarship​ @oreogutz​

[dishwater-blondie]

Why do you suppose Gabriel is so cold to Adrien? It seems like he doesn't care much about Adrien outside of his relation to Emilie. Given how bad things are between them it's hard to imagine how their relationship can be healed in a satisfying way

I do have a lot of thoughts on this and they are grounded mostly in pure speculation. I admit the show itself seems to suggest that the majority of the affection Gabriel holds for Adrien is related through Emilie, or at least the majority of affection that isn’t implicit paternal fondness (if that even matters with someone as emotionally flaccid as Gabriel). And honestly, this kinda sucks. For people to do try to enjoy Gabriel’s character like myself, his relationship with Adrien as presented does serve as one especially shitty detail in what is already quite the shitshow. But what really bothers me is that there is immense potential for some compellingly intricate family dynamics in the Agreste household that is oversimplified by the idea that Adrien is a reminder of Emilie to his father and nothing more. Here’s an explanation of what I believe should be the situation:

I’ve already offered plenty of analysis on why I think Emilie should be a villain and the evidence we have suggesting this might be the case, so I’ll spare you all of that right now. What I’ve talked much less about is how Emilie herself could have thrown a wrench in the relationship between father and son. From what we’ve heard about her so far, we are to understand that Emilie was always the warm and affectionate parent, while Gabriel, given his rigidity and general coldness, was likely the disciplinarian. However, since it’s been theorized at length that Emilie must have been majorly responsible for Adrien’s isolation growing up (at least equally to her husband), one conclusion that I have drawn is that Emilie could have been the one making these rules, tasking Gabriel with enforcing them. That’s not to say Gabriel didn’t also believe in these rules. I’m sure he did. But it’s beyond obvious that Gabriel has an unhealthy devotion to his wife, so who is to say Emilie didn’t manage to convince Gabriel of a structured lifestyle he wouldn’t have otherwise favored? It’s possible (especially when you consider based on Audrey’s dialogue that Gabriel was probably the lower class of the two who had to work and marry his way into wealth).

But expanding on this, we also have ample evidence that Emilie liked being idolized in her own house. Why else would there be giant golden portraits, statues, and a beautiful multi-story repository/garden - at least two of which had to have been prepared before she had fallen asleep? Might we speculate, then, that Emilie liked to be the center of attention? That she reveled in this overzealous dedication Gabriel exhibits towards her? And if she likes it from Gabriel, why wouldn’t she like it from her son, who doesn’t seem to register that she had to have played a considerable role in keeping him sheltered from the world? Adrien’s isolation is blamed on Gabriel even though he has more friends and freedom now than he’s had throughout the rest of his life. Yet, Emilie is still thought of as the better parent.

To a great extent, of course, she was. At least in terms of giving her son the time of day and being emotionally available to him. But what if she closed Gabriel off from this role? What if she made him play bad cop, enforce the rules she liked while she got to swoop in with her love and comfort and ignore that she was just as responsible for the way things were? What if she facilitated these parenting roles, ensuring she was always painted in a good light and never blamed for her son’s hardship?

[I mean, look at Amelie, who blamed Felix’s bad behavior on the fact that his father was no longer around to keep him out of trouble. She’s not responsible. His dad was the disciplinarian. Not her. She can’t control her son (even though she very much is)].

Now Emilie is gone and Gabriel doesn’t know how to step into the role she’d played all their son’s life. He seems so uncomfortable with Adrien showing him any kind of affection. Like it’s new to him. Like he doesn’t know how to be what Emilie had once been. Like he even feels guilty for filling that space.

Remember when Gabriel expressed that all he has left of Emilie is the grimoire and Adrien? Well, he is obsessed with that grimoire (or what it represents, the miraculous endeavor as a whole). But he keeps Adrien at a distance. If memory is all Adrien provided for him, wouldn’t he taking advantage of that more? If he truly values Adrien only as something Emilie left behind, I feel like they’d have a different relationship. Still a very, very unhealthy one. But different. “Closer” feels like the wrong word even though I do mean “less distant”. 

But no. Adrien seems almost emotionally off limits to Gabriel. He’s not brushing Adrien off because he’s too painful of a reminder - Gabriel literally never stops reminding himself of Emilie. Gabriel brushes Adrien off because he doesn’t know how to be something other than what he’s always been - the iron fist. The bad cop. The disciplinarian. Being as loving and warm as Emilie used to be would not only force him to confront the fact that they don’t need Emilie anymore, but it would also betray the hard and fast structure of their family functions, the structure Emilie implemented to secure her place in the emotional center of her husband and son’s worlds. 

As for how to heal their relationship, I talked a little bit about this in my post about Gabriel’s redemption, but I want to add that I do think it’s imperative these dynamics are exposed and both Agrestes realize how their relationship has been manipulated and that they properly communicate about it. 

Thank you for this ask! This was some fun analysis. 

[princekoo]

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

    The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself.  The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that.  He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

   The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

[figula]

today -

really sleepy today

didn’t really do any work. am nearly out of liquid latex, which is what i use for wigmaking, so i am rationing it out until the new batch arrives - which should have been today, but wasn’t :|

packed an order to send off tomorrow

watched annihilation (the film) and quite liked it - sci fi not usually one of my preferred genres but i enjoyed this - though it looked great in particular and a lot of the set pieces really made me want to make dioramas in similar veins (the plant people / the man overtaken by mould / weird and overgrown landscapes)

hung out w/ ana in the evening which was nice

was inspired by a brief conv w/ tumblr user bananapeppers yesterday to actually do something nice for myself post-therapy-task rather than just grimly moving onto the next thing (which is kind of exhausting). need to think what would be a good reward for myself am supposed to let ben cook for me this week too but ive left it a bit late so im gonna try and get some ingredients delivered on sunday and he can make dinner then i guess. i really feel like ive lost my momentum a bit on this - the first 2 weeks i felt much more motivated but now i feel so tired and drained by the changes im trying to implement that i just feel like - i cant do this lol. but i know i have to do it - not just for some vague idea of success, not just to please my therapist (eye roll), but bc over the past 10y my life has slowly become so shrunken and dry, and i need to stretch it back out. it’s massively uncomfortable but there are so many things that i want to do that i cant do while im like this

washed my bedsheets but tink is sleeping on the bare mattress atm so she is gonna get a rude awakening shortly when i go and put them back on

[hurricanery]

handmade

A/N: Hi! I felt like writing something slightly cute and wanted to get some requests done. This is inspired by this prompt, this prompt, & this prompt and a few others basically requesting Amelink/Scout first night home from the hospital/Amelia being super hormonal. This ended up being still a lil angsty whoops but thank you for sending prompts! And pt. 6 of If You Went Away will most likely be posted next <3

_______

hold me tight and I’ll sink in

i’m absorbed in your thinking

_______

“....I’m sorry, huh?” Amelia’s voice comes out in a stunned question. She glances up at Carina DeLuca from where she’s settled in her increasingly uncomfortable bed on the maternity floor.

“I said you can go home, Dr. Shepherd,” Carina repeats the words she’d spoken just prior, smiling optimistically. “You guys can go home today.”

Link smiles wide from where he stands near Amelia’s bedside. He rubs Amelia’s shoulder encouragingly, looking down at her with an expression of pure excitement. Amelia’s face does not reflect an equal sentiment.

“You’re sure….?” She turns her attention back to Carina, eyebrows pulling together as she tries to process this information.

“Yes, Amelia,” Carina laughs, implementing the first name basis in an attempt to comfort the new mother in front of her. “You’re healthy. The baby is healthy….” She smiles down at Scout, who sleeps soundly in the bassinet in the corner of the room. “It’s time to bring him home.”

Amelia’s frown deepens as she watches Carina leave the room. It had been two full days since Scout came into the world. Two full days of being surrounded by the people she loves. Two full days of constant support and visitors. And now it was back to reality. Her new reality.

She knows. In the back of her mind. That there’s no point in staying here in this hospital room. She’s a doctor. She’s prepared. Or she should be. And there’s nothing else left to do.

She bites the corner of her thumbnail anxiously as she re-visits her mental checklist. She pretty much has a handle on the feeding process. Link has basically mastered swaddling. And they were finally able to settle on a name. Which, as it turns out, was the toughest part. But they got there. And now there was nothing else left to do. The checklist is complete. Scout Derek Shepherd Lincoln is ready to go home.

Link clears his throat, raising his eyebrows at Amelia, who drops her nervous nail-biting to return his gaze. She smiles, despite herself, allowing Link’s calm demeanor to anchor her.

_______

Link is prepared, he thinks. For most things in life. Part of that he credits to not being an over-thinker. His preparedness is never a result of heavy planning, but more so an outlook that allows him to go with the flow. To take things as they come.

He’d only stressed momentarily before Amelia went into labor.

Will Amelia have an easy delivery?

Will we make it to the hospital on time?

Will the baby be scared of me?

That was the extent of his worry. So, what he’d failed to consider, was the aftermath. What to expect in the days and weeks after the birth.

“Ugh, god, stop,” Amelia whines. “Really, I got it.”

Link chuckles, bewildered, as he watches Amelia climb the staircase in Meredith’s house. He drops his hands from where he’d attempted resting them on her shoulders, in an effort to guide her up the stairs.

“You’re sore, Amelia. I was just trying to help.”

Link shrugs to himself defensively before following shortly after her.

“I don’t need help.” She mutters as they cross the threshold back into her bedroom.

They both peek into Scout’s bassinet next to the bed, and momentary relief floods them both at the sight of their newborn still sound asleep.

Link’s gaze remains glued to Scout adoringly, until he hears Amelia’s exasperated sigh from somewhere behind him.

He turns around in time to watch her lower herself onto the bed. She sits halfway up, leaning against the headboard and closes her eyes tightly. The grimace that twists across her face makes Link feel helpless.

“You okay?” He tries, slowly approaching the bed to sit down on the edge, near her feet.

“Ugh,” she groans her response, not even opening her eyes when she feels Link’s weight on the bed.

Link rests a hand on her shin comfortingly. And Amelia groans again, a crease forming between her brows.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she breathes out impatiently.

And Link sighs.

“I can’t believe I forgot this part….” She continues, opening her eyes to look at Link. “There’s not really a handbook for what to expect after, ya know?” She laughs a little bit, apologetically. And Link nods understandingly. “I mean the last time…” Her voice cracks a bit on the sentence. “The last time….I couldn’t really separate the pregnancy from….from what else was going on with me….health-wise….” She trails off again as reluctant tears spring to her eyes. “I just kinda forgot about all this.” She laughs bitterly as she gestures to her own body between them.

“Well, let me help you-”

“What can you do, Link?! My uterus is quite literally shrinking back to its normal size. It’s just cramps.” She cuts him off angrily and Link recoils from her mood swing. She folds her arms across her chest and then immediately gasps at the tenderness there. “And, dammit, my chest is sore. That part….I didn’t have to deal with the last time.”

Link nods slowly. Breastfeeding was a new experience this time around.

“Sorry….” She mumbles, much quieter than before, glancing at the newborn that sleeps just a couple of feet away. “For lashing out. It’s not me, it’s the hormones.”

“Eh,” Link shrugs. “I’m used to it at this point.”

Amelia scowls. But it quickly softens into a slight smile as she leans back again and closes her eyes.

“You’ve known me as hormonal and pregnant more than you’ve known me as….not hormonal and not pregnant. I promise you, I’m not crazy.” She whispers.

“Sure, Amelia.” Link chuckles.

Her eyes shoot open. “Hey!” She mutters playfully. “I would try to be on my good side right now.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He shakes his head amusedly, pulling her feet into his lap. He massages her feet and ankles and watches her relax into the sensation, while he thinks of his next plan. “How about a bath? That might feel good….?”

She blinks, thinking about it. She purses her lips, not wanting to admit to Link that he’s come up with something useful.

Link laughs at her expression.

“I’m going to start a bath, then.”

And Amelia pouts at the loss of contact when he shifts her feet away from him, moving towards the bathroom.

_______

“You want me to join you, or just stay in here, or-”

“No,” Amelia says sternly as she relaxes back into the tub, resting her eyes. She’s taken aback by the impatient tone of her own voice, though, and she opens her tired eyes apologetically. “I mean, no thank you. I’m okay.” She smiles. “And thank you for this.”

Link isn’t hurt by her dismissal. He smiles back at her. “That’s okay….I’m just going to go watch Scout sleep.”

Amelia huffs out a laugh at this.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “You do that.”

Link watches as Amelia unwinds completely. She sighs in bliss as she leans her head back and it makes Link’s heart swell. It makes him feel less useless to her. He’s still smiling to himself as he turns on his heels, walking back to the room to do exactly what he’d mentioned. Watch his newborn sleep.

_______

“Hey,” Amelia breathes as she rounds the corner back into the bedroom, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stay in there so long.”

“That’s okay,” Link responds, shifting his gaze away from the bassinet and turning around to meet Amelia’s eyes. “You earned it.”

Amelia smiles gratefully, moving forward to sit next to Link on the edge of the bed. She looks down warmly at the sleeping newborn in front of them. “You were serious when you said you were just gonna watch him sleep, huh?” She mutters quietly.

“Mhm,” Link’s eyes are glued back to Scout. “He hasn’t even stirred.”

“Don’t say that,” Amelia warns. “Let’s not jinx it. Can you imagine us actually sleeping through the night?” She grins up at Link. And Link shakes his head amusedly.

“But we should probably sleep, while he sleeps….” Link offers.

“Right….” Amelia mumbles. “But, wow. It is really hard to look away from him, isn’t it?”

Link laughs. And suddenly stands. He reaches a hand out for Amelia to take.

“Come on, bedtime.” Link pulls Amelia into a standing position, and they both take one last look at Scout.

“Can you believe we….made him?” Amelia’s voice is full of wonder. “We made that tiny little human.”

“Well, you did most of the work,” Link grins. Then turns to her with a more serious expression. “You still….do most of the work.”

Amelia’s heart swells. And she smiles, biting her lip, trying to shrug off the sentiment of Link’s words.

“And you should sleep in tomorrow,” Link adds, guiding them around to the other side of the bed. “Do you want to pump at all tonight….? So that you can sleep in a little bit when he wakes up hungry?”

Amelia groans, rolling her eyes. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Here,” Link approaches the dresser, grabbing her sleep shorts and one of his oversized t-shirts. “Put on something comfy first.”

“Mhm,” Amelia nods in agreement, taking the clothes from him. But then she gasps suddenly, a sharp cramp twisting through her pelvis.

“What’s wrong?!”

“Just cramps,” she breathes, eyes shut tight.

“Okay, here. Sooner you get changed, sooner you can get back into bed.” Link takes the t-shirt back from her, encouraging her to drop the towel and lift her arms. And when she does so, Link guides the shirt over her body. He then crouches down, tapping Amelia on each foot in a way that signifies for her to step into her shorts. Link slowly rises as he pulls them up her legs, and the second the forgiving waistband is resting at her hips, Amelia collapses back down into the bed.

Link sighs. Not wanting to disturb her. “I’m….going to go get the breast pump.”

Amelia groans.

“Sorry,” Link whispers apologetically as he leaves the room.

_______

Amelia yawns desperately as she finishes pumping. She lays back against the headboard again, her head rolling to the side to look at Link, smiling lazily.

“This must be so attractive to you, sorry,” she mumbles sarcastically. “But I think I’m done,” she adds as she sits up.

Link frowns as Amelia settles herself from the task.

“Amelia….” He watches as she starts putting everything away. “Don’t say that.”

She just laughs dismissively in response.

“You’re literally providing nutrients to our kid, I mean….” He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief, trying to gather his next words. “I’ve never found you more attractive.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. Suddenly sick of the overly sentimental direction this conversation was heading.

“I was joking,” she replies shortly, her tone impatient once again. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Alright,” Link agrees as Amelia quickly gets under the covers. He glances across, to the freshly pumped breast milk on her bedside table. He gets up and crosses the room. “I’m going to go put this in the fridge, I’ll be back.”

Her lack of response still doesn’t quite phase him.

When Link returns, a few minutes later, Amelia is seemingly sound asleep. He settles under the covers on his side of the bed and lays flat on his back.

He turns his head toward Amelia, who sleeps on her side, with her back to him. She makes no indication that she’s aware of his presence. Link sighs, turning over to face the opposite way. He shuts his eyes tightly, desperate to get some sleep before the inevitable. Before Scout wakes up and wreaks havoc on their sleep schedules.

Link begins to drift off quickly, only barely interrupted when he feels Amelia shift around in the bed. He successfully ignores the movement, falling easily back into the verge of slumber.

Until 10 minutes later. When he feels movement again.

Amelia shifts around in the bed, and Link can hear her sigh heavily. Her breath sounds closer to him than before. But again, he tries not to let it pull him from sleep. He grasps onto his exhaustion, willing himself to fall asleep.

But then 5 minutes later, he’s shaken from sleep again. Because he can feel the dip in the mattress as Amelia adjusts herself once more. Now impossibly close to him. Her breath against the back of his neck is the biggest indication of the lack of space between them.

Before he can even think about resisting, or think about grappling back towards sleep, he feels cold feet rest against his bare shins under the covers.

He gasps fully awake at the abrupt sensation. And turns over in bed.

“Amelia….” he groans sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjust. He can just make out her face in the dimly lit room. He’s immediately shocked by just how close she is to him.

Her eyes stare back at him widely.

“If you want to cuddle,” he smirks knowingly, “all you have to do is say so.”

“I don’t,” she deflects, brushing off the accusation.

Link’s smirk grows. Like he’s won some battle. And resent reflects all over Amelia’s face.

“Okay, then,” he announces matter-of-factly, beginning to turn away from her again.

But then her face falls. And Link pauses, scanning her eyes. And then he decides.

“Okay,” he mutters again. “Well I’m going to cuddle you anyway. Because it’s what I want.” He reaches for her, wrapping his arms around her until she adjusts so that her back aligns with his front.

Amelia sighs at the contact, relaxing into his embrace completely. Link’s hands move to rest over her lower abdomen and instead of retreating, the comfort actually brings tears to Amelia’s eyes. Link presses gently, applying soothing pressure, and Amelia gasps gratefully.

“Does that feel okay?” He murmurs.

Amelia quickly nods, letting out a quiet “Mhm,” instead of revealing the emotion that would likely be evident in her voice if she went the more verbal route.

But then she sighs again. Because even she can hear the level of desperation in her ‘Mhm.’

“It’s just the hormones,” she defends herself out loud, a revealing tightness to her voice.

“Sure, Amelia.” He chuckles, reaching forward to place a quick kiss to the top of her head. He relaxes back into their now shared position, finally drifting off to sleep.

//