#OTP: And the Colors are Golden and Bright Again

[morganaseren]

Pairing for thought: Josephine and Niamh

Y'all are just determined to never let the plot bunnies inside my head rest, huh? 😂 Well, lucky for you all, I've actually thought about this pairing before, mostly because I romanced Josephine in two previous Inquisition runs, and I think she's absolutely sweet. 🥰 For those of you whom have been reading OtSttCA, you'll know that Niamh is quite diplomatic and tends to take the route of peace whenever possible, so I imagine she and Josephine would get along rather well as a couple!

Things to Know:

No Blight of Darkspawn threat, but it will take place around the same time Origins does in 9:31 Dragon.

The Circle of Magi doesn't exist, so mages live freely.

The Veil was never torn apart, so elves also live freely in addition to being rather long-lived.

Based on lore, the Montilyets were originally a naval power in Antiva until 8:31 Blessed, where they lost favor with the Du Paraquettes over the alleged matter of marriage and fidelity. Incensed, the Du Paraquettes established a contract with the House of Repose to keep the family out of Orlais, but this exile brought the once formidable family to near ruin.

For the purposes of this AU, however, we're going to say the above schism happened closer to the turn of the new Age. Instead of the claim of infidelity, the Du Paraquettes (falsely) accused the Montilyets of cheating them out of merchant goods in this verse. This leads to the Montilyets to be blacklisted by the merchant industry.

By the time Josephine is barely a teenager, her parents are still trying to restore their reputation and fortune in much the same way Josephine herself did canonically in Inquisition. The Montilyets are barely keeping afloat as is by then, for where they once held hundreds of ships in testament to their power, they now maybe only have half a dozen or so at best.

Unfortunately, their push to return to Orlais led to the House of Repose going after them as deemed necessary by their contract, and to make matters worse, the Du Paraquettes also hired Rivaini pirates to sink any ships bearing the Montilyet crest. The latter happened when the family was sailing along the Waking Sea. The voyage was meant to be a family vacation of sorts to help them forget about their woes for a bit when they were suddenly attacked.

Thankfully, they were saved when a fleet of Mac Eanraig warships happened upon them during a patrol.

The Mac Eanraig clan held a fierce reputation as notorious raiders against Orlesian ships during the Fereldan Rebellion, and with the war's aftermath, the royal family tasked them with the crucial duty of guarding the country's waters as their premier naval power. The clan's influence also grew, however, when Eleanor Mac Eanraig (the famed Sea Wolf of the war) later married Teyrn Bryce Cousland of Highever. In terms of hierarchy, the Couslands are only a tier below the monarchy of Ferelden.

With that knowledge along with the realization their children were now in even greater danger with the vendetta from both the Du Paraquettes and Rivaini pirates against them, Josephine's parents beg the Mac Eanraigs to arrange a meeting with the Couslands. In doing so, they hope to have Josephine betrothed to one of Bryce and Eleanor's children. The engagement of their daughter to a member of such a respected family would serve as a deterrent for their enemies against further attacking them until Josephine's parents can at least find any legal loopholes to stop the Du Paraquettes.

The Couslands feel for the Montilyets' plight and accept the betrothal on the condition that their youngest daughter (and only unmarried child) also agrees to the arrangement.

Thus, Josephine finds herself in the unexpected and unenviable position of having to convince someone she's never even met to marry her.

There is a bit of an age difference between Niamh and Josephine. As I recall, Josephine's writer mentioned she was anywhere between 27-29 years old in Inquisition whereas Niamh would be 33 by then. Since this AU takes place in 9:31 Dragon, I'm going to average Josephine's age out to be 18 around that time while Niamh would be 23.

With that all out of the way, I'm going to leave you all with a scene of Josephine and Niamh meeting for the first time!

Note: Anything written in regular print is an actual excerpt from the WIP while anything italicized just happens to be vague thoughts I have about certain scenes I plan on writing.

---

It had been some weeks since Josephine and her siblings had settled into Castle Cousland. The Teyrn and Teyrna had been most gracious in making them feel welcome, which Josephine is grateful for. The separation from their parents is hard enough after all. Both had returned to Antiva with an escort of Mac Eanraig ships in tow to ensure their safety while they navigate through the murky waters of diplomacy in an attempt to re-establish their holdings.

Her siblings seem happy enough to explore their new surroundings. While their estate back home wasn't terribly modest, the castle exists on a scale of both storied history and magnificence that perhaps the only one that could rival it is the one owned by Ferelden's royal family. As it is, Castle Cousland is a sight to behold—appropriate for a family whose name stretches back well into the Towers Age.

Still, the fact Josephine is there at all is just another unwanted reminder of the expectations placed upon her. With perhaps the exception of her brother Laurien—the next eldest behind her—their other siblings likely couldn't understand what's at stake if she fails.

At its core, her goal is to secure a negotiation. She's studied enough in regards to administration and diplomacy (with the hopes that her knowledge would eventually come to help ease the stress that weighed so heavily upon her parents) that she's at least confident in being able to present a case to her would-be suitor.

...of course, she's yet to see the woman in question.

---

Little bit of Cousland and Mac Eanraig backstory to help make sense of things!

So Bryce and Eleanor have three children: Fergus, Saoirse (my canon Hero of Ferelden), and Niamh.

As the firstborn, Fergus will become Teyrn of Highever once Bryce retires. Given the Blight never happened, he's still happily married to Oriana, and their young son Oren aspires to be a noble warrior just like his father one day.

Saiorse is serving as an up-and-coming Commander of Ferelden's royal army. She's married to Leliana, an expatriate of Orlais, who now serves as the Spymaster of Ferelden.

Niamh, of course, is the youngest. Because of her strong familial ties to the Mac Eanraig family, she's widely-acknowledged as the named heir and successor to her Aunt Eithne, who never married or had children of her own, which means the mantle as head of the Mac Eanraig clan as well as the position of Admiral to the family's entire fleet will go to Niamh by right upon her aunt's retirement or death.

For the time being, however, Niamh's position in this verse is similar to the one she has in her Take Me Under AU, where she's the Captain of the Mac Eanraig's fleet of research vessels. Their purpose is the study and conservation of marine biology, which is well-suited to Niamh's inner scholar. 🤓

Niamh still has access to her magic in this AU, and while it's true that she's grown up and trained on warships nearly all her life like her mother before her, she reserves violence as a last resort. Of course, she's not above protecting those near and dear to her in whatever way she can, which we'll discover later. 😉

Back to the story!

---

Josephine knows the Teyrn's youngest daughter is hardly avoiding her.

The woman's duties to her extended family, however, meant she was still out at sea by the time Josephine and her siblings had first docked at Amaranthine's port and settled into Highever.

Unfortunately, each day that passes without any progress toward securing a marriage contract only seems to fill Josephine with nagging doubt over her ability to see the matter through. As a means of distraction, she busies herself with fussing over the welfare of her younger siblings, but by then, each had found their own ways of keeping themselves occupied around the castle and the teyrnir in general (under the patient supervision of the various members of the castle guard, of course). Thus, they don't necessarily need Josephine at their side at every waking moment.

Uncertain with what to do with herself one day, Josephine mindlessly meanders through the castle's sprawling gardens. Therein, she sits in the shadows beneath the base of a large tree, and in the calm serenity surrounding her, the very careful mask of controlled dignity she's been wearing until that moment finally starts to crumble. Despite her best efforts, she can't stop her tears once they start. She doesn't know how long she sits there, weeping quietly into her hands. Soon enough, however, her breath hitches with a start when she feels the touch of a cold nose and whiskers against her leg.

Briefly bunching her fingers into fists with her fright, she looks down to see what is ostensibly a small, white cloud at first glance. Confused, she gracelessly wipes the tears from her eyes to clear her vision, but when she does, she sees a little puppy sitting before her instead, who watches her with a curious tilt of a head—a sight that's made all the more adorable with his drooping ears and his soft whine of concern.

Upon closer inspection, she also discovers the pup isn't quite a uniform white. Along his back is a gradient of dark fur markings, similar to a standard mabari. A little storm cloud then, she thinks with some amusement. Josephine wagers he's part of some specialized breed. She's curious as to how he got there though, but he seems friendly enough. She giggles when he licks at her fingers when she moves to pet him, causing his little tail to wag happily.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

The voice startles her for the second time in as many minutes, and she looks up to see a woman standing just at the shadowed edge of the tree. As if in answer to her earlier question, Josephine spots a multitude of white-furred puppies milling around the woman's legs. She reasons they're litter mates of her newest companion. Two mabari warhounds also stand nearby, but their appearance there at all makes Josephine wonder if the woman is perhaps one of Highever's Kennel Masters. She certainly has the musculature of someone not unused to hard work, and Josephine finds that she has to keep herself from staring at the bare arms on display before her. It doesn't simply have to do with the defined lines on them—or at least that's what she tries to convince herself—but moreso her surprise that the other woman doesn't seem at all cold.

Granted, the weather in Southern Thedas is certainly far cooler than what Josephine is used to, especially with the onset of autumn here, but the woman seemed exceedingly comfortable in her simple outfit of a sleeveless tunic, leather trousers, and boots--all a uniform black save for the silver buckle of her belt to cinch the tunic tighter around her waist.

The limited color palette pair well with the woman's appearance though with gentle waves of hair as dark as a raven's wing along with eyes that are like liquid moonlight.

Josephine also can't help but notice her accent is similar to the one borne by the various men and women whom make up the impressive Mac Eanraig fleet in Amaranthine—a distinctive, airy inflection that doesn't quite align with the standard Fereldan lilt. Could she be the daughter of one of the former raiders?

When the woman merely tilts her head in question—the gesture reminding her of the same one the puppy did earlier—Josephine flushes with embarrassment when she realizes she still hasn't responded to the earlier question.

"Oh! Please, pay me little mind. I'm just being silly..." She looks down at her lap with a sigh. "Honestly, it's a foolish thing to cry over."

But that only leads the woman's brows to draw together in concern. "If it's driven you to tears, my lady, then I'm inclined to disagree. You needn't tell me all the details if you don't wish to, but if you'd perhaps like someone to listen to your concerns as a means of navigating your thoughts and emotions, then I would not be opposed to doing so."

The offer is a kind one, Josephine acknowledges. She bites her lip in thought while her restless fingers gently pluck at the folds of her dress.

"My family is in danger. As a means to try and protect my siblings and I from further attacks by our enemies, my parents arranged a betrothal for me to a woman I've never even met. In order for the arrangement to even work though, she would also have to agree to it, and..." Josephine pauses with a sniffle. "...and I'm terrified that she won't. No one would agree to an engagement on such limited notice!" she blurts out. "I know I was always expected to marry as the presumptive heir to my family, but I never imagined it would be this soon! There's still much so much I want to do with my life, and I know it's selfish of me to even think that, especially since going through with this would mean my brothers and sister would be safe, but if I can't convince my wife-to-be to agree to the marriage contract, then this would all have been doomed from the start! I don't want to fail them when so much rests on me successfully negotiating this!"

Josephine can feel her thoughts spiraling anxiously as her words came out in an undignified rush, but she can't help herself. A look up at her guest reveals those misty-grey eyes have gone wide with seeming realization of the situation. Josephine's embarrassed that someone has seen her fall apart like this, but she can only give a grateful, watery smile when the other woman pulls out a handkerchief for her, which she uses to delicately dab at her eyes.

"If I could politely inquire," the woman begins quietly, "would you even be happy in this arranged marriage?"

"In time, perhaps," she replies tearfully. "My parents were also an arranged pair, but they grew to love each other greatly. I can only hope the same would be true of my partner and I. Still, I cannot help but envy the Teyrn and Teyrna," she admits.

Stories of The Soldier and The Sea Wolf had been told even all the way in Antiva after all. They had both fought side by side in the war against Orlais, and in its aftermath, they had both chosen to marry each other for love rather than simply as a means to accumulate more power and influence—a concept most rare across Thedas.

"Ah, yes." The other woman seems just as familiar with the couple's history if her gentle smile is any indication. "I suppose they were rather lucky in that regard."

"Most can only hope to be so fortunate."

"Such as yourself, I imagine. It seems as if you're sacrificing a great deal in this betrothal."

But Josephine can only shake her head. "No more than what my parents have already sacrificed to keep my siblings and I safe. If I can ease their stress while also ensuring my brothers and sister will be free from harm, then I would gladly accept this engagement again and again." She absentmindedly twists the fabric of the handkerchief about between her fingers. "I just worry the Teyrn's and Teyrna's youngest daughter won't agree to it. What if she believes I'm not a worthy suitor? What if she doesn't like me?"

"Given the kindness of your heart, I have difficulty believing anyone would find you unlikable," the woman offers reasonably. She cants her head then. "But I imagine that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

Josephine shakes her head. "No. I've never been away from Antiva like this before, and I know I have my siblings here with me, but it's just..." She hiccups before continuing on shakily. "...I'm still very far away from home, and I don't even know anyone here."

As if in reaction to her distress, the pup from earlier whines before doing his best to climb atop her lap to offer comfort. He's still rather uncoordinated, however, and a slip of a back paw immediately leads him to tumbling off it with startled yelp. Josephine can't help but giggle at the sight, but before she can offer to help the friendly little mabari up again, a shadow edges closer. She looks up just in time to see the other woman has quietly closed the distance between them to take a knee in the dirt beside her. Slim fingers wrap around the pup to lift him up, and Josephine has to bite her lip to keep from further laughing as his paws paddle madly in the air, as if attempting to swim his way toward her.

"My lady, I admit I don't have an answer to all of your immediate concerns," she begins, "but if it pleases you, perhaps you'd be interested in having this pup and I as your first friends here in Highever?"

In spite of herself, Josephine finds herself immediately taken in by the warm smile directed her way. Giggles fall effortlessly from her lips when the woman moves the puppy closer toward her—albeit slow enough that Josephine can move herself away if she desires it— allowing him to lick away the remainder of her tears.

As she stares into silver-colored eyes, she can't help but think, Why couldn't it be you I fell for?

---

Of course, there's a hilarious moment when Josephine realizes just who Niamh is when the woman in question sits across the table from her that evening at dinner, especially when she's properly introduced by her parents.

In comparison to her earlier outfit (Niamh had just arrived home from a long voyage and hadn't had a chance to change yet), she's wearing garments more fitting of her station as a Teyrn's daughter.

She looks utterly gorgeous, and there's a moment where Josephine wants to die from embarrassment because she somehow didn't make the connection earlier to Niamh's identity. Of course, her mortification only grows when her seven-year old sister (I'm making up ages for Josephine's siblings at this point) Yvette loudly points it out.

"Josephine, why is your face so red? Are you sick? You look like papa when he drinks too much of the juice at parties."

And then the rest of Josephine's siblings have a little fun at her expense by also teasing her.

Niamh takes the reunion in stride though, effortlessly drawing Josephine and her siblings into conversation throughout dinner, which ends with her asking if Josephine would like to join her for a stroll out to a pond in the garden.

Josephine agrees eagerly.

---

As mentioned earlier, Niamh wasn't at Highever when Josephine and her siblings first arrived weeks earlier. She was out at sea to document the migratory pattern of an endangered marine species. She was actually brainstorming ideas with the Commanders of her research vessels about how to best restore the habitat the creatures had once thrived in when she received a messenger raven from her parents, detailing the plight of the Montilyets, which also required her to return home as soon as possible.

Admittedly, it wasn't the best situation to discover herself in.

Given how busy Niamh is with her usual duties to both sides of her family, she hadn't really given much thought about marriage. She was still thinking about it by the time she arrived at her family's castle, and as a means to further contemplate her choices, she takes a stroll through the garden, offering to the castle's Kennel Master to walk the latest litter of mabari pups about as well.

It's there that she originally finds Josephine, and as she reveals her dilemma, Niamh quickly realizes this is the same woman she's to be potentially betrothed to. Their conversation together quickly cements Niamh's decision about the matter though.

Thus, she agrees to the arranged marriage that same evening, much to Josephine's relief. ��

While Niamh was admittedly hesitant about the idea, the fact that they both seem to care deeply about their respective families sealed the deal for her. She wasn't sure if she'd do anything differently were she in Josephine's position. That, and she could tell that Josephine's genuinely a wonderful woman.

---

When she and Josephine later begin to draft together the contract, Niamh makes it exceedingly lax on her part.

She offers no set marriage date, so the engagement could very well be a years-long one without any real intention of a marriage ever happening. She also has no issue if Josephine chooses to take another lover during their engagement—a fact that scandalizes Josephine when it's brought up.

Niamh, of course, remembers Josephine mentioning how much she still wants to do in life. As such, Niamh's very determined to have Josephine lead as normal a life as possible without much intervention on her part. Although she agreed to the betrothal as a means to help Josephine's family, Niamh always wants her to have a choice, especially in regards to anything she feels most passionate about. Niamh wants her to have the freedom to choose whatever her heart desires even if it means they would eventually break off their engagement, especially if the Montilyets ever successfully restore their name and trading status.

As with any engagement, however, that does require them to spend time together.

Josephine hasn't grown up on a ship quite like Niamh and her family have. That opportunity was long lost to her thanks to the Du Paraquettes' claims against her family before she was even born. She's always held a great love of the water though, and I think Niamh would recognize that easily. As such, she constantly invites Josephine aboard her ship whenever she has to make research trips around Southern Thedas or even beyond it.

Niamh even makes a point of inviting Josephine's siblings along as well to share in the experience. While some would assume it to be an easy way of further ensuring their eventual marriage by earning the affections of her brothers and sister, Josephine realizes that Niamh also wants to make them feel just as welcome.

Yvette, the youngest of all Josephine's siblings, is practically Niamh's shadow, following her about with wide-eyed wonder, completely in awe over the woman who is both a respected Captain as well as an avid scholar and explorer.

Niamh comes to greatly enjoy the company of the Montilyets—Josephine especially. 😏

For Josephine, she finds within Niamh both a friend and a fine partner—someone who can match wits against her with utter charm and aplomb. She's delighted to discover the other woman is also unbelievably sweet.

There are times where Niamh's duties require her to be away from Josephine. Still, Niamh finds various ways to indicate to Josephine she's constantly thinking about her.

Josephine can't stop the way her heart flutters whenever she receives little trinkets by messenger raven from Niamh. They're never anything terribly expensive: a pressed flower, a sketch of something interesting she'd found and wished she could share in person with her, a polished rock that happened to remind Niamh of the color of Josephine's eyes, etc.

It becomes quite evident to everyone else around them that they're both catching feelings for one another. They're both just too nervous to admit it. 🤣

---

Of course, there's brief trouble when rumors run ever rampant in Antiva regarding the Montilyet family. The latest one claims Josephine's parents essentially sold her off in a loveless marriage to a Fereldan sea warlord.

Lord Otranto of Antiva takes exception to this, and in a misguided attempt to save Josephine, his men kidnap her while she and Niamh are visiting Gwaren. Josephine had been strolling through some of the trading stalls while Niamh was busy discussing business matters with Anora. That's likely the only reason Otranto's men are able to get away with it.

Needless to say, Niamh is not the least bit happy when she finds out what happened...

She commandeers one of her aunt's fastest ships to Antiva, and what follows in her wake is a storm the likes the country has never seen before—testament to Niamh's fury and concern over Josephine's well-being.

Her actual confrontation with Otranto is similar to how the duel went down in Inquisition if you romanced Josephine.

---

Despite just debarking an impressive warship, Niamh wanders alone into the courtyard, where both Otranto and a crowd of curious people are waiting.

"Your reputation as the Storm Wolf is as true as they say," Ontranto remarks cautiously before lifting his chin defiantly. "How like a warlord to make their entrance in such violent fashion before a duel has been decided."

"'Violent?'" Niamh parrots almost playfully, but her smile is more a baring of teeth than an actual gesture of amusement. "I had no idea you found a bit of rain to be such a bother. Very well then."

With a simple snap of her fingers, the downpour suddenly stops although the clouds above them are still an ominous grey—a clear indication of Niamh's current mood. Deciding the courtyard was as good a place as any to hold a duel, she sends a small wave of fire—barely ankle-height—across the cobblestones between her and Ontrato with a flick of her wrist, drying the rain that had left them so slick earlier.

"Impressive," he admits grudgingly, "but how do I know you won't resort to using your magic again in this duel?"

"Then feel free to decide the weapons for us," Niamh remarks easily. "I'm a mage, yes, but I am as familiar with just about weapon that can be fought with upon the open seas. In addition to having two formidable warriors as my older siblings, I've also trained with the most seasoned raiders of the past Age across various warships. If that is not assurance enough for you, then let it go on record for all the criers present here that I am a woman of honor." For anyone present, there's little mistaking the absolute chill behind her wintry gaze as she regards her opponent. "And unlike you, I didn't have to steal Lady Montilyet like a thief in the night to earn her affections."

The words cause a rush of murmurs to travel across the ever-growing crowd. In emphasis of her disdain of the man before her, Niamh simply raises the staff she's been holding before slamming it back down with enough force that the staff blade embeds itself clean through the cobblestone as easily as a knife through parchment paper. She leaves it behind her without hesitation as she walks forward, and given how Otranto believes her to be such a violent warlord, Niamh has no qualms about perhaps using her bare hands to fight if the man insists on stalling their duel and keeping her from finding Josephine.

"Now kindly arm yourself, Lord Otranto, so that all of Antiva may see how outmatched you truly are..."

---

I will eventually do a proper fight scene, but let's just say it ends how everyone expects it to. 😂

At the climax, Niamh crosses blades with Otranto before using the strength behind her rapier to push him off. The man presses forward once more, but given she's used to sparring with great sword users like her sister, Niamh places enough power behind a one-handed downswing toward Otranto, who tries to block it, that she manages to snap his blade in half.

Weapon still in hand, Niamh approaches to interrogate him regarding Josephine's whereabouts. Before that even happens, however, Josephine makes her appearance in the courtyard, having successfully escaped the safehouse Otranto's men had been hiding her in.

Josephine begs them both to stop, and although the victor of the duel is already decided, Niamh immediately tosses her rapier away, surprising Otranto.

"You would have forfeited that easily had Lady Montilyet arrived earlier?"

"While it's true that I can bring the heavens and seas to heel beneath my power, I also understand the freedom of surrender to one who is most deserving of it."

And Josephine's heart is pounding in her ears when she recognizes the implication behind Niamh's words. "'Deserving of it?' Do you mean...?"

And that smile never fails to send her heart fluttering as Niamh kneels before her. "Of course. Is it truly such a surprise that I would more than willingly bend the knee to you, Mo Mhuirnín?"

(Note: Mo Mhuirnín is an Irish term of endearment that is phonetically pronounced "Muh Voor-neen" and means "My Beloved.")

So, by this point, Otranto realizes everything he and the rest of Antiva had been told regarding Josephine's relationship with Niamh had been one huge lie by the Du Paraquettes. He's profusely apologetic about the entire thing, but Niamh just graciously waves it off, still riding high on the fact that Josephine returns her love.

The Montilyets do eventually get their name and trading status restored in both Antiva and Orlais after proving the Du Paraquettes had been spreading slander about them from the very beginning. The process of rebuilding will take years if not decades, but Niamh and Josephine are determined to make it work.

Niamh and Josephine are also eventually married with weddings taking place in both Ferelden and Antiva with their respective ceremonials customs involved.

So, yes, I can indeed imagine this pairing to be a very good one. 😉

[typingtess]

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NCIS: Los Angeles Season 13 Rewatch:  "Pandora's Box"

The basics:  A robbery at an art storage facility is connected to Katya.

Written by: Chad Mazero & Lee A. Carlisle  

Chad Mazero co-wrote “Internal Affairs”, “Revenge Deferred” and “Where Everybody Knows Your Name” and “The Noble Maidens”.  Wrote “Tidings We Bring”, “Can I Get a Witness”, “All Is Bright”, “Diamond in the Rough”, “High Society”, “Murder of Crows”, "Overdue" and "Sorry for Your Loss".

Lee A. Carlisle wrote or co-wrote “Golden Days”, “Reentry”, “Into the Breach”, “Concours D’Elegance”, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” and "Sundown".

Directed by: Daniela Ruah directed "Russia, Russia, Russia" and "Lost Soldier Down".

Guest stars of note:  Both Beckett Gunderson as Young Callen and Duncan Campbell as NCIS Special Agent Castor return from “Bonafides”.  Nicky Endres returns from “Provenance” in season 11 as Kim Cho.  Kavi Ramachandran Ladnier joins the show as  NCIS Reserve Agent Shyla Dahr.  Gildart Jackson as Gerard Dupont, Adam Lustick as Hieronymus, Josie Nivar as Pilar, Czarina Mada as Elena Maldonado, Christine Horn as Elliot Reynolds, Aaron Coleman as Ross and Samantha Gangal as Teenage Girl.

Our heroes:  Solve a heist.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Applied for the warrant and was deepfaked into its delay.   Sam: Once again tending to his father. Kensi:  Disappointed Rosa was not at the immigration facility when she and Deeks visited. Deeks: Watched vampire and zombie movies to bond with Rosa. Fatima:  Working with Callen today. Rountree: Jealous of Shyla. Kilbride:  Lied to his son about there being no monsters in this world

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen:  Drives sitting down. Sam:  Absent. Kensi: Not Keith. Deeks: Ab-normcore. Fatima: Bad at restraining Dupont. Rountree: Tried small-talk with Kilbride at the coffee machine. Kilbride:  Has gluten issues.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Not a mention of Hetty but Callen’s Hetty-led Noble Maiden’s past ends the episode.

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi and Deeks are working so hard to be foster parents and so hard to not live and die with every twist and turn in that journey.

Who's down with BrOTP:  In one episode, the Rountree and the Admiral go from being a well-oiled machine working together to a lot of uncomfortable silences.

Fashion review:  Callen is wearing a blue plaid button-down shirt.  Sam isn’t around.  Kensi has on a sweater that that is dark green about 10% down from the top with , down with of grey and pink before becoming off-white.  The color distribution is reflected in the sleeves.  Deeks is wearing a grey sweater.  Pale blue oversized coat for Fatima with an aquamarine turtleneck.  Rountree is wearing a pink sweater because on this show, pink was the color of choice for Deeks and Rountree this season.  Charcoal grey three-piece suit for the Admiral with a crisp white dress shirt and a blue and red tie.  

Music:  “Oh Baby” by LCD Soundsystem is playing as Kensi and Deeks sit with Pilar.

Any notable cut scene:  Again, more extended scenes.

After Callen and Fatima speak to Maldonado for the first time, they discuss the delivery and the plumbers showing up at the same time.  Callen wonders if the plumbing company and the delivery company teamed up for the heist.

As Kensi and Deeks wait in the Admiral’s office, they talk about the only reason he’d call them in.  Kensi sarcastically thinks he going to tell them they are doing a great job in an act of workplace transparency.  Deeks thinks they are getting fired in the mahogany aquarium.  Kensi can’t think of a reason he’d fire them unless he has a reason to fire them.  Deeks will be fine since he always has the “solace of the ocean”.  The Admiral arrives.

After the Rountree-Kilbride gluten-free fried chicken spot scene, Rountree runs into Shyla in the hall.  She thinks he’s in a good mood.  He denies that, “I’m not in a good mood.  You’re in a good mood.”  

Quote:  Kilbride:  “If this is what Katya went through, no wonder she turned out how she did. But why'd she want something like this back so bad?  Hell, why keep it in the first place?” Callen:  “Blackmail? Motivation for revenge? I'll send it to the lab, make sure we didn't miss anything.” Kilbride:  “You know, my son could never sleep as a child. The dark. I lost count of the number of nights I spent trying to convince him that monsters aren't real.  Worst part about this job …knowing it is a lie.”

Anything else:  At an art storage facility, a female staffer is accepting a delivery of yet another balloon dog art piece.  The art is a in a large wooden box. ��As the staffer directs the delivery company where to put the box, she gets a call.  The plumbers are there.  She asks the delivery man to unpack the box.  Keeping his face obscured with a baseball cap and his head down, the delivery man is happy to help.  

Opening the crate, there is no balloon dog art, there are two men wearing black from their ski masked covered heads to their boots.  Both men immediately takes out the security camera.  The delivery man orders his accomplices to “grab what you can” as the two run wild through the facility.  The delivery man has special equipment – he’s stealing something in particular while the others are really just grabbing what they can.  

Closing up the crate with the stolen goods and his accomplices inside, the delivery man almost makes a clean getaway when a male staffer from the facility stops him.  The delivery man tries to explain that he was there to drop something off and to pick something up but without the proper paperwork, the male staffer needs to check out the crate.  The driver shoots the male staffer in the shoulder instead.  In decent shape, the male staffer is able to call for help on his two-way radio.

In the office, the Admiral is making his way to the coffee area.  Rountree follows.  The Admiral is not particularly pleased to be in LA.  While the two listen to the coffee brew, Rountree tries some small talk.  The Admiral is making a “concerted effort to forgive” him for that.  As he leaves without his coffee, the Admiral starts talking to a woman who will bring him his coffee.  Walking past Rountree, she notes he’s sort of Admiral Kill-joy before his morning coffee.  

Rountree asks who she is and the woman replies Shyla Dahr, the Admiral’s new assistant, “sort of.”  Rountree was unaware that Kilbride had an assistant.  Shyla explains she was sent out by the Director to help the Admiral.  Shyla doesn’t understand why Kilbride is anti-LA.  Washington DC is “all backstabbing all the time”.  In LA, you can fit in a Pilates class between betrayals.  Rountree notices a box Shyla has.  It is a humidor full of cigars.  Rountree didn’t know the Admiral smoked cigars.  Shyla thinks he should get to know Kilbride better.

In Ops, Fatima is having a tough conversation with someone who isn’t being helpful.  Ending that conversation with “Warm thanks for nothing,” Fatima takes a call from Callen, asking if they have a case.  Fatima tells him about the robbery at Crusciel & Crusciel, the art storage facility.  Before Callen’s call, Fatima was talking to people at Crusciel & Crusciel and they weren’t helpful.  With a lot of wealthy and powerful clients, Callen knows they will do everything in their power to keep the robbery quiet.  

Fatima thinks it can’t be a coincidence the at facility was robbed just as Callen was getting a warrant for Katya’s storage space.  Callen thinks this gets them into the facility without a warrant – it is a crime scene.  Callen is on his way to Crusciel & Crusciel while Fatima tries to learn more about what happened.  Fatima is about to contact Sam but once again, Sam is out of town tending to his father.  Fatima asks if everything is OK.  Callen isn’t sure but he’s good on handling this alone.  

At an Immigration Center, a worried Kensi arrives with Deeks.  She’s concerned that Rosa won’t want to talk anymore.  Deeks has a back-up plan, binging as many vampire, zombie and sorcerer movies as he could find.  Elliot Reynolds, Rosa’s case manager, approaches Kensi and Deeks.  Rosa is out of the facility and living with an aunt in Barstow.  Reynolds wanted to call Kensi – she and Deeks made arrangements two weeks ago to see Rosa – but is overwhelmed with cases.  Kensi asks if Rosa is going to be OK.  With a good case for asylum and family in the US, Rosa is going to be about as OK as it gets for someone who survived her trip to America Reynolds replies.

In the burn room, a stunned Rountree tells Fatima about the Admiral having an assistant.  Checking out Shyla, Rountree learned while she technically works for Leon Vance, she is also an NSA Analyst.  The two start back to Ops.  As Rountree is talking, the Admiral walks up with Shyla for introductions.  Fatima invites both the Admiral and Shyla into Ops to review their current case.

The start to the robbery security video from the storage facility shows what happened in the teaser.  The team is running the delivery man through facial rec to get an ID.  While the Admiral thinks it is a sad day for the art world – and he actually doesn’t think that – he wants to know why NCIS is involved.  Art is used by criminals to finance crime and terrorism.  Also, Katya was storing something there.  

Shyla is aware of Katya as the “sociopathic powder keg with a murderous appetite for love?”  The Admiral feels she’s more a “giant pain in my ass”.  Crusciel & Crusciel will only provide client numbers for the crates, not the names of the clients or what’s inside.  Katya’s crate was one of the ones stolen according to the crate number on the invoice Callen found in Katya’s safe deposit box.   Rountree suspects Katya has someone in with the feds since she probably knew about the warrant.  With the deepfake technology, Fatima thinks Katya could have posed as anyone to get information from the feds about the warrant.  Shyla has been read into all the Katya deepfake business.   So these three were either the unluckiest thieves ever or Katya is pulling out all the stops to get her stuff back.

When Fatima arrives at the art storage facility, she finds Callen is already there.  With Shyla in Ops, Fatima is free to help Callen.  He found nothing in Katya’s vault.  Fatima is stuck on how the thieves wound up alone in the facility.  Callen is stuck on that too.  They approach Elena Maldonado, the woman who walked in with the delivery man earlier that morning.  Maldonado already spoke to LAPD – one second she was taking a delivery, the next Ross is shot and everything is gone.  

Noting that Maldonado was the only one registering new items that morning, Fatima wants to know if it was normal to leave a delivery man alone in the vault.  It isn’t the right way to do things but they are understaffed and their bathrooms were underwater.  When the plumbers arrived with the delivery people, she had to make a choice.  Since the plumbers gave her a window for their arrival, she didn’t know they were coming at the same time as the delivery.  While looking through her bag for something to calm her down, Maldonado has had enough – she has a board meeting in 20-minutes, a client call after that and she really needs a valium.  

In the fishbowl, the Admiral walks in with Kensi and Deeks waiting for him.  Kensi asks why they are there and is told by the Admiral that’s he’s old.  He doesn’t want to chase the team around the office like a groupie for the Grateful Dead.  Kensi and Deeks are up to speed on the case and since Katya can’t just sell the stolen art at a different gallery, the Admiral is looking for Kensi to get in touch with Kim Cho, her contact in the “off-market” artworld.  Castor is going to bring Cho to the boatshed.  Deeks talks about the wood in the Admiral’s office before realizing it is time to go.  “Toodles!”

Both Rountree and Shyla are getting the runaround.  He’s getting it from Maldonado’s plumbers, Shyla from the person holding the account to bring the fake box in to the storage facility.  Shyla is sure the client is fake.  Facial rec still has nothing on the delivery man.  Shyla, however, knows why the warrant was on hold.  “Callen” called the judge and asked her to hold the warrant until a related case is solved.  Katya used a deep fake to delay the warrant.  

Kensi and Deeks walk into the boatshed where Castor has Kim Cho.  Cho recognizes Kensi as Keith, her former undercover persona and wonders who the normcore with her is.  Kensi explains she’s a fed and normcore Deeks is her partner.  Deeks considers himself ab-normcore.  While unhappy they were played, Cho respects how Kensi worked.  Kensi asks Cho for help.  They ask if helping will put them in danger.  Kensi assure Cho it will not.  Cho seems disappointed.  

Reviewing that happened at Crusciel & Crusciel (“C&C Art Factory” according to Cho), Deeks asks if Cho can help trace the art.  Cho is not sure why Kensi and Deeks are asking for their help.  Kensi reminds Cho that they did exactly that on the last case they worked.  And if he doesn’t help again, they’ll have him arrested.  “I hate you both and I love it,” Cho tells Kensi and Deeks before starting to help them.  

Fatima has the unhappy task of telling Callen about the deepfake situation with the judge.  “She’ll never stop,” Fatima worries aloud.  Not if NCIS can make her stop, according to Callen.  Whatever was in the vault was really important – personal.  By delaying the warrant, Katya was able to buy herself some time to put together a crew to pull off the robbery since she could never show up.  Rountree calls with news.  After speaking to the plumbers, Rountree learned that Maldonado set-up the time for the work to be done, not the other way around.  She paid double to make sure the plumbers would arrive.  Maldonado gets on a big elevator to leave.  Fatima and Callen follow.  “Going down?” Maldonado asks.  “One of us is,” Fatima replies.

Marching Maldonado to a far part of the vault area, Callen and Fatima accuse her of lying to them.  Maldonado says she is under so much pressure – she’s responsible for the millions of dollars-worth of art by her pay is a joke.  “I’m barely scraping by.”  Callen asks about Katya but Maldonado was hired by “some guy” with $15,000.  She stopped asking questions when she got the money.  Her description of the “some guy” was Callen’s age, French – sexy French not angry French – with piercing blue eye.  Callen finds that not very helpful.  

Cho works the phones in the boatshed.  They can’t find anything for sale.  Kensi and Deeks thinks they came up dry but Cho disagrees – if what was stolen isn’t for sale.  Whoever has the art is either sitting on it or it isn’t for sale.  Either way, Kensi and Deeks will have to wait.  When Fatima texts Kensi and Deeks the description of the man who paid Maldonado, Cho has someone who fits the bill – Gerard Dupont.  Dupont was out of the game according to the scuttlebutt Cho heard.  When Kensi asks if Cho knows where Dupont is, Cho reminds Kensi who is the federal agent.

In his office, the Admiral is going on about war and the money spent on the fight and that fight being the reason generations have gotten out of bed every day.  Having survived bullets, bayonets and other artillery, the Admiral tells his doctor he can survive gluten.  Rountree arrives for the end of the call.  Kaleidoscope followed the van from the vault but lost it when it went into a tunnel.  Kaleidoscope 2.0, however, was able to figure out the van driver switched with another vehicle.  That vehicle is now behind a building downtown so Callen and Fatima are on their way.

Shyla has a lot on Dupont for Kensi and Deeks.  In broad daylight, Dupont committed over 50 heists, all without violence.  Dupont tried to steal a statuette of Mercury from the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Belgium and was caught.  Sentenced to five years in prison, Dupont served three and moved to LA to be near his daughter and her husband.  Dupont just became a grandfather.

While never arrested for anything in LA, Dupont is a person of interest in a number of art theft cases including the successful heist of the statuette of Mercury.  He’s been questioned but let go.  Deeks wants to know if Dupont steals for profit or as an addiction.  Shyla has an address so Kensi and Deeks are on their way.  Cho thinks it all sounds so dangerous.  Kensi tells Cho the only thing that’s dangerous in their future is Castor’s barely suppressed road rage.  Castor feels it isn’t his fault that nobody in LA can drive.

In her tactical gear, Fatima enters the shop where the van was found.  She sees a man in the back of the shop who makes a run for the back door.  That’s where Callen is waiting. Fatima recognizes the man – it is Gerald Dupont/the delivery man.  

Handcuffed by Fatima, Dupont is asked about Crusciel & Crusciel.  Dupont knows they are a high end art storage company.  Fatima asks if that’s why he stopped by that morning.  Dupont claims to only know about them by reputation.  Telling Dupont a highly-skilled Frenchman robbed the place that morning, Fatima sees Dupont take off his handcuffs and suggest Gerard Depardieu as a possible culprit.  Fatima is stunned and not about Depardieu.  Explaining there is always an escape, Dupont assures Fatima that handcuffs cannot hold him.  Fatima has zip ties and uses them.

Callen returns.  He did not find the stolen art.  While not denying his past, Dupont tells Callen and Fatima that he’s been in the shop all day.  He’s helping the owners open a pottery shop.  Callen pulls out a pair of overalls that looks a lot like the one the delivery man was wearing.  Dupont asks to see the jacket and puts out his hand.  Fatima swears she double-checked Dupont was secured.  

Dupont says they are generic overalls – thousands of them are floating around the city.  Fatima now has duct tape.  Callen brings up the male staffer – the dock master – who will survive his gunshot wound.  He could ID the man who shot him.  Fatima brings up Dupont’s past again – he never used a gun in the past.  Dupont sticks to his story.

Pulling up to Dupont’s home, Kensi and Deeks have a warrant to go in.  Inside the house is a lot of art all over every flat space.

Rountree updates the Admiral that Dupont isn’t talking and that Kensi and Deeks haven’t found much in his home.  The Admiral doesn’t really thinks that’s an update.  As he doesn’t leave, Rountree says “Pikunico”.  The Admiral answers “bless you” (which is funny).  Pikunico is a Japanese fried chicken place that is gluten-free.   “Just as good as the real thing” and that means a lot coming from Rountree, a guy who grew up in Texas.  The Admiral threatens to end Rountree if he shares the gluten diagnosis with anyone.  “The last thing I need is for anyone to think this city has gone to my head.”  He then thanks a departing Rountree.

At Dupont’s home, Kensi is angry.  Dupont had no issue getting into the US as a convicted criminal but Rosa, who was a victim of a crime, is fighting to stay while locked up in a shelter.  While Kensi and Deeks are talking, Deeks notices a hat on a little statuette.  It is the stolen Mercury.  Holding up a photo of Dupont’s daughter and grandchild, Kensi thinks they can leverage them to get him to cooperate or be sent back.  

Claiming he picked up the Mercury statuette at a garage sale in Reseda, Dupont is still trying to get out of his duct tape handcuffs.  Five years and an early release is a kind sentence but the Dutch government may not be as kind to a repeat offender.  And of course it would be Belgium prison, taking him out of the life of his child and grandchild.  Cooperation means he could stay with his family.  

Dupont said he was a middleman in the robbery.  He was hired by a woman named Irina Feodorovna.  Callen confirms that is one of Katya’s aliases.  Dupont was given very specific instructions on what vault to hit.  Asked what he stole, Dupont said it was nothing he recognized.  Asked where it was, Dupont is evasive.  He admits that Katya was thinking small.  He made a better deal.  Callen tries to explain to Dupont just how tough Katya is.  

Dupont give up the buyer, who uses the name “Hieronymus”.  Callen wants Dupont to set up a meet with Callen playing a possible buyer.  When Dupont tells Callen that Hieronymus would not just meet with Callen, Callen decided he would meet with Callen and Dupont.  Rountree will be teamed with Fatima.  He’ll also bring a suit for Callen to wear.

A suited Callen and Dupont go into a warehouse to meet Hieronymus.  Fatima and Rountree are set-up in the roach coach.  Callen goes in as Mr. Carl.  Hieronymus is surprised to see Dupont so soon.  Dupont agrees.  Fatima warns Callen that the meet won’t be a private one.  It isn’t – it is an auction.  Crypto only.  As a friendly warning, Hieronymus tells Callen to be aggressive.  He expects big sales.

In the roach coach, Fatima and Rountree run facial rec on the others at the auction.  Gang and drug cartel members are there.  Rountree asks if they should move in but the Admiral has them hold off.  Callen really hasn’t seen any of the art.  The REACT Team is 15-minutes out, Kensi and Deeks are behind them.  

As the auction begins, Dupont doesn’t recognize any of the art from the vault.  One of the buyers calls the art “rubbish”.  Hieronymus says one of the pieces is counterfeit.  Dupont realizes he’s been exposed and starts with leave with Callen in tow.  Pulling a weapon, Hieronymus stops them.  He thinks it is odd that Dupont showed up at the auction with a complete stranger after trying to pass off “rubbish” as great art.  At this point Rountree yells federal agents and all hell breaks loose.  Callen wrestles the gun away from Hieronymus.  Fatima jumps one of the bodyguards while Rountree ends a shootout by dropping some fancy rugs on the shooter.

The REACT Team gets most of the fleeing buyers.  Dupont, however, disappeared.  Callen hopes for they catch him before Katya finds him.  Asking LAPD to bring Hieronymus over, Callen wants to know which piece was from Katya’s vault.  None of them were – what was in the vault was worthless.  He tossed it with the crating.  Callen finds a film reel marked “Pembrooke”.

Back at the Immigration Center, Kensi and Deeks wait for Elliot Reynolds, who called them back with news.  Reynolds arrives – Rosa is fine – but Rosa gave one of the other young girls something for Kensi.  Pilar arrives with a Rosa’s gift, a Muñeca quitapena.  It is a worry doll.  They are made in the town in Guatemala where Pilar and Rosa grew up.  That common background helped them become friends when they were at the Center.    

Holding the doll, Pilar explains that if Kensi tells her troubles to the doll, it will help solve her problems.  Pilar brought hers from home but lost it on the trip.  Kensi offers Pilar the doll instead.  Pilar asks Kensi if Rosa was telling the truth, that she was a superhero.  Kensi smiles for the first time in the episode.  Deeks is smiling too.  Deeks explains on a slow day that Kensi can do what Superman does.  Kensi and Deeks asks Pilar if she wants to hang out.  She would like that.   Pilar just saw a vampire-sorcerer-werewolf movie and Deeks has opinions.

With Dupont in the wind, Shyla put some protection on his daughter and grandchild in case Katya wants revenge.  The Admiral is grateful for Shyla’s help.  Shyla pushed the Admiral – he’s been in LA long enough that he doesn’t hate all of it.  “Well, that will be a cold day in hell.”  Seeing Callen in Hetty’s office, the Admiral sends Shyla on her way.

Loading up the projector, Callen and the Admiral watch what Katya stored so securely.  Four teenage Noble Maiden are on the screen.  When directed, one punches another before the other girls  join in on pounding the one girl.  When the beating knocks the girl to the ground, she’s ordered to stand up and take some more.  She does.  

The Admiral turns off the projector.  This treatment goes a long way to explain how Katya wound up being the way she is.  What he doesn’t understand is why she protected it so zealously.  Why didn’t she burn it?  Callen isn’t sure.  Blackmail, maybe motivation for revenge.  The Admiral remembers his son as child being afraid of monsters.  While the Admiral assured the boy there were no monsters in this world, he knew he was lying.

After the Admiral leaves, Callen watches some more.  He flashes back to being hit when he failed at an assignment he was given as Subject 17.  He was called “17 and told the same thing the young women were told in the video – “pain is just a state of mind.”

What head canon can be formed from here:  Not much of an episode.  Shyla is a keeper but beyond that, it was a generic case and not a very good one.  The personal scenes – Kensi and Deeks at the Immigration Center – were fine but nothing great here.

The Rountree-Kilbride scenes were weird.  They were in near perfect sync in “Bonafides” but here it was awkward for no real reason.  When did Rountree, who seems to only care about his sister, his job and sports – in that order – suddenly get interested in office gossip, chatting and managing up?

The final speech about monsters from Kilbride is another reminder on why this program has thrived with older actors who just bring so much weight to scenes like this.  Linda Hunt is irreplicable but Gerald McRaney was the perfect addition.

Episode number:  This is episode 14 of season 13.  It is the 294th episode of the season

[bush-viper-cutie]

Guinea Pig Adventures: Curse of the Friendly Tickles

Pairing: young!severus x reader

Word Count: 1,609

Request: “Headcanon with young Severus x reader where the reader has guinea pigs that she brought to hogwarts and the guinea pigs follow the reader around and wheek in happiness with they see Severus” - anon

Warnings: cuteness overload

A/N: Soooo, I didn’t know how to write a headcanon for this XD please enjoy this lil story instead! :D

Posted: 2/15/21

Masterlist

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One, two, three… oh dear… you were missing one weren’t you? You knew it had been a bad idea to bring your guinea pigs to Hogwarts but you couldn’t help it! Look at how cute they were! Lyla, the little black one was so cuddly, how could you leave her behind? And Bow? With his little orange and brown spots and his love of pets? Or Luie and June? The cutest little twin combo you’d ever seen? There wasn’t a reason in the world to leave them behind… well… except…

“Are you ready?” your partner, Severus Snape, Mr. Irritable himself, snapped in your direction.

Why would Professor Kettleburn pair him with you? You were his best student in all the year, how could he do this? You always raised your hand, always answered his questions, always volunteered, and how did he reward you? By forcing you to work with someone who definitely didn’t want to work with you on a care of magical creatures assignment that involved long hours of working together!

You scratched your head and looked again in the cage you had brought with you. There were definitely only three guinea pigs here, and Lyla was the one missing. “Um, Severus?”

Severus turned his scrutinizing gaze your way. Among the large leafs and tall foliage of the greenhouse, he looked very much like a poisonous plant, dressed in nearly all black. He held his books tighter in his hands and frowned. “What.”

“One of my guinea pigs is missing, we can’t leave the greenhouse yet.”

He shut his eyes, very annoyed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, getting the sand otter to even poke his head out will take hours, let alone getting him to change colors.” He looked back up at you and down at the cage. “We only need one.”

You gasped and heard identical squeaking from the cage that you were sure were little gasps of shock. You shook your head. “No. We’re not leaving Lyla. And what happens if we open the door and she runs out?”

He let out a frustrated growl. “You should have taken better care of your animals! Or better yet, you should have only brought ONE!” He marched up to the table and picked up the seeds you both had collected from several plants to feed the otter in the hopes of luring him out. “I’m going to get started, and if at any moment you’d like to help me complete our task, please don’t hesitate to join.”

He stormed back to the door and you held out your hand. “Wait!” He glared at you, making you wince. He had a point, somewhat. You needed to get started and… besides, Lyla hates not being around her friends. Maybe if she thought she was alone, she’d reveal her hiding place. “Ok, your right.”

A single dark eyebrow raised on his face.

You sighed. “You get started and take the other three. I’ll stay here a few minutes just to look around one last time.”

Severus rolled his eyes but released the knob of the door. “Fine,” he grumbled. He walked back, pulled his sleeves up, and picked up the cage. “But if I get the otter to show himself and change colors, I won’t be putting your name on the report.”

You nodded and watched him awkwardly take the large cage to the door and struggle with the doorknob. His long arms wrapped around the cage clumsily as he balanced his books on top, where the cage’s handle was. You refrained from laughing as he toed the door open and squeezed his way through. His fuming and hostile exterior while carrying a cage full of adorable little creatures really made his struggle an amusing sight to behold.

The door shut and you watched through the dirt stained greenhouse windows as he waddled towards one of the inflatable kiddie pools filled with sand. He set down the cage carefully and sat on the grass with crossed legs. You turned your attention to the greenhouse floor and began searching for your adventuring little girl.

“Lyla, your missing out,” you teased. You looked back out and saw Severus opening the cage door and placing June on the sand. “They’re all having fun out there, meeting new people, playing in warm sand…” You heard a rustle and followed the sound to a little fern on the ground where two little eyes looked up at you. “Hello there, little Miss. Would you like me to bring you back to your friends?”

She hopped down from the pot and ran to your shoes, squeaking excitedly. You picked her up and smiled. “Nothing keeps you from a new adventure, isn’t that right?” She squeaked happily in your hands as you kissed her little head and headed out of the greenhouse. “Now let’s – ”

You stopped on the grass, eyes wide, as you took in the situation. The sand otter, golden yellow with little freckles of pinks, browns, and oranges, sat on its haunches enjoying the sight of Severus Displeased-With-Everyone Snape struggled to contain his laughter while three little furry bodies climbed all over his robes. Luie was licking Severus’ neck, dodging his hands to his other shoulder to wiggle his whiskers on his cheek. Bow was running in and out of Severus’ pant legs, avoiding being shaken off by climbing up into his shirt. And June was holding strands of coal-black hair in his attempt to stay sprawled on top of Severus’ head.

Finally, unable to hold it in anymore, Severus barked out a laugh that unleashed a flurry of giggles. He was down on the ground now, struggling to contain the three traitorous guinea pigs from running all over him with soft little paws.

In your hands, Lyla struggled to get free and you put her down, running alongside her on the grass. You stopped before Severus and kneeled next to him. “Do you need any help?” You tried holding back your own giggles but gave in as Lyla started licking his nose.

“Please!” he laughed.

You took each one off him and placed them in the sand to play with the otter. He breathed in and huffed out air as he laid on the grass still, trying to catch his breath. You were still smiling down at him. You hadn’t ever thought it possible that Severus could have such a fun side to him. Sure, he very much had tried to stop the storm of tickles, but he didn’t seem very mad. In fact, he looked positively happy. He looked up at you and blushed, and for several seconds you held his gaze with a grin of your own. It was nice to sit in the grass, forget about school, and just enjoy the day.

Voices sounded from a distance, and as if remembering where he was, Severus quickly sat up and fixed his face sternly. “We did it,” he said, picking up his books. “I’ll write up the report tonight and put your name on it.” He picked up June, Bow, Luie, and Lyla and placed them in their cage.

You nodded. Seeing the sudden difference between Severus’ happy self and his serious self made your head swirl. If only that moment had lasted a bit longer. If only you could have looked down at his smile and glowing eyes longer, sharing in the joyfulness of life. You would never look at him the same again knowing this other side of him existed.

He stood just as other students made their ways to the other little sand pools. You stood as well, brushing grass off your skirt, and picked up the cage by the handle since you didn’t have long arms like him. Together, in awkward silence, you headed back to the castle.

When you reached the steps he stopped to face you but avoided your eyes. There was a light blush still present on his cheeks. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.

You nodded, knowing how precarious his situation was. He already got picked on, and if you told anyone that there was a softer side to him they’d surely take it as weakness and try to exploit it for their own amusement. “I promise I won’t,” you reassured him.

He nodded but before he could take another step you caught his wrist. He turned and his mouth opened a small bit from shock by the strange intimacy that was quickly forming between you. You twisted the cage to your back side and took a step closer.

“I really liked seeing that side of you, Severus… and… I’d like to get to know all sides of you.”

His mouth still hung open but his face was slowly turning bright pink again. You smiled at him and stood on your toes, placing your hand on his shoulder for support, and gave him a peck on the cheek. You pulled back and giggled at his obvious delight by your kiss.

He shut his mouth and grinned from ear to ear. His eyes scanned your surroundings and after making sure there was no one nearby, he gave your cheek a quick kiss in return. “Do you… want to sit with me while I write our report?”

“I’d love to.”

He took the cage in his arms again and the guinea pigs squeaked with delight, rushing to the cage bars to lick Severus’ fingers lovingly. He bit his lip quickly, stifling a giggle and looked your way shyly. Unable to stop yourself, you kissed his cheek on last time before calming your little babies with promises that Severus would play with them again soon.

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Masterlist

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General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot

@bionic-otp

—–

[little-murmaider]

Well @offdensmith ‘s Nategaar OTP answer and @frienderbender ‘s Skwisgaar in therapy comic have me feeling A Way so!!!! Also thank you @insomniac-pens for edits!

“How’d it go?”

Skwisgaar flopped onto Nathan’s bed face-first, his prolonged groan muffled by the mountain range of pillows. 

“That bad, huh?” 

Closing his book on a faded Burzums receipt, Nathan knuckled aside Skwisgaar’s hair and massaged the back of his neck. Skwisgaar hummed in appreciation.  

“Hads to talks about Little Skwisgaar.” 

“Ugh, I hate when he makes me do that.”

Rolling onto his side, Skwisgaar scooched up to rest his head on Nathan’s shoulder. “He says dat’s de best ways to work throughs my.” He waggled his fingers. “Childhood traumas.”

“Always with the childhood trauma, that guy! It’s like, we get it, we all have an alarming number of unaddressed psychological issues, move on!”

“Pfft, ja. Gets dis, today he says dat my needs to appear as dis untouchables closed off cool guys stems from my fears of emotional intimacys, ands was likelys a copingks mechanism developed durings a volatile childhoods wif a narcissistic and neglectful parent.” He coughed, fingers thrumming against Nathan’s collar bone. “Or somet’ings likes dat.” 

“He can cope with this mechanism!” He palmed his crotch. “Did you say that? That’s what I would have said. If it was me. And I was there.”

Nathan expected a laugh. Dick-based punchlines were a guaranteed laugh from Skwisgaar; for all his posturing, he had the comedic sensibilities of a middle schooler. But Skwisgaar didn’t laugh. Instead, he looped an arm across Nathan’s waist, curling his knees into himself like a moon shell.  

“Cans I stays here for a little bits?” He murmured. 

A cold, disarming pulse rocketed through Nathan’s bloodstream.

“Uhhhhhhhhh yeah dude. Yeah. Yeah.” He leaned toward the night stand, hand hovering over the remote. “You want to put something on, or…?”

Skwisgaar shook his head. “Dat’s okay. I just…”

The arm draped over him curved tighter around his body, hand splaying against his ribs.

“…Wants to be wif you, rights now.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

Thumbing away his makeshift bookmark, Nathan tried to pick up where he left off, the book’s spine digging a divot into his palm as he balanced his wrist on Skwisgaar’s shoulder. He found himself scanning the same passage over and over, unable to focus through the fog of confusion that had settled over his senses. This was…weird. He didn’t know why it was weird, or what to do to make it less weird. He’d never been good at reading these kind of situations. (Or, according to That Guy, he lacked emotional literacy or whatever, he was working on it whatever!) Best he could do was stew in the weirdness, let it simmer around him until it broke down into a delicious broth of normal. Had he missed second lunch? How soon was dinner? Was it too late to ask Jean-Pierre for soup?

Wetness seeped through the material of Nathan’s shirt. He smirked. Skwisgaar must have dozed off—the trickle writhing down Nathan’s chest must have been his drool. Gross, but not an uncommon occurrence. For some reason Skwisgaar was most relaxed when the two of them were alone. It puffed Nathan’s ego with a misguided pride, that the most tightly-wound person in the world unraveled with him.  

But that pride vanished the moment he realized Skwisgaar was crying.

Technically, he shouldn’t have been shocked. Technically, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Skwisgaar cry. There had been plenty of stress-induced meltdowns; plenty of shaky insistences he was TOTALLY HIGH as globs of corpse paint dribbled off his cheeks. This wasn’t like that. This was new, and rare, and required a delicacy way above Nathan’s emotional pay grade. Oh God. He was going to fuck this up so bad. He was going to destroy Skwisgaar, destroy their friendship, destroy the band and, much less importantly, destroy the global economy. Oh God oh God he was going to fuck this up so bad! The book tumbled from his fingertips, his body on autopilot. One hand snaked through the rolling golden waves of Skwisgaar’s hair. The other anchored between Skwisgaar’s shuddering shoulder blades. Feeling Skwisgaar’s hitching sigh of relief, Nathan’s panic settled. Against the odds, he’d stumbled into the correct reaction. He did something right.   He gathered Skwisgaar closer, the rhythm of his sobs mirroring the beat of Nathan’s heart.

Time grew hazy. Nathan was unsure how long they laid there, how long he held him. Long enough that when Skwisgaar wriggled out of his grip and rocked onto his knees Nathan’s arms ached at the absence.

“H’okays.” Fixing Nathan with a watery smile, he swept at his cheeks with a flourishing flick of his wrists, eyes bright as heat lightning. (Once he’d confided when he was little his mom would purposely make him cry because she loved how deeply blue it made his eyes. He’d shared it as though it was a wacky, hilarious anecdote but it left Nathan with nothing but a gutting sadness.) “I’m normal nows.”

Nathan bobbed his chin. “Sick.” Sick? He’d never said sick in his life, why did he choose to do so now? What was the matter with him? What the hell was emotional literacy???

Skwisgaar raked his hair back from the roots, lips twisting as if he were considering the notes of a wine. Nathan anticipated a bailout. He waited for the half-baked dismissal of what occurred, the flimsy excuse to leave, the tacit agreement to never speak of it again. But when he spoke, Skwisgaar said, softly, “t’anks you.” Nathan balked. “For what?” “Dere amn’ts a lots of people I cans...does dat wif. Most times I just does it by myselfs. But.” His gaze lowered, shyness coloring his smile as a flush colored his cheeks. “Ams really happy I haves you.” Nathan’s face heated, an unfamiliar pressure building behind his sinuses. He felt his lips part and waited for his brain to push something ruinous to fall out of them. Before he had the chance, he curved his hands around the back of Skwisgaar’s neck, drew him back down into the bed. They melted into each other and kissed until their jaws ached.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Good Things Come to Those Who Talk

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, but the muse visited this week, so here is a fluffy and smutty Captain Swan one shot. I’m sure this trope has been written one millions ways, here is one million and one. Hope you like it. Although I am not around as much as I used to be, CS still remains my OTP and always will. 

ao3          ffnet          rated M          8.9K

Summary:  Emma Swan is so over her brother, he warns every cop he knows to stay away from her. She's pined for so long though, she wants Killian Jones, it's just double bad luck that he's a cop and he happens to be David's partner. She decides her brother's wrath is worth the risk to find out if there's something more for her and Killian. Now all she needs is a new dress and a plan.

“Emma Swan, you little slut! What has gotten into you?” Ruby screeched as Emma pulled the door to her home open.

“Is it too much?” Emma asked with just a touch of hysteria coloring her voice. She hurried back to her bedroom to give herself the once over… again. Running her hands down the newly purchased, skin tight, black mini dress, she followed each and every curve that was on full display.

“Girl, I would do you if I didn’t already have a girlfriend.”

“Not helping, Ruby!” 

“Emma, you look fucking hot, there is not a man on earth that could turn you down in that.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she mumbled under her breath. Tonight was the night. She’d danced around the longing and heat between her and Killian Jones for long enough. She’d been pining for this man for longer than she could remember, half the time they spent together felt like they were a couple anyway. She already knew her stupid brother, David, had warned Killian Jones to stay away from her, but there was nothing stopping her from putting the moves on Killian Jones. She just hoped Ruby was right, that no man would be able to resist her, including the one who’d been threatened with death if he so much as laid one finger on her. Emma was undeniably hoping for far more than one finger. A shiver jolted through her and she was brought back to the present.

“Someone’s got it baaaad,” Ruby teased. “You gonna make your move tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Emma said as she grabbed her knee length black leather jacket and tied it closed. She pulled her flowing, golden tresses from the jacket and tossed them over her shoulders. 

“Well then let’s get this party started!” With that, Ruby grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the house and out the door. 

The Rabbit Hole was their favorite local pub, and the only place to celebrate the hot shot detectives who’d made the biggest bust this city had ever seen. Of course it was the hot shot team of Detectives Nolan and Jones to bring down the infamous Robert “The Deal Maker” Gold and his outfit of miscreants. Earlier this morning, both men had received the Medal of Valor, for extraordinary acts of bravery and heroism, performed in the line of duty at extreme life-threatening, personal risk, their Captain had said. 

Emma remembered that day three weeks ago, when she’d received the call from her sister-in-law. The baby had been wailing in the background as Mary Margaret had tried to tell Emma, through choked sobs that David was in the hospital. No doubt the little guy had been so upset because his mama was having a justified meltdown. 

When Emma had arrived, Killian was in the waiting room, a little bloodied, bruised, and banged up, but he’d insisted on waiting for her before letting the doctors examine him. He’d wanted to let her know that David was in surgery, but he’d be okay, and Mary Margaret had just left to drop her two year old off at Belle’s so he didn’t have to wait in the ER. It wasn’t until Killian’s body had slumped against hers that Emma realized he wasn’t doing as well as he’d pretended. She’d found out later, Killian had been hit by Gold’s car as the fiend had tried to make a run for it. 

Emma doesn’t like to think about the panic she’d felt as he was hauled behind the swinging doors of the ER. She doesn’t like to remember the tears that had fallen when the thought that she’d never gotten to tell him how she felt for him, crossed her mind. She especially doesn’t like to think about how he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks now, and she’d still been too chicken shit to even ask him out on a date, let alone tell him that she’s crazy about him. 

Once Killian’s internal bleeding had stopped and he was cleared to go home, she’d helped him convalesce through a dislocated shoulder and severely bruised ribs. He’d gotten remarkably lucky considering he was hit by a car. Hours of flirting and bantering, movies on his couch, meals together, and she hadn’t scraped together the courage to tell him how she felt. She’d picked him up and attended the medal pinning with him today, and still she couldn’t find any words to tell him how she felt. When he’d come down off the stage, walked toward her and scooped her up into a bear hug, all she’d come up with was how proud she was of him. Even though it was true, there was so much more she wanted to say. And she’d known long before any of this had happened, she’d just never considered moving past her fear of rejection or risking their friendship for a chance at something more until she’d felt like she might lose him. 

That thought made her feel pretty shitty. But that’s when she’d decided a few things. Emma Swan was shit with words. Actions speak louder than words. Tonight was the night. And she needed a new dress. 

Taking a deep breath as the car pulled into the parking lot, to center her thoughts, fortify her determination, and get her collective shit together, Emma stepped out of Ruby’s car with something akin to hope.   

Upon entering the noisy bar, she searched for the woman who’d be lending her an assist tonight. Regina and her husband Robin, a retired police officer, now owned this bar. They were close personal friends with Emma’s brother’s family, as David’s former partner, and by extension, with the whole group. Regina would be the one taking care of their party tonight. Emma needed to square some drinking details away with the woman and then she’d be mission ready. After talking to Regina, she glanced around the crowded bar, searching for the man of the hour. Whatever confidence or hope had been building, promptly deflated as she located Killian, only to find him sitting at the bar with some handsy redhead whispering in his ear. 

“Emma!” She heard Mary Margaret’s voice call out from across the bar, but she couldn’t turn, she was transfixed, watching as the woman ran a finger along Killian’s jawline. It gave her just an ounce of pleasure when he removed her hand from his vicinity and placed it on the bar. The mystery woman was undeterred though as she placed her hand on his chest next. 

Mary Margaret called her name again, louder this time, and Emma noticed it caught Killian’s attention as he began to scan the bar. When his eyes met hers, they immediately lit up and he mouthed the word help, with desperation in his every feature. Emma’s confidence restored, she sashayed toward him with renewed determination. 

Goddamn, she thought as she appreciated how Killian’s royal blue button down shirt and black slacks were tailored to his body.  She bit down on her lip when she noted that he definitely had his customary one too many buttons undone and was displaying that magically delicious thatch of chest hair she’d imagined running her hands through just a couple times. Sauntering right in between the two, she settled in the spot of his perpetually manspread legs and placed her palms on his thighs, leaving her back to the other woman.

“Hey Sexy, where’ve you been all my life?” she asked in the sexiest tone she could muster while also trying not to crack up as she laid it on thick for the woman trying to steal her man. What?

“Right here, waiting for you, love,” Killian answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. The man didn’t miss a beat. 

Emma couldn’t be bothered to feel bad as she rubbed her palms over his muscular thighs which currently rested on her hips. She had a mission tonight, and this floozy behind her had been throwing herself at Killian.

“I’m so lucky someone didn’t come and scoop you up before I got here.”

Emma almost melted when he came right back with, “No one else is you.”

She knew this man, had known him for several years. She knew when he was playing a long con, when he was bullshitting, when he was joking, when he was serious, and when he was sincere. Her heartbeat stuttered as his earnest expression dared her to believe him. Just at that moment, the drinks Killian had ordered arrived. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the three beer bottles in one hand and taking his hand in her other. 

“Let me order a couple more, now that the rest of you are here.”

Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And leave you at the mercy of Hands, I don’t think so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Killian actually shivered, and she wondered how bad it had gotten before she’d arrived. When she stepped back though, she noticed a bright flush along Killian’s cheeks, and she wondered if she wasn’t causing that shiver and blush. “I’ll order when the server comes around.” 

Emma was positively rippling with anticipation of what Killian would think of her dress as they walked over to the private room Mary Margaret had reserved for tonight. The bar had several private rooms off each corner of the bar, they were a little less noisy, and perfect for celebratory drinks. This one had a large round booth and table in it, so Emma slid in next to her brother, pulling Killian in behind her. Strategically speaking, she was hoping David couldn’t stare daggers at Killian from this angle, like he always did when Emma and Killian were hanging out and getting too close for his comfort. She didn’t need her stupid brother ruining her plans.

“Here love, you can have this beer,” Killian offered as they sat down.

“That’s okay, I can wait for the server.” Emma was not in the mood to get drunk, at least not drunk for real. “Are Will and Belle still coming tonight?” Emma asked as she untied her jacket and leaned forward to take it off while still seated in the confines of the booth. 

Killian audibly choked on the swig of beer he’d been taking when he caught a glimpse of all the skin Emma was now showing. One false move and there could be a nip slip, really.

“Hey, Jones, you okay there buddy? Emma, quick, give him mouth to mouth, he’s choking,” she harassed. 

Emma shot her a look before slapping Killian on the back a couple times. “My ribs,” he croaked once he’d finished hacking and coughing. 

Emma preened as she noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, turning fully toward Killian as she soothingly rubbed her hand along his rib cage.

“Love your new dress, Ems,” Ruby exclaimed, adding fuel to multiple fires.

“New dress? Are you sure you got the whole thing?” David fumed. “Looks more like a tank top to me. And yes, to answer your question from before, Will and Belle are coming, their Lyft was running late.”

Emma looked over her shoulder to scowl at her brother, and he scowled right back. “I happen to like this dress, David,” she said, saying his name as pettily as any sister could, “what about you Killian. Do you like my new dress?”

Killian’s hand immediately shot up to scratch behind his ear, but before he could even speak a word, David leaned forward, peered around Emma and stared those oh so familiar daggers at Killian. 

“Oh stop it, David,” Mary Margaret chided her husband. 

“Oi mates, hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Will shouted as he and Belle entered the room. He and Belle scooted into the booth next to Ruby and Mulan, and Emma was thankful they’d arrived before David could start ranting about not wanting his sister to date a cop.  

Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Ruby had all been promised a play by play of the Gold bust now that the case was finalized, Gold had been sentenced, and everyone was healed. Will and Mulan hadn’t been injured, but they’d been part of the task force, and instrumental in the take down. Emma tried not to concentrate too hard on the fact that she was the only female here who wasn’t technically a significant other. Besides, maybe that would change after tonight.  

A round of shots was ordered to start the evening and Regina brought them to the table, handing a shot of rum to each guest. They toasted to the takedown of the felon who had run rampant like a virus, for far too long. The story was intense to be sure, and a second round of shots was ordered to toast the health and safety of David, Killian, Mulan, and Will.  

When the live band started, they headed for the dance floor and Emma was thankful to have a bit of privacy, albeit in the middle of a crowded dance floor, with Killian. “You cut quite the figure in that dress,” he whispered into her ear. 

The band was covering a latin number and Emma melted as Killian pulled her in close. His left hand was on the small of her back and the other held her free hand. Her free hand rested on his chest, right at the juncture of his too unbuttoned shirt. 

“I don’t know exactly how to do this… dance,” Emma mumbled as Killian began to move his feet. They were connected at their hips as they swayed with the beat. 

“It’s called a mambo; there’s only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d danced with him before and it never ceased to amaze her how well the man could move his body. If he was this fluid and skilled while dancing, what could he do in bed? 

“I can see your mind working, Swan. What are you thinking about?”

Emma tried to stop the blush, but she’d definitely been caught ogling him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Perhaps I would,” he admitted while sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are blushing,” he added as he trailed the finger down her cheek.

“I was just thinking, if you’re this good on the-” Emma’s breath was knocked from her as David and Mary Margaret careened into them. 

“Hey guys,” David shouted over the music, “time for shots.”

Emma just barely stopped herself from yelling at her brother to stop being a cockblock. Instead, she settled for stomping on his foot as she led Killian off the dancefloor. They all lined up at the bar and Regina doled out more shots. 

“I’m ready to go home,” Emma slurred into Killian’s shoulder several hours later. “Take me home?”

“Aye, love.”

“I thought Ruby was your ride,” David interrupted.

“No can do, Davey,” Ruby mumbled. “Me and my baby are staying at the hotel across the street so we don’t have to drive and we don’t have to come back for the car tomorrow. 

“We will take you home,” David proclaimed, as if someone had died and made him king.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re already taking Belle and Will home,” Mary Margaret told her husband. “Killian hasn’t been drinking for the last two hours, he can take Emma home.”

“Bu-” David started.

“I know we have five seats, but we don’t need to squish five adults into them, when Killian can give Emma a ride.”

Emma snickered at the way Mary Margaret effortlessly handled David.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” David muttered. 

After the group said their goodbyes, Emma let Killian lead her to his truck. She pretended to need much more help getting in than she really did. Under the guise of being drunk, Emma found she was much braver. If he turned her down, she could always pretend she was so drunk she didn’t remember, and if he was a gentleman, which he was, he’d never mention it. 

Reaching across the space between them, Emma brushed the hair away from his forehead. “I was so worried about you when you were in the hospital,” she whispered, making sure to slur a word here and there.

“I’m sorry I worried you, lass, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, Killian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, in your inebriated state, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine, but I am sure you’d manage.”

“What a horrible thing to say! I would not be okay if I lost you, I would never be okay.”

Killian clasped his hand over hers, which had been idly stroking his cheek. “Shhh, love, there’s no need to discuss this topic anyway. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s surviving.” 

Killian pulled into her driveway and hastily exited to help her down from the truck. She definitely put more weight on him than was strictly necessary and sloppily handed him the keys to unlock her door. 

“Someone is going to be feeling like shite in the morning,” Killian laughed. 

Emma played it up, and allowed Killian to get Tylenol and water for her as she stripped out of her dress and hopped into her bed. 

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he checked as he set her hangover supplies on her nightstand.

Emma caught his hand as he went to put it in his pocket. “Stay with me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Emma asked sweetly, looking up at him with all the hope she felt inside written clearly on her face.

Killian exhaled a long sigh as only a man who knows he’s lost can. Circling around the bed, he started to climb in behind her. 

“You’re not going to sleep in jeans, are you?”

“I don’t exactly have sleepwear at my disposal, Swan. And you’re sleeping in your dress.”

Emma laughed at that, that’s what he thinks. “Take off your jeans, boxer briefs are just like shorts.” She grinned triumphantly as she heard the metal of his belt and the rustling of pants being dropped. 

Once he was settled in her bed, she turned over and snuggled against him. The groan he emitted when she did so shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. She knew he was just as affected as she was, and that was hot. 

“Emma, please, you’re making it very hard fo-”

“That’s kinda the point,” she giggled, pressing her body against his and snaking her free hand into the opening of his shirt to rake it through his chest hair. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” 

“Poor choice of words,” he corrected as he scooted away from her advances. “We can’t do this.”

Emma immediately felt the sting of his words in her chest, like someone was gripping her heart, or worse, like someone had taken it and she was hollow. A flurry of emotions ran through her as she tried to assure herself she still had her failsafe of “being drunk”. She searched for words. “Why? Because of my stupid brother?” she demanded, her voice a little more watery than angry.

“This has nothing to do with your brother, Swan.”

“Then… why?” Emma sat up in bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her body, as if they’d protect her from whatever hurtful reason he had for not wanting her.

“Because you’re drunk and-”

“Well-” Emma interrupted.

“No, wait, let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.”

Emma frowned at him, but complied by sitting quietly.

“You’ve been drinking all night love, and I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of you in this state and then you regretted it in the morning, if you regretted me. I… I’m crazy about you Emma, I have been for a long time. I don’t want a drunken one night stand with you, hell, I don’t want any kind of one night stand with you. I want… more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked softly.

“Short answer? I’m a coward.”

“What if I want to know the extended version?” she asked as she patted the seat next to her and offered him part of the blankets so he could join her.

Killian got back into the bed and sat up against the headboard as Emma was. “I guess I’ve hid behind your brother’s warning to stay away from you. I mean, he’s not wrong, it can be a hard life being with a cop. Look what happened with Gold. I also worried about jeopardizing our friendship, especially if you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why now?”

Killian chuckled before answering her. “You being drunk gives me the courage to say how I feel, because you might not even remember this in the morning.” 

Emma dropped all pretense of being inebriated and leaned forward so she was looking straight into the depths of the eyes she dreamed about almost nightly. “Let’s get something straight, okay? I could never regret you, Killian Jones.” Placing a hand softly on his cheek, she smiled at the awestruck look on his face. “And also, I haven’t had a drink all night. I paid Regina to fill my shots with apple juice. I just needed the cover of liquid courage to try and seduce you because I am shit with words. And I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could always pretend that I didn’t remember the next day.”

Killian’s warm laughter startled her a bit, but then she was laughing with him. “I usually have a flair with words, Swan, you just do something to me that brings me to my basest form. I’m a goner for you, and I wish I’d have told you sooner.”

“Well, get used to me not being great with words. I’m sort of caveman-like. I mean, I’m not gonna point and grunt, but I definitely use action over words. But if I can paraphrase a great wordsmith, ‘I’m crazy about you, Killian, I have been for a long time’.”

The smile that lit up Killian’s face, dimples and all, was worth the hell she was going to go through with David. 

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I never got a chance to answer you at the bar. I love your new dress, may I see it again,” he asked, gently tugging at the blankets she’d wrapped around herself for protection a few moments ago.

“Hmmm, sorry, not right now...” Killian immediately dropped his hand from the blanket and began to tell her it’s okay, when she peeled away the blanket, and continued, “because I’m not wearing it anymore.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured before biting down on his lip hungrily.

“Still the plan.” 

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

“Stand up, love, let me see you.”

Emma complied, standing up and bearing herself to him. She was clad in nothing more than lacy, black panties and a matching bra. Watching as he perused every inch of her body, from the swell of her breasts, to her lean torso and soft belly, then down to the apex of her thighs, she could see his length swelling under his boxer briefs, and every part of her wanted him. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him to her, and it was his turn to comply. 

Once Killian stood before her, Emma unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, to the floor. Then she did something that shocked her a little bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and just held him; he immediately reciprocated, both arms encircling her and bringing her close. The feelings they’d just spoken floated around them and  flowed between them.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him, softly and exploratorily at first. But as lips gave way to caressing tongues, and roaming hands, heat built and Emma found herself panting and breathless.

Killian unclasped her bra and pulled it away and she was never more grateful for that barrier to be gone, as his chest hair delicately tightened her nipples and sent sparks shooting to her core. She wanted more and made it known by grabbing his ass with both hands and hauling him firmly to her. Killian glided his hands down her back and over her firm ass while sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned his name at the sensation of his wet mouth laving at her breasts, and his fingers and palms caressing the smooth expanse of her ass. Emma wanted that last barrier gone, she reached between them to remove first her panties and then finally his boxer briefs.  

She was not disappointed when she finally got a look at what her Detective was packing. Emma licked her lips as his cock stood at full attention, straining with the need to be touched.

“See something you like, darling?” 

There was that hint of cockiness that she loved so much. “Yeah,” she breathed as she dropped to her knees. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Emma stroked up and down a few times, relishing in the hiss that left Killian’s mouth. When his head dropped back, she pounced, taking him deep and swallowing once, before pulling back and then setting a slow rhythmic pace.

Killian lifted her from her knees and attacked her mouth with kisses, between trying to speak, “You don’t have to do that.”

Emma pulled her head back to stare at this man in front of her. What guy turns down head? “I know I don’t have to, I was enjoying myself,” she said, then she pushed into his frame, guiding him backwards until he could sit at the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees again, and  smirked before descending on him once more, but before she could even set a rhythm, he was halting her ministrations again.

“Okay, that’s twice. What’s up, Jones? Do you not enjoy getting head? Do I suck at it, and not in the good way?” Emma sat back on her calves, folding her arms around herself.  

“On the contrary, you are magnificent at sucking my cock, Emma.”

She grinned mischievously at the compliment, a swarm of relief flooding her mind. “Then what gives?”

“I haven’t...” Killian trailed off, and an actual blush colored his cheeks as he tried to find the words he was looking for. 

Emma put her hands on his knees and gently squeezed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while, I’ve kind of been saving myself for this brilliant lass I know. Plus, I’ve been hard since you took your jacket off at the bar and I don’t wish to finish before you,” he admitted. He rubbed nervously behind his ear as he waited for her reaction.

Emma was a little speechless. At no point in her life had she ever been with a man who was so dedicated to her gratification, he would deny his own. She’d definitely never been halted in the middle of a blow job so that her needs could be met. She stood up, taking Killian with her and then turned them around so that she could lie down on the bed. Holding her hand out to him, she pulled him down next to her and then scooted so that they were laying face to face. “Make me come, Killian.”

Needing no further guidance, Killian captured her lips in a fiery kiss while situating her on her back. Their tongues slid together effortlessly until he broke the kiss to blaze a trail down her body. She would definitely have marks, but he was careful to leave them where only they would see. As he paid special attention to her breasts again, delighting way too much in the noises she made, Emma finally caved, begging for more.

Scooting down between her legs, Killian took stock of the pretty picture splayed out for him. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured. Ever so gently, he ran the tip of his finger along her glistening folds, parting them as his finger ran further down, exposing her clit to the cool air. 

“Please Killian, touch me.”

“As you wish.” 

Emma keened in half relief and half need as his tongue finally made contact with her clit. She thrust her hips, needing nothing short of penetration, and again, she was obviously hoping for more than just one finger. She wasn’t disappointed when Killian filled her with two digits as he worked her clit with his tongue.

Emma fisted a handful of Killian’s dark hair as he brought her a pleasure like none she’d experienced before. It was hot as hell to have him watching her with those devilish blue eyes gazing up from between her thighs as she fucked his fingers. 

Emma had never been much of a talker in bed, but she found it easy with Killian to ask for more, to ask for it harder, and because of that, he had her falling over the edge of oblivion quickly.

“Get up here, now,” she panted, once her mind came back from the haze of post orgasmic delight.

“Gods, you taste divine,” he praised as he moved over her body, settling between her legs so they were face to face.

“You are really good at that, better than I could ever have imagined.”

“Oh, Emma,” he began as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently before letting it go, “do elaborate on ‘imagined’,” he smirked before grinding his hips down so his thick length slid through her folds and over her clit. 

A breathy moan rushed past her lips as he teased her. “Yeah? You want to hear all about how I get myself off while thinking of you?”

“Aye, lass, tell me.”

“Mmmmm, sometimes it’s quick and dirty, fucking my fingers, wishing they were yours. Other times I imagine you bend me over your desk at the precinct and take me roughly. But the best is edging while wondering if you’re lying in bed thinking about me, stroking your hard cock. I always finally make myself come, pleading your name as I picture you making yourself come all over your chest, calling out my name.”

“Christ, Emma, I’m going to come all over your chest if you tell me any more.”

In a flash of motion, Emma flipped them so she was on top, staring down at Killian. “We can’t have that.” Leaning down, she kissed him roughly, demanding his tongue, while situating his cock so she could sink down on it. “Oh… fuck you feel so good,” she gasped as his full length hit a depth she’d never felt without toys. Her hands found purchase on his chest as she adjusted to his size. 

She let Killian set the pace after he grasped both her hips and guided her along. He was mesmerized by the way his cock slid in and out of her wet heat. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he praised.

Killian pulled her down for a kiss again, and flipped them so he was on top. Emma whined as he withdrew from her completely and sat back on his haunches. “I’ve just realized I don’t have a condom,” he said defeatedly.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You clean?”

“Aye, lass. On my honor.”

“Then put every inch of that cock back inside me,” she demanded as she pulled him back into the cradle of her thighs.

Emma laughed lightly as Killian groaned loudly while pushing back into her. “Just so you know, love, this feels so much better than any time I’ve ever taken myself in hand while thinking of you. And I always come with your name on my lips.” 

Her answering smile turned into a low moan as Killian pulled out and then thrust back home. He changed the tempo, long deep passes, quick pounding thrusts, grinding his hips into her sometimes, and pumping shallowly others. She made sure to let him know what felt good and what felt better, and especially what was, “Oh fuck, yes, right there!” 

Despite never having been together before, the combination of Emma knowing what she liked,  being comfortable enough to ask for it, and Killian listening to her and taking care of her, had them riding the same wave, feeling, exploring, loving. 

In the end, Killian had both her legs pulled up high around his waist, arms under her shoulders, and his face buried in the crook of her neck as he methodically drove into her, determined to make her come again. 

Emma had her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, her arms around his neck, and her head thrown back into the pillow. They were a hot sweaty mess, and she was sure she’d never been wound this tight, she’d never been this turned on,maybe there was something to sex with feelings. His hot breath against her neck caused a tightness in her nipples and a tingling in her clit. Killian’s thrusts were punishing, hitting her deep, and she was so close and she knew he was close and she really wanted to come again.  

“Touch yourself, Emma, I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

An errant bit of relief flooded her as she realized Killian was not intimidated in asking for what he wanted either and he wasn’t too macho to ask her to help get them there. Now was not the time for reflection though, and so she pushed those delightful thoughts to an area for later. Reaching down between them, Emma gathered the arousal that coated her thighs and started rubbing her fingers over her clit. “Almost, Killian, almo- Oh, Ooooh,” Emma cried. 

It was almost ridiculous how in sync they were, each gracing the edge of ecstasy before plummeting off one after the other, calling the other’s name like a benediction. She’d been right, his moves on the dance floor had definitely foreshadowed his performance in bed. And just like the attentive gentleman he was day-to-day, he was the same in bed, making sure to guide her through every aftershock, and hold her as she came down from on high. 

“Bloody Hell, why did we wait so long to do this?” Killian panted against her neck, before rolling off of her. “Come here,” he said, pulling Emma against his side. 

Instead of nestling into him, Emma stood up and stretched deliciously. “So, I guess, I’ll umm... see you around?” A mixture of shock, disappointment, and embarrassment crossed his face before he quickly jumped out of bed. The look was priceless, she really did feel heartless, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. 

“Right, love,” he mumbled as he turned from her and grabbed his slacks off the floor.  

Emma tiptoed behind him and circled her arms around his waist, his whole body was taught. “I’m fucking with you, Jones,” she said gently, pressing her cheek to his back. “Join me for a shower?” As his body relaxed, she placed a few kisses between his shoulder blades causing him to shiver. 

He turned in her arms and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “You are a devilish little minx, aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t resist,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Come on, let’s go get clean… and dirty.”

“Do you promise to tell me more dirty little fantasies?”

A blush ran up her body as she remembered telling Killian her favorite fantasy about him. 

“Don’t get shy now. For someone who says they’re shite with words, you were certainly very chatty in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Killian.” She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest as mortification coursed through her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower, but found herself being swung back into his chest.

Killian wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his front to her back in a sensual embrace. “Don’t you dare ever feel ashamed to tell me exactly what you want, love. If you want it harder,” he thrust his hips against her ass to elaborate, “if you want it deeper,” he growled, sucking at the lobe of her ear, “if you want my mouth between your thighs…”

Emma moaned as Killian continued rutting his hips against her ass and caressing her with his strong hands. She hung on his every word.

“If you want to watch me stroke my cock,” he said huskily, “just say the words.”

“Fuck, Killian. I want you to fuck me again,” she responded breathily. Taking his hand and pulling him toward the shower again, she met no resistance this time. 

Reaching into the shower she turned the water on full blast and then turned around and jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him while they waited for it to warm up. 

He took her again, against the wall of her shower, then they made out until the water began to cool, before they both fell into bed, sated and exhausted.

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

Emma hummed happily as she stood at the stove making pancakes. Killian was still sound asleep in her bed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and a hard case of morning wood if the slight tent of the sheets was anything to judge by. As much as she’d wanted to wake him up with salacious activities, she’d also wanted to let him sleep in. So she’d silently slipped into her black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. Her mind kept jumping to different parts of their evening together, and how much she hoped for a repeat performance.

An unadulterated smile broke out across her face when Killian’s husky voice broke through her morning musings. “Something smells delicious.”

The way he nuzzled into her made her weak in the knees as she protested the compliment. “It’s just from a box.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Emma spun in his arms and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her mind was spinning, it was a little shocking to her that she wasn’t panicking at all about how much they’d discussed last night and how deep their feelings ran for each other. She realized she wasn’t afraid because what they had was worth taking the risk for. Breaking the kiss, she peered into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes full of emotions that she knew mirrored her own. And the absolutely boyish grin gracing his face made her heart soar. 

“What?” he asked as she continued gazing at him.

“Nothing, I’m just... happy.” 

“Aye, love, me too.”

Emma leaned in to kiss him again, this time parting her mouth and begging entrance to his as she stroked the seam of his lips with her tongue. “To hell with the pancakes,” she muttered when he opened to her, tongues tangling together. Carding her fingers through his hair, only their breathing and wet kisses filled the air as she pushed him back toward the table until he was sitting with her nestled between his legs.

 Untying her robe, Killian caressed his hands up and down the lush skin of her torso before greedily pulling her against him, showing her how ready she had him, not that it was hard to tell through his boxer briefs.

“I smell pancakes. I thought we were eating on the way to the zoo?” a masculine voice said, cutting through the moment. 

“David!” Emma gasped.

“Your brother has a key, good to know,” Killian muttered. Emma dropped her head into Killian’s shoulder, willing this to be a dream. That was quickly shattered when she heard Mary Margaret’s voice. 

“Are we interrupting something,” Mary Margaret asked, eyes wide as saucers and a smirk begging to be let out. 

“EmEm! Killy!” little Leo cooed. 

David’s hands had immediately found his hips, as they quite often did before interrogating a suspect. Although the look on his face looked more like he was preparing to beat a perp. “What the… I mean… What’s go- Why the hell is he- Goddammit!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and the toddler snuggled in Mary Margaret’s arms immediately started crying at his father’s outburst. “I thought I said she was off limits?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret and Emma both yelled. As Emma stepped away from Killian to give her brother a piece of her mind, Killian quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Neither missed the huff of exasperation from David, but both ignored it. Killian quickly folded Emma’s robe over and tied it closed before giving her an attempted wink.

She smiled that happy smile at him before returning a scowl to her brother. “I am not a possession, David. You’re not my father, you’re not my husband, and you’re not my keeper! You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be with.” She was outright yelling as she finished.

“I’m not,” he boomed. “I’m telling Killian he can’t be with you. I don’t want you with a cop, Emma!”

“Why is being with a cop good enough for your wife, the one you share a love so pure with and would lay down your life for, but being with a cop isn’t okay for me?”

“It’s not like that, Emma,” David argued.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it like? I’m dying to understand,” she retorted.

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“From what?” When David made no move to answer, she shouted her question louder at him. “From what!?” 

“Daddy, EmEm, no fight,” Leo cried. 

“Emma,” Killian called softly and she turned to look at his calming blue eyes. He was quite the site, clad only in his skivvies, both hands strategically placed over his package. “Let’s get dressed. You both could use a minute to calm down.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret piped in. “Take five, we’ll finish making breakfast. You still have that leftover ham from the other night?”

Emma nodded at her sister-in-law, then she and Killian headed toward her bedroom.

“Where are you going, Jones,” David seethed.

“Where the fuck do you think his clothes are, David,” Emma cursed.

Once in the bedroom, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “Hey, we are going to make him understand, okay. There’s no reason to fight with him. Let’s make him understand. Hear him out, whatever his reasons, and then show him why he’s wrong.” 

“No, Killian. He’s being an absolute dick. He has no right to tell me what to do. And I hate whatever his reasons are. I don’t care.”

Killian placed a hand on each of her cheeks and looked into her eyes, before planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Yes you do, love. And we can figure this out.”

Admittedly, some of her anger faded as Killian talked of understanding and explaining and communication. She walked to her dresser and pulled out one of his old t-shirts she’d borrowed at a party at his place. 

“You still have this?” he chuckled.

“It smelled like you for a long time after I borrowed it, I like sleeping in it.” 

“That party was over a year ago,” he mused.

“I told you, I’ve wanted…,” she paused, trying to find a better word for how she’d felt for so long. “I’ve really liked you for a long time, Killian.”

He slipped the t-shirt over his head before descending on her and kissing her fully. “Maybe almost for as long as I’ve fancied you.”

She just giggled at that, hugging him for fortification before taking his hand and heading back out into the battle zone.

“Wait, I still don’t have pants.”

Emma led him to the guest room.“David and Mary Margaret keep extra clothes here for when they don’t decide early enough who is going to be designated driver.”

“I don’t think Mary Margaret’s pants will fit me, darling.”

“Shut up you goofball,” she laughed as she threw him a pair of David’s sweatpants.

“Let’s sit down and eat, and discuss this like adults,” Mary Margaret, always the mother, ordered everyone when Emma and Killian emerged. 

She’d finished cooking the pancakes, whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs, and was just finishing frying up the leftover ham. David was pouring a round of coffee for everyone and holding Leo who was happily babbling now that he had a pancake in his hand and no one was yelling.

After strapping the baby into the portable high chair they kept at Emma’s place, everyone sat down at the table and dug into breakfast. 

“Can you just tell me what you think you’re protecting me from?” Emma asked. “I mean you trust Killian with your life, literally. Why don’t you trust him with my heart?”

David’s stoic expression lightened at that. “Does he have your heart, Emma?”

Killian glanced toward Emma and smiled knowingly. They didn’t need to call it love right this instant, but they were definitely invested in each other. 

“Answer the question, dear,” Mary Margaret prodded. “Otherwise they don’t have the truth, because trusting Killian has nothing to do with it, and you know it.”

“Fine,” David sighed. “You dealt with abandonment by your own parents, by every subsequent foster parent, by the only friend you made as a child, who turned out to be a fraud, and then with Neal’s betrayal, which almost broke you. I don’t want you to ever experience that abandonment again.” David’s voice broke as he finished explaining. Tears rimmed his eyes as he contemplated even trying to understand what she’d been through. And he would be damned before it happened again, especially by someone who he’d introduced into her life. 

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That has everything to do with trusting Killian,” she argued. “Why do you assume he’d abandon me.”

Leo quieted as the tension between siblings started to grow again and Mary Margaret looked around the table, jaw clenched and a warning in her eyes to every adult at the table to not upset her baby again. 

Killian placed his hand over Emma’s white knuckles where her fist lay balled up on the table. “I don’t think he means I would intentionally leave you, Swan.”

Emma looked between her brother and Killian, a confused furrow cocking her brows. 

David chuckled, “See, he gets it.”

“Explain, David. Make her understand where you’re coming from,” his wife urged him.

Wait, Emma thought, it was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be making him understand why she and Killian were a good, no great, thing. Before she could speak though, David started up again.

“Emma, you really think no one sees how much you two are into each other? You really think for almost two years, no one has watched the way you pine for each other, flirt off the charts, tease each other like kids on a playground? You’re like an old married couple half the time, we’d have to be blind not to see it. Killian is a good man, I understand he’d never purposefully hurt you, he’d have to deal with me if he did. But you have to understand that officers die in the line of duty all the time. Being with one means you accept that risk. I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing one more person you loved, especially if it was someone I brought into your life.”

A tear or two trailed down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to her brother. As she really heard what he was saying. For the first time, she understood where he was coming from. It finally made sense why he didn’t want her being with a cop. And it relieved her mind that it had nothing to do with Killian personally, especially because she wasn’t giving him up. 

“EmEm, you sad?” Leo asked.

A small laugh turned cry-hiccup escaped Emma’s mouth. “No baby, I’m happy,” she smiled. 

Leo clapped his hands, his innocent celebration of an adult human being happy, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. 

Emma unfurled her balled up fist under Killian’s comforting hand and interlaced their fingers, giving him a strong smile. “David, while I am thankful that you explained your reason for not wanting me with Killian and I even understand where you’re coming from, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a bus. There are no guarantees in this life.”

David nodded his head as he glanced between her face and her and Killian’s intertwined fingers. 

“He has my heart, David, would you deny us that?”

David sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest as he often did when contemplating something. After a full minute, at least, he exhaled a breath bespeaking acceptance, albeit reluctantly. “I’m beginning to see that. And I could never deny you happiness, Emma.” 

Emma beamed at her brother, understanding that while his actions may have been off kilter the reasoning behind them was fueled by brotherly love. 

Mary Margaret leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before flashing Emma and Killian a smile. “Glad we got this settled,” she giggled.

“So, just what are your intentions toward my sister, Jones?”

Emma scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at David’s attempt at big brother intimidation tactics. But when she heard Killian’s answer, she was kinda thankful to her brother.

“Well Dave, whatever happens between me and Emma is as much up to her as it is me. But I’m in this for the long haul if she’ll have me.”

“Good answer, partner,” David laughed as he threw his hand out across the table in an offer to shake Killian’s. “Two rules,” he added as he squeezed Killian’s hand tighter, “you are never allowed to kiss and tell around me, and if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” 

Killian let David have his moment of brotherly protection, because he understood how important it was to cherish Emma. He was the one who’d fancied her for almost two years after all. 

“All right, enough of that,” Mary Margaret sighed as she wiped Leo’s hands and face. “Let’s get everything cleaned up, and then we are headed to the zoo as planned. Emma you are free to bail, you and Killian probably have a lot of catching up to do for the last year and a half.” 

Emma waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law and Killian had the good sense to not dispense with his usual abundance of innuendos, while David just cast the evil eye at his wife. 

“What,” Mary Margaret asked, holding her hands up in mock innocence and confusion, “what’d I say?”

“Ga-dammen!” Leo shouted and every head whipped around to look at the little boy as he tugged helplessly at the lap belt of the high chair. “Up, up,” he pleaded. 

“Way to go, dear, looks like he’ll have your charming vocabulary,” Mary Margaret scolded her husband.

Not having any kids of their own had Emma and Killian struggling not to bellow out loud at the little guys antics. 

“No, no, Leo,” David told his son as he unbuckled the lap belt and picked him up. “That’s a… that’s a daddy word.”

“David! What kind of lesson is that?”

Emma and Killian just looked at each other and started cracking up. “So what do you say? Stay in or join these crazy kids at the zoo?” Emma asked Killian.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing,” Emma deadpanned. “I’m asking you out on a date with me, my brother, his wife and kid, and the monkeys too.”

“Sounds delightful as long as you’ll be there,” Killian answered as he pulled her into his embrace and pecked her lips. 

“Hey, let’s just take it slow,” David interrupted, “I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh relax, she’s 28, not 16, they’ve obviously already done the deed, how are you going to get squirmy over a hug?” 

“Not helping!” David pleaded with his wife, rubbing his temples in a soothing motion. 

“He’s such a baby,” Mary Margaret cracked up. “How about you guys meet us there? No rush,” she added conspiratorially. 

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to lay out a trail of rose petals to the bed for them?”

“He’s too easy,” she continued laughing.

“Fuhfuh sake!!” Leo shouted.

Mary Margaret’s laughter cut off immediately as she stared daggers at her husband. “Watch your mouth, he’s a parrot these days!”

“Gonna be a fun day,” Emma said, once the Nolans had departed. She was most definitely trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“It’ll be brilliant, love. You and me, that is the only requisite for my enjoyment.”

“I bet you say that to all the other girls.”

“There are no other girls. Only you, milady.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm, let’s practice mating like the animals, Swan.”

Emma laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “I have no doubt David is now timing the drive to the zoo and adding it to the time he thinks it should take us to be ready.”

“I can be quick,” Killian purred as he thrust his hardening length against her stomach. 

“Or we could take our time and really freak him out?”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, I promise, that’s all I want you to have.”

Emma stared into the intense gaze of Killian’s eyes, the blue shining with truth and sincerity. “The long haul, Killian, that’s what my heart desires. You and me.”

The End

Tagging @laschatzi @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @apromisednightcap​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @nikkiemms​ @deathbycaptainswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @tiganasummertree​ @cocohook38​ @snowbellewells​ @andiirivera​ @searchingwardrobes​ @timeless-love-story​ @artistic-writer​ @kday426​ @imagnifika​

[ladypyb]

Kiss-Me-Quick

Rating: T

Relationship/s: USUK

Note: I missed writing fanfics for my otp... I hope you like it!!!

|ao3|

Arthur is aware the duke was his neighbor. But that didn't give the blue-blood an excuse to summon him so suddenly in the morning! Even if, this has been happening for a few months... or that he's got a little crush on the man.

Something wet dripped onto his left hand as he reached for the scrambled eggs. Alfred paused for a moment, slightly irked at the wet circle on his skin before continuing on. Plop! Another dropped on his mango juice, noticeable ripples rocked against the glass. Okaaay, he was not imagining that. The young man looked at his breakfast, suspicion rising. And fear. He knew he was a sought-after bachelor (often an asshole), but no one would go that far as to--

He felt it again on his hair, wet and large. 

Alfred slowly placed his fork and knife with such gentleness and quietness that even the dowager queen would have raised a brow as nothing about him was ever that gentle and quiet (Now, that wasn't true!). He watched as a droplet fell on his barely eaten breakfast. The duke thought, 'Well, shit', and braced himself before looking up.

As he raised his head, he realized it wasn't some sort of monster or demon creeping on him from the canopy of his bed. But he still wasn't relieved when he noticed an angry cloud above him. Slowly swirling in a stormy gray as big wet drops began trailing down on him, his bed, and his breakfast. 

The frightened duke shoved aside the breakfast tray. Standing up and away from the bed, he watched as the little angry cloud followed him. "Toris!" 

The cloud got bigger and bigger as Alfred tried to cover himself from the rain inside his own bedroom. He looked at his now-soaked breakfast forlornly before yelling again for his butler. "Toris!" Alfred heard quick steps and an anxious "Sir?--"

"Toris, help!"

A brunett opened a door to a flooding room of Alfred shielding himself with a pillow from a storm inside his bedroom. Toris back away from the door as Alfred began running out of his drenched chamber with his equally soggy pajamas. "Sir, what's--?"

"No time! Call for him!" He narrowly avoided crashing down on his butler before regaining balance.

"Sir--! I'm sorry but did you mean--?!"

The duke bolted down the corridor, the large raining cloud was following him. Alfred noticed it immediately and flung open a window that faced the gardens. "Yes, him!" He threw his legs over the window, "The wizard in the backyard!" Alfred gripped the window frames, preparing for it as the rain pattered on him.

"ARTHUR!"

And the duke fell. From the window on the third floor.

Sir Arthur,

The Duke of Sableon is currently under a situation that can only be relieved by your powers of such caliber. I wish to ask for your time to identify the cause and, hopefully, cure such troubles that have befallen the lord of the house. 

I hope for you to come visit today or at your earliest availability.

Head Butler of the House of Sableon,

Toris Laurinaitis

Arthur gave the soldier that had given him the letter with a long bleak stare. The dark-haired man avoided his eyes. The wizard scoffed as he threw the letter on the pile of leaves beside him. Arthur was just having a peaceful morning watering and tending to his quaint garden of herbs and flowers when a soldier rudely interrupted his conversation with a little dryad. The soldier had shoved it to him with such 'urgency' he scared off Arthur's new friend!

He had to give some credit to Toris. It wasn't often a butler could write a letter with more formality and propriety than his master. Though, formality and propriety aren't exactly what Duke Jones is recognized for. Handsome? Yes. A gentleman? Arthur was dubious. But polite and refined? Ha, no!

He snapped his fingers and the pile of leaves with the letter was on fire. The soldier audibly gulped when the burning pile crackled. The bright red flames didn't spread nor did it smolder the grass beneath.

"Wait here," Arthur commanded the other with a finger pointed to the ground. Daring the man to follow him to his house.

Arthur took his sweet time looking for his satchel. After all, he was requested (more like ordered) to go solve another person's problems so suddenly without much thought to whether or not he was busy himself. Well, he wasn't really busy as the wizard had nothing to do except restocking a few not-really-needed potions here and there. But he was curious as to what mess the manchild of a duke had gone up to. Sighing, Arthur hopes it was not as worse as the curses he was afflicted before.

When he heard the loud yell of his name from the other side of the hedge, Arthur was tempted to peek in and sneer at who dared to scream the wizard's name so early in the morning. And, perhaps, curse the fellow that ruined the peace. The incident was strange, but he refused to break a personal oath of being someone a bit more 'proper' than his previous years.

From what was implied in the letter, it may have been the young lord that had caused him to over-water his Forget-Me-Nots.

As he locked the front door, he couldn't help but not deny himself of the satisfaction of delaying the summons to the estate that was just beside his little cottage. Just out of spite (and anxiousness to what problem Alfred had gotten himself into). So he turned the keys ever so slowly it rivaled that of how the hour hand of a clock moved. He saw the soldier shifting his feet with impatience in the corner of his eye. Click!

"Well then," the wizard grumbled as he adjusted the satchel over his shoulder, "Lead on."

Arthur has been inside the mansion of his neighbor a few times, which was a lot more than he would have liked. He can practically draw a map of the whole mansion on the back of his hand. The wizard liked the interior though, who wouldn't with such wonderful and meticulously planned furnishings, he didn't like the owner just as much as the aesthetic that seemed to vary but connect each individual room. He liked the duke's ability to connect such different pieces much more than he'd like to admit himself.

The green-eyed wizard was led to a corridor that only led to the most beautiful garden of the Sableon Fief. Huh! Arthur doesn't agree with that sentiment. 

The soldier nodded at him to proceed to the hallway. The familiar face of Toris greeted Arthur as they neared the glass doors to the gardens. Once again, the brunett's face was the same nervous mess Arthur had seen the last, what, thirteen times during this month only? And it was only the third week! The duke certainly had a less-desirable streak with curses, didn't he?

"Sir Arthur!" The butler's face was of pure relief when he turned to see the wizard calming treading down the hall. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your morning again but--"

Arthur waved his hand. "Oh, that's alright. Is it still the same case of dog slobber?" Ugh, that one was a fairly common curse. Easy to brew, difficult to make the afflicted person drink. 

The butler shook his head. Arthur drolled on. "Frog Vomiting? Blue Dues? Vampirism? ..."

"Err, nothing that has happened before actually." Toris tugged at his collar. The wizard's presence was always heavy, though it was perhaps the overly-large cloak. 

"A new one, then?" Arthur sighed in annoyance, "Was it severe enough that you had to move him outside his room?"

"No, definitely not as serious as the one from last week, though, " Toris reached for the doorknobs, "It's as equally messy-- It's better for you to see for yourself." 

The stained glass doors opened to a garden with such colorful vibrancy and a drenched man sitting on the chair under the roofed table set. A man who was... rained under the roof of the outdoor terrace. Arthur barely restrained an amused whistle. Now that was new.

The rain was falling freely from the sloped ceiling to the visibly upset man in front of Arthur. The stormcloud was a familiar sight. The wizard can't help but smirk at the soggy mess his employer had gotten himself this time. "So, " Arthur wheezed to control himself from outright laughing, "Who did you piss off this time, my lord?"

The duke pouted like the man-child that he was, not at all happy but used to the curses inflicted upon him. "How 'bout you guess, Arthur? I'm sure it won't be that hard with all the rain on me!" Alfred locked his eyes on the wizard's daring the other to even chuckle at his predicament.

Arthur coughed to hide the laughter that found its way to escape from his lips. He was getting paid a handsome amount if he was civil, after all. Still grinning in hilarity, he chided the young duke, "I take it you didn't heed my advice to not attend the party held by the Kirklands then?"

Alfred huffed, denying another mistake he made, "Your sister doesn't exactly take losing in an argument well." Thunder rumbled from the stormclouds as if to grumble along with the cursed aristocrat.

The wizard thanked Toris as the butler offered a seat and excused himself. The green-eyed man sat across Alfred with a humph and a cringe. "Half-sister. We share only the same father and the name 'Kirkland'. Nothing else."

"You forgot the eyebrows."

"Yes," Arthur hissed, "Be that as may, at least I know the right potion to help your drenched arse." The wizard vaguely gestured to the flooding side of the patio. "Lady Aisling often used the same rainstorm curse on those that pissed her off. Often enough for me to memorize its breaking potion."

The duke perked up to Arthur's statement. The man's blue eyes were filled with tired relief. Arthur understood that; he was once victimized by his older sister by the same curse years ago. The rain and thunder were very uncomfortable. And freezing his bollocks off.

Huh, this was the first time he had seen Alfred without his glasses. The duke was starting to turn red from the cold water. He must be going under a fever, too. But that wasn't his problem! Not at all. Not even when his companion's golden complexion seemed to turn gray under to the constant raining on him. Nor when the younger man almost died from last week's curse. Arthur thinks that Alfred may as well have been cursed to be cursed almost every waking moment. At least the wizard has a reason to see the duke now and then if only to remove or break said curses. Arthur will keep that to himself.

"I'll come back this afternoon with the breaking potion."

"Oh thank the gods. I don't think I can handle being wet any longer."

The wizard scolded himself to not think about something that would rather like to be wet in the presence of a sculpted young man. "Hm. Oh!" Arthur looked around to the multitude of flowers and plants in the garden recalling that he didn't have a particular ingredient that was needed for the removal but was present behind Alfred, "You don't happen to mind if I ask a Kiss or two from you, my lord?"

Alfred suddenly slipped in his seat and spluttered in surprise, "Wha-what! ...I think I, uh,  misheard you... ?"

The wizard rolled his eyes, "A Kiss. I'd need one for the breaking to work." Arthur raised a regal brow at the flushing and squeaking man in front of him. The rain was pouring buckets now. At this rate, Alfred is definitely going down with a cold. 

"Uh, I- Wha..." The duke adjusted himself on his seat. Alfred was being difficult again, was he stingy about plucking a single flower? Arthur admires a person that takes care of their garden but this is actually important!

"I only need one Kiss."

"Now?! As in, right now?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "No, it's alright if I take one when I'll come back in the afternoon."

The other was silent as if his life depended on the choice he'd make. Arthur watched as his companion took a deep breath and raised a finger, face, and neck a flattering shade of pink. Oh, he wasn't actually furious, was he? 

"One kiss... Just one."

"Yes. Kiss-Me-Quick and nothing else. Just that." Arthur gathered himself and stood up. "I expect it to be vibrant and not messy this afternoon, my lord. I'll see you then." He turned and walked his way back to his cottage, reminding himself to not forget to put a few sunflower seeds this time.

The wizard was completely unaware of the crimson mess he'd left the duke in. Muttering and covering his face with his wet, wrinkled hands.

"... He, he actually...! Expecting me to--! A kiss! ... My first...!"

The wizard speed-walked his way to the back garden, absentmindedly shaking the contents of the bottle in his nimble fingers. Today's problem was easier to break compared to the other curses. Granted it was because it was Aisling's most-used spell. And that he had lived in the same household as her for over half of his life. 

Nonetheless, an early breaking meant early payment. And a saved blond blue-eyed hunk of a duke. Though, Alfred really should his mouth shut half of the time. If Arthur wasn't living nearby, the aristocrat would have a hard time finding a competent magician and herbalist in the area. The fief was known for its industrial strength, not a heavy reliance on magic. The young Duke of Sableon was both lucky and unlucky at the same time.

Arthur twisted the stained glass doors open. Alfred was there, standing near the multitude of flowers. As the wizard got closer, he saw the duke pluck a bundle of Kiss-Me-Quicks from its bushes. 

A large cloud was still situated atop the golden hair of the lord of the house and almost half the overly-huge beautiful garden. Arthur watched the big and hurried way the droplet hit the sun-kissed skin, now turning a pale tan due to the cold rain, and on his nearly-transparent shirt. Even in the distance, he could make out the other man's musculature. The wizard felt the tips of his ears heating up and Arthur was sure it wasn't because of the three o'clock sun.

He marched over to the cursed duke, pulling the hood of his cloak as he did so. The cold drops of rain were cold as it began to soak through the think fabric of his cloak. "Good afternoon, my lord. Are you ready?"

Arthur didn't mean to be near soundless when he made his way but the younger man flinched at the sound of Arthur's voice, dropping the flowers in his hands before facing his neighbor. Arthur groaned as he bowed to pick up the bunch. He plucked a single flower and mixed it inside the potion in his hands.

"Uh-Um, Arthur... ?" Alfred had said it so quietly, Arthur could have not have heard him if it weren't for their close distance. When the green-eyed wizard rose and looked back up, he was greeted by a wonderfully cute side of Alfred. Flushed and soaked with rainwater from the tips of his hair to his bare feet on the ground, twisting the fabric on the edge of his sleeves. Blue eyes that not shrouded by his thick glasses were staring back into his own greens. 

For a moment, Arthur stood there blinking and unmoving as Alfred fumbled with his words. Suddenly, he couldn't hear the words from the lips of the other man but only the pitter-patter of the rain on the grass beneath their feet. And then, under the unforgiving storm on their heads, Arthur heard a: "If-If you won't, then I will!"

Strong arms had gripped his waist and shoulder and he was promptly pulled into cold but soft lips. 

Wha- What...

It took him the whole kiss to process that Alfred, the duke who was also his neighbor and employer was kissing him in the middle of the gardens where cursed rain was pouring down on both of them. And he responded by leaning onto the drenched form of the taller man. Arthur wasn't sure when he closed his eyes but when those cloud-soft lips left his own, his grip on the glass bottle of the potion slackened. Its dull thud on the grass went unnoticed to him and Alfred as his hands reached to the nape of the other's neck to cut the little distance between them for another touch of those sinfully sweet lips. Their teeth knocked into each other but both neither gave a damn. The wizard titled his head and their kiss deepened. 

For a moment, they just stood under the cursed storm cloud, kissing, and just feeling. The fact that the rain on their bodies was a curse and the potion to break it was on the wet grass was ignored. Eyes half-lidded and lips covered by the other, Arthur wouldn't have this kiss from the man he'd wanted for months any other way.

Something wet and rough suddenly swiped across his bottom lip. Arthur jolted in the realization that he was kissing the Duke of Sableon and pushed the other away.

Oh. Oh, Alfred kissed him. He kissed Alfred.

"... Arthur?"

The wizard back away from the duke, mumbling, and crimson red from the events. 

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

...

Arthur crouched and reached for the potion he dropped earlier and shoved it to Alfred's hard chest. He kept his eyes on his rained-on sleeves as he shouted in embarrassment. "Here! Drink! You idiot!"

The wizard turned away and ran faster than he ever did in his whole life.

That stupid git! Kissing him out of the blue, he really was a player. He shouldn't have let his guard down. Arthur took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose as he exited the sprawling estate. 

Confused and embarrassed and still feeling tingly all over from the kiss, he wonders what was going through Alfred's head when he was about to give him the potion.

Certainly, it wasn't because the other felt the same-- No. Arthur shook his head, there was no way Alfred would. Perhaps it was because of the Kiss-Me-Quick flowers? The name must have confused him! Yes, that was probably it.

Inside, he hopes it wasn't that at all.

[nattikay]

Sooooo I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in actually reading something like this, but I was looking through some of my older Miraculous art and seeing how the designs of my future AU characters have subtly evolved over time, so I wanted to make a post about designing these characters and how/why I made the decisions that I did! 

So first off, the birth order! I was originally intending to have the kids born in the order that they’re listed in the Stormy Weather episode:

...unfortunately, instead of actually looking at the episode to be sure, I just went off memory; I remembered Emma being the second but accidentally mixed up Hugo and Louis. By the time I realized this, the characters were already too cemented in my head to switch them back. ^^” Oh well.

In addition to the above, in my ~10 years of experience with next gen fics/art/OCs (I know, I have a problem), I’ve noticed that a pretty large fraction of the time folks opt for their OTP’s firstborn to be a daughter over a son. Nothing wrong with this, of course (heck, I’m a firstborn daughter myself haha), it’s just so disproportionately common that I thought making Hugo the firstborn instead of Emma might make my version stand out a bit more. ^^

Now with the siblings’ order decided, on to the designs! Starting with our oldest, 

Hugo!

Black hair and green eyes seems to be the most popular design for an Adrienette kid, and for good reason! It’s an appealing combo on its own in addition to using traits from both parents for the most notable genetic features in characters: hair and eyes. 

I also wanted to give Hugo some of his own flair though. I think the best next gen characters are recognizable as their parents’ offspring BUT can still stand on their own as unique individuals. One way to help do this is, when available, to draw on extended family rather than only their parents. 

Hugo’s strongest example of this (at least as a kid) is his slicked-back hairstyle, which was somewhat inspired by Gabriel’s. The slicked-back style seemed to fit his nerdy personality, but because he is a child and not nearly as uptight as his grandfather, Hugo’s hair is much messier than Gabriel’s, and he often has pieces falling out in the front. 

Admittedly I’m not super great at conveying the slicked idea from the front view, but you can see it a bit better in profile:

Hugo more than either of his siblings also takes after the Dupain side of the family, which isn’t super noticeable as a kid but becomes much more so as he grows up and develops the broad shoulders and strong upper body of Tom and Rolland. He’s not quite as enormous as Tom but is easily the strongest sibling (Louis, meanwhile, is a lanky little noodle like Adrien and Gabriel).

Going along with that, Hugo’s personality has loosened up a bit over time. While I do still draw him in his tucked-in button-up, I’ve also started drawing him in looser styles a bit more, because after all, he is just a goofy kid! This has included anything from using shorts instead of long pants to sometimes wearing just regular ol’ t-shirts instead of his nice button up (on which I rarely actually draw the plaid pattern I initially designed him with because wow it takes forever).

Funnily enough, this is a bit of the opposite of what happened to Adrien. My first sketches of adult!Adrien from this AU all have his shirt untucked, even whilst teaching, but now I almost always draw it neatly tucked in:

...interesting, interesting.

Anyways, while Hugo is still very much a little nerd who does quite well in school and LOVES learning about space and astronomy, he’s also a little more goofy and active than he was when I first created him. He’s probably the most athletic of his siblings (though really none of them are exactly jocks) and while he’s not particularly interested in organized competitive sports, he loves a good game of catch or tag. :)

While people in real life obvious wear any color they want, with my OCs I tend to pick a general palette and stick to it though all (or at least most) outfits, for consistency and easy recognizability. Hugo’s palette is mostly greens (for Chat Noir of course! ;) ), dark blues, and warm browns.

Now, onwards to 

Emma!

I decided to make my version of Emma blonde for two reasons: one, it appears to be so in the screencap shown at the beginning of the post, and while Marinette’s imaginations do not necessarily have to dictate how you design your versions of the kiddos, I liked having the consistency.

...plus then some years later Frozer rolled around and showed a blonde (imaginary) Emma again, so like 

...validation ;)

(by complete coincidence they’re even accurate to the color schemes I use kashdfgjsddsafjdf)

And the second is just that, again, most (not all, of course, but a lot) of the other Emmas I’ve seen in the fandom have been dark-haired, so again I thought it’d help mine stand out a bit.

So now with hair color established, it’s time for eye color. Most of the blond-haired Adrienette kids you see have blue eyes, for the same reason that a lot of dark-haired ones have green. Which, as said with Hugo, makes sense, since it’s the hair color of one parent and the eye color of the other. So why didn’t I make Emma’s eyes blue, then?

Well, it’s a bit of a silly reason tbh, but the blond-hair-blue-eyes combo reminded me a little too much of Chloe. ^^” Not that it would cause any parentage concerns, of course, since obviously Marinette is the one who gave birth to her, but the visual similarities still made me go like...eh ^^”

So green eyes it was! Which, of course, made her look a heck of a whole lot like her father.

But of course, it’s fine to favor one side of the family, but she’s gotta have SOMETHING from Marinette, right? So what other visual could she inherit to show at least some of her mother’s genes?

✧・ﾟ:* F R E C K L E S ! *:・ﾟ✧

And since Marinette’s freckles are so subtle, I decided to make Emma’s a bit more prominent and easily visible.

Actually her freckles have multiplied quite a bit over the years. She’s always had more than Marinette but it used to be confined to just a few on her cheeks and shoulders. Now drawing her is more like DOTS! DOTS EVERYWHERE! with freckles all over her face, down her neck and arms, and even a few on her legs! It is very much her Thing at this point haha

Freckles everywhere!

As for her hairstyle, the default is a simple headband, but she also sometimes wears it just plain down with no accessories at all (usually when in PJs), or up in pigtails like Marinette’s!

Those are just the main ones though...really she can do pretty much whatever ^^

Emma’s outfit palette took a bit more consideration than her brothers’, since I needed it to match the yellow hair (whereas black, as a neutral, can go with just about anything. So I took a minute looking at her established colors--bright green eyes and golden-blonde hair--trying to think of what theme I could used. 

The grassy green and sunshine yellow ended up reminding me of warm weather, like a spring or summer morning. The easiest color for that would’ve been green, but I was already using greens for Hugo and didn’t want their schemes to look too similar. Ultimately I decided on pinks, because the pink outfit with the yellow hair reminded me of some nice fresh lemonade! Some bright whites and warm creams/off-whites then added to the cheery, springy theme. ^^

Her original outfit design included some small dots on her collar and pant cuffs, not unlike the inside of Marinette’s jacket, but I don’t really include that detail much anymore for the same reason I rarely draw Hugo in his original plaid.

Lastly but not leastly, onwards to 

Louis!

Thus far we’ve had Hugo, who’s a pretty good visual mix of his parents, and Emma, who takes more after her dad. As such, I figured that it’d only be fair if the third and final kid took more after his mom!

So in many ways Louis looks a lot like a mini male Marinette, right down to the subtle freckles. If Hugo has the most Dupain genes and Emma has the most Agreste genes, Louis probably has the most Cheng genes and has the easiest time convincing people that yes, he is actually 1/4 Chinese (absolutely no one believes Emma when she says this lol...she has to show pictures of her family haha).

We can’t completely ignore the Agreste side of the family though, and in Louis’s case is manifests mostly in his hairstyle which is very similar to Adrien’s, as well as his lean and lanky body type as an adult, very similar to Adrien’s and Gabriel’s (unlike Hugo who, again, is stockier like a less-extreme Tom).

His outfit color scheme is light blues and grays with splashes of red. The blues and grays work well for his shyer, more reserved demeanor, while the splashes of red like the t-shirt hidden under his sweater are like his big imagination! (Like his mother and grandfather, Louis is very much into art and design, though his interest tends to be geared more towards characters and stories than fashion).

Not as much to say about him tbh...he’s “evolved” the least from his original concept and is mostly just the cute baby brother ^^”

So yeah, there you have it! That was roughly my thought process for creating/designing my little kiddos ^^ 

Hopefully some of you found this interesting; I enjoy talking about my ideas and stuff so if you ever want to know more or about something else that I do/make, feel free to ask! ^^

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Sleeping Beauty (Once Upon A Time in Westeros #1 - Rewrite)

Written for a new project where I will use fairytales as an inspiration for stories where one half of the OTP has to complete a challenge to reach the other half of the OTP

Myrcella Baratheon is lying paralysed on a bed, waiting for her prince to kiss her awake. In her motionless state there is not much she can do but hoping that her prince is just as brave and strong and amazing as she believes him to be. Because to get his father's crown and become the next King in the North AND to win Myrcella's hand in marriage he will have to complete the challenge the red priestess crafted for him.

Fairytale AU

Once Upon a Tìme, in a Kingdom far and far away from here, Myrcella Baratheon laid on the softest mattress in all the realm. Only her chest was moving up and down slowly. Every time she tried to wiggle her toes, nothing happened. Whenever she attempted to unfold the hands resting on her stomach, she failed hopelessly. She couldn’t even open her eyes to enjoy the beautiful room in the highest tower of the oldest castle of Westeros.

“Your prince is bravely fighting his way through the thorn bushes covering the castle walls.” The red priestess entertained Myrcella with random observations of Robb’s journey through the challenge course she herself had crafted. “I can almost see his blue eyes from here already.”

If the muscles of her face hadn’t been temporarily frozen Myrcella would have smiled.

When her family had visited the King in the North, Eddard Stark, and his family Robb’s blue eyes had been the first thing Myrcella had noticed. It had been almost impossible to break their eye contact to greet his parents and siblings and every time she stared into those bright blue eyes again it felt as if she was either drowning or soaring.

“The sun is making his hair gleam reddish.” The red priestess continued her one sided conversation next to the paralysed princess.

The always changing color of Robb’s hair was another thing Myrcella had noticed quite soon. When they had left for their first picnic in the Godswoord under the watchful eyes of the Heart Tree Robb’s hair had seemed dark, still wet from the bath he had taken right after his daily training with his brothers. But once the cold winter wind blew it dry it seemed more brownish. And when the rays of the evening sun had touched it, the hint of red he inherited from his mother had shined through.

“He is now climbing the wall. I hope he doesn’t expect his challenge to be over already. He has an entire garden of rosebushes left to cross. And then he will have to face me.”

Myrcella had never been the kind of princess to fight her own battles, but she had never felt as powerless as she felt right now. There was nothing she could do to help or encourage Robb. She could only wait patiently, knowing that her brave prince would complete this challenge to not only win her hand in marriage, but to also win the crown his father would proudly place on his stubborn head.

“After all, he will rule over the biggest Kingdom of Westeros. We have to be sure that he will be a good, brave and strong king.”

No one who had ever met Robb doubted that he woud be one of the best kings the kingdom could wish for. Her parents would most likely kill her personally if she would ever dare to say it out loud, but she was certain that Robb would be a far better king than her eldest brother. Robb was brave and fought his own battles among his soldiers. He was also loyal to his friends and country, willing to fight for it even if it would cost him his life. And from his father he had learned to rule with honour. His emotions, no matter how strong and overwhelming, never clouded his judgement. And no lie would ever cross his soft and tender lips.

“I have to admit that his determination and willpower are admirable.” The red priestess admiration was hearable in her normally so stoic voice. “He is currently cutting himself a path through the garden towards this tower.”

Myrcella’s heart beat rapidly in her chest knowing that he was almost there and that quite soon he would break the immobilising curse holding her down on the bed. Almost couldn’t come soon enough. All her muscles already hurt from lying in the same position for way too long and she was aching to hear all about his adventure and all the challenges he had had to face to reach her and the castle.

“And I am afraid that I am needed elsewhere now, princess.” The red priestess pressed a soft kiss on Myrcella’s forehead. “It won’t be long now. I promise.”

A cold breeze of air swirled around the sleeping princess and then there was nothing but silence. Maybe the silence lasted only seconds, maybe minutes or even more, but eventually a deafening roar thrummed in her ears.

The reports of the priestess had been brief and not quite informative, but not knowing anything was much worse.

Another roar echoed all around the tower and caused the entire building to tremble. The air was warming up and Myrcella felt her lungs struggling to keep on breathing. But it felt like she breathed in more smoke than oxygen and if she had been fully awake she would have coughed and coughed. Now there was nothing she could do against the agonising ache in her chest. Apart from waiting patiently until her prince would come to free her.

Sansa had asked her, right before Myrcella had stepped into the carriage riding her here, if she wasn’t afraid that Robb wouldn’t make it. And even though there was a soft voice in the back of her mind wondering what would happen to her if Robb would fail, Myrcella didn’t allow that voice to gain any hold over her.

Robb would make it. Robb was brave. Robb was strong. Robb was fierce. Robb was stubborn. And most of all, Robb was just as much in love with her as she was with him. He would make it.

And yet, a shiver rolled down her spine when the next roar came and turned into a high pitched shriek, giving the little voice in her head more control than she liked.

What if…

She didn’t get the chance to finish that thought.

With a loud bang the wooden door slammed against the stone wall and the heavy footsteps she would recognise anywhere and everywhere rushed towards the bed in the middle of the room.

“Myrcella…” His soft hand pulled her golden hair from her face and his warm breath touched her nose. “I made it…” He sounded out of breath and he placed a hand on hers. “I will be the next King in the North and you, my beautiful Myrcella, will be my queen.” His soft lips touched hers and a strange warmth spread through her entire body.

When she tried to wiggle her toes they were actually wiggling. When she attempted to unfold her hands she entangled her fingers with his. And when she opened her eyes she stared into the most handsome face she had ever seen.

His hair was glued to his forehead and pearls of sweat shimmered on his cheeks. Dirt and mud covered his skin and the clothes he were wearing were ripped and blooded.

“What happened?” Myrcella pushed herself up. Her muscles were protesting against the sudden movement, but she ignored them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What did you have to do?”

“It’s a long story.” Robb lifted her up and his blue eyes kept on staring at her while he turned towards the door. “A story that started in a dark and cold dungeon with shackles around my ankles and wrists and ended with a dead dragon and a true love’s kiss.” The smile on his face brightened. “But it was nothing I couldn’t handle and nothing I wouldn’t do again for the girl I love and the Kingdom I treasure.” Once more his lips touched hers, but this time only briefly so he could concentrate on descending the stairs carefully with his Queen in his arms.

Their kingdom waited for them with open arms, knowing that a bright future was waiting for them. And Myrcella and her Robb? They lived happily ever after.

[chikkampli]

That one crappy 7 page angsty Saiouma fic NOBODY asked for (vague mentions of suic*de i guess???)

It was just another day.

  Another day in which the unstoppable Supreme Leader of Evil™ was bawling his eyes out.

  Kokichi didn't know why he was crying, he just was. Who am I kidding, of course he knew why he was crying, but this wasn't a common occurrence. The small, purple-haired male knew his mental stability was slowly deteriorating and falling away into nothing, but he still kept up his act of being the unbreakable and strong leader. Nobody understood that he just *had* to keep up this facade; it was the only thing keeping him from feeling even more emotionally vulnerable than he already felt. He hates it, he hates everything and everybody. He hates his parents, he hates his classmates, everybody.

  He hated how they let him suffer. He hated how they never asked if he was okay. He hated how nobody cared. He hated that he was treated like he didn't matter. He hated that everybody hated him, so he had to act like the actual villain. Kokichi knew nothing was his fault, he tried telling himself that every single day. His inner voice chanting things like It's not your fault. They're just messed up people. You're a good person. It's not your fault. But now...he just felt like he was lying to himself. He made them hate him. The Supreme Leader of Evil™, Kokichi Oma, made everybody hate him. Why? Because he sucked.

  He was weak and frail, too kind for his own good. He was taken advantage of. And that's why people hated him in the past. Now, he's become stronger. Stronger in a sense of hiding your true feelings behind fake confidence, malice, and lies. Now that's why people hated him now. He is no good, messed up, stupid, unworthy of forgiveness, and a liar. That was the part people hated about him so, so much.

  His lies. He lied so much that it made people assault him multiple times before, but he always got back at them with his petty nature, often succeeding. People hated how he always got his way, no matter what. And his way was what most people call "bad". That his way was the worst way humanly possible.

  Kokichi sniffled, “...This...this is what you wanted right? For people to hate you? Stop being a baby and man up. You chose to be this way, you chose to be the villain. You made this decision on your own. Don't go crying over how you're all sad and lonely and unloved. You are a nuisance,  and you will always be a nuisance. You stupid, low-life liar.”

   His tone gradually became more and more angry each letter he spit out, “You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Continue how you are! Nobody will ever love you and nobody will ever help you. You're happiest this way,” his voice was wavering, “Y-You're happiest this way. Nobody...Nobody will ever mistreat you ever again. You're so smart. The greatest!” 

   Kokichi chuckled a bit, until he started laughing as loudly as he could. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA AAAAAAA! NEE-HEEHEE...HEE...Hee...hee...heh…” The boy started breaking down into tears again, shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. Today was the worst.

  “Try to catch me if you can, Harumaki-chan!! Maki-Roll! Harukawa-san!! Maki-chan! Nee-heehee!” Kokichi ran as fast as he could around the school, hiding in every place possible. His small frame was handy after all, being 5 '1 AND 19 (almost 20) had its perks. Why was he running from the female assassin, you may ask? Well the answer was simple.

   He stole her promise ring. Only because they had a rivalry going on. Definitely not because he was jealous of Maki Harukawa finding a person she loved and not him (Spoiler alert: he was jealous because of that!). He spotted the boys’ locker room, clearly having a chance to hide and rest before moving on, he ran inside. He stopped running once he entered the boy's locker room. He tried to take in as much air as he could quietly and started to regulate his breathing. He looked around. ‘Hm...it's empty in here. That's weird.’ Kokichi held back a chuckle as he decided to hide in one of the lockers. Yes, he was that small. Once he was fully inside and in a comfortable position, he covered his mouth with his left hand, breathing quietly through his nose, and used his right hand to fish for the ring in his pocket. The moment he set his hands on it, he felt around in his other pocket for his phone. He hadn't had a good look at it since he basically stole it and got caught by the one and only Maki Harukawa. He turned on his phone and shined the brightness onto the ring, it was gorgeous in every single possible way a ring could be. It was a golden ring, with leaves and vines engraved on it, leading up to the gem. It was a crimson-colored gem, Kokichi assumed it was a ruby, he wasn't good with jewels at all. The ruby complimented the whole entire ring, making it 10000× more beautiful. On the perimeter of the ring were white, clear gems. Kokichi assumed that they were diamonds.

   On the inside was a sentence. The engraved words said, “Forever mine, Kaito Momota”. Kokichi almost felt bad. Almost. This was a very pretty ring. ‘For a very ugly girl.’ Kokichi snickered at his butthole-eyness. It was very classic, but it never gets old. He looked down at the ring and decided that he should return it to Maki as soon as possible. He always returned the things he stole from his classmates, but this one was urgent. He had return it ASAP. He didn't know why he felt like he had to, maybe it was because he felt a bit of compassion for his arch nemesis. Or maybe because he felt he was stealing a symbol of love. Kokichi didn't know. He smiled, Kaito really loved her. Even though Kaito was always at his neck for things he did, Maki and Kaito made a cute couple. Kokichi would've felt horrible if something like this happened to one of his real-life OTPs. Kokichi sighed contently and exited the locker.

   Once he got out, he stretched his petite body. He was sure he hadn't been in there for long, but his limbs were kind of stiff. But the thing is, he was there for a long time. He just lost track of time. He walked out of the locker room, only to see a raging Kaito sprinting towards him. ‘Well shit.’ Once Kaito caught up to him, he slapped the Kokichi. 

   Kokichi stumbled back a few steps and looked up at the male, hand touching where he slapped him. The smaller boy started grinning. “Well...that was different from your usual punch. What's the hold up, Momo-kun? Kaito? Hero?”

   Kaito clenched his teeth, “You know what I want. So give it to me. Now!” 

   This was unusual for Kaito. He would usually be more reckless and loud, but this time...the rage was quietly emitting off of him. The negative energy present, even in a 50-mile radius. Kokichi felt nervous, but he didn't show it. The purple-haired fetus put on a bored expression, “Geez, fine, here's the stupid ring.” He flung it at his chest, the gem reflecting the sun beautifully. Man, Kokichi was *super* jealous. “What does it matter anyway? You guys are probably gonna get divorced or whatnot, so why promise something that might not happen? Hey, where's Maki anyway? I'm surprised she isn't here,” he gasped dramatically, “Is she scared of me? O-Omigod. Score-!”

   “Shut up.” Kaito stared at Kokichi, his purple eyes glowing. Like Maki's, but Maki's is way more intense. “You have no idea what you've done, do you even know how important that ring is to the both of us? No, you don't. Why? Because you don't have anybody to love, and nobody to love you back. Isn't that right, Kokichi?”

   Kokichi's bored expression didn't falter. Moments later, it turned into a huge grin. He was so good at acting like nothing phased him at all. “Aw, Kaito! Your words are pathetic! A Supreme Leader of Evil™ doesn't need or want anybody to love them, or anybody to love! Oh my GOD, you're so dumb! Look,” he chuckled, “you already have the ring. Go back to your little Harumaki or whatever. You're wasting my precious time!” he stomped his right foot onto the ground, smirking smugly as he looked Kaito in the eyes. “Read my lips. I. Don't. Care.”

   Kaito exhaled deeply, trying to not beat the other boy until he's dead. “...I'll see you later, Kokichi.” He walked off leaving a grinning Kokichi alone.

   Once Kokichi was sure Kaito left, and more importantly, that he was alone, he sighed sadly. His grin turned into a frown, and his once confident pose turned into an insecure slouch. No, he was not going to cry right now, not today, not ever. Crying is for the weak, you can’t cry! Kokichi Oma, the Supreme Leader of Evil™, cannot cry! The people who look up to your evil cannot see this act of weakness. It’s pathetic, and a supreme leader is not pathetic! Kokichi Oma is not pathetic! Kokichi told himself this for the remainder of the day, before he came home from school. Those words that came out of Kaito’s mouth really hurt him. He had never expected someone like...like Kaito to tell him that he was basically unloveable. It only further proved to him that his entire existence was a mistake. It should be erased. Nobody needs someone like himself in this world. He only causes problems and...and he doesn’t deserve love. He doesn’t deserve life. He is just a waste of space. A waste of life. His life is meaningless. He only brings despair and all those negative feelings into the world, so why should he exist? Why should people like him exist?

   Kokichi Oma deserves to die.

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

   Kokichi took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. He didn’t need nor want to be in this emotional state so he tried breathing exercises. It didn’t work, he relapsed into, once again, ugly sobbing. 

   “Why…? Why? Why am I like this?! What did I do to deserve this? Maybe it’ll just be better if I just die.”

   Little did he know, a certain navy blue-haired male was listening on the other side of the wall, devastated at the state his neighbor was in. Their apartment walls were thin, and Shuichi Saihara was Kokichi Oma’s next-door neighbor. Shuichi was just enjoying his evening tea and reading one of his new mystery novels he picked up at the bookstore, when he heard quiet sobs from the wall. He ears were immediately fixated on the sobs, but he didn't know if he should comfort the boy next door or not, so he kept quiet and tried to focus on his novel, but he couldn’t. The sobbing had gotten louder and louder, and even sentences started coming out. Shuichi felt very uncomfortable. Then it stopped for a few moments, shaky breaths and little hiccups resounding in his bedroom. After those moments, Kokichi started to cry even louder than before. ‘I can’t just leave him alone…he’s obviously hurting! I have to help him in any way I possibly can! Maybe talking through the wall might help...since his sobs are so prominent…’

   Shuichi bookmarked the page he was on and scooted over to the wall the sobs were most prominent. He was a little reluctant to speak, he didn't know how to comfort the other person. Once he had fully prepared himself, he spoke. “Hello? Do you need somebody to talk to?”  Shuichi spoke like he was doing a school or work presentation. 

   The sobbing abruptly stopped, the person’s breathing was still uneven and little hiccups could be heard. Shuichi fidgeted. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Some people get nervous and anxious around new people. It was quiet for a moment until a weak, hoarse voice called out.

   “Am I going crazy? Oh god, no. I don’t want a voice inside my head! Not now, not ever! Go away, you stupid voice!”

   The vulnerability and harshness of the voice startled Shuichi for a second, then he spoke up. “I’m not a voice inside your head, I’m your neighbor. My name’s Shuichi Saihara. I want to help you. I heard you...crying on the other side of the wall. Today was horrible, wasn’t it?”

   Kokichi stayed quiet for a moment. He was caught! Oh, the embarrassment he has to deal with later! But for now, he didn’t care. He wanted and needed anything to make him feel better. 

“Kokichi Oma. My name is Kokichi Oma.”

   Shuichi recognized that name. It was the name of the person Maki and Kaito hated so much. They said he had no sympathy, no true emotions, and that he couldn’t genuinely cry. That Kokichi Oma was heartless. Shuichi never believed that, and he definitely doesn’t believe that now. This Kokichi Oma was crying. Sobbing. 

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kokichi. So...let’s start with the basics. What happened today that made you feel the way you feel right now?”

   Kokichi shifted into a more comfortable position, and leaned a bit closer to the wall. His bed wasn't touching the wall, so it would've been impossible to touch it without falling over. “Well, I deserve to feel this way. I took my arch nemesis’s promise ring. I know, a pretty shitty move if you ask me. Well anybody, really. I knew it was a shitty move. I have to be the villain after all. Don’t pretend you didn’t know what I said to myself before you butted in, I know you heard it. These walls are so hopelessly thin,” Kokichi frowned at the thought. Somebody just had to hear him sobbing his little heart out. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. “Anyway...I do a lot of unnecessary things. Like stealing, teasing, just to make people hate me. So I stole her promise ring. Then her boyfriend found me, I guess he already knew I took it so he got scarily mad and ordered me to give it back to him. I did, but I threw it at his chest. Classic Kokichi move. I basically told him that they were probably gonna get divorced or break up anyway so it wouldn’t matter in the long run,” Kokichi yawned, all this crying made him kind of sleepy. “He got mad and then told me that basically nobody loves me. And he couldn’t be any more right then. I, being me, told him that he was stupid for thinking that was an insult because I don’t need anybody to love or anybody to love me. But his words stuck with me. It made me think about my whole life from beginning to end. How I was abused, to the bullies at school, to my parents, even the rest of my family. Nobody has ever shown me genuine love and genuine patience. Even now they don’t. I put up this front so I couldn’t be hurt anymore...but everything hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore, Shuichi. I can’t!”

   “It's okay, Kokichi. Cry it out, I know you're holding your sobs. Everything will be fine within time, it's okay to cry. It's okay to feel vulnerable at times. It's okay. Let it all out,” Shuichi said in the most melodic and comforting tone he could muster, hoping and praying it would help the other male in the slightest.

   It was silent for a moment, before he heard soft whimpers. Soft whimpers turned into crying, crying turned into sobbing, and sobbing turned into ugly sobbing. Shuichi swore he could feel the other boy's body shaking and fidgeting. He could feel it.

   “I...I just don't know if I can k-keep on d-doing this, S-Shuichi. I've been lying a-and p-pranking and doing this and that for a-a-all these years and just look at me! I'm not e-even an o-o-ounce stronger than I was before. I'm j-just as w-weak, but now I can hide it better. Nothing changed.”

   Shuichi just listened to the other male. The broken sobs escaping Kokichi's mouth almost made him cry, but he had to stay strong. Kokichi seemed like the person who didn't want their feelings affecting themselves and others, so he'd just have to cry later.

   Kokichi continued, “I'm just the same. They were right. I have no place in this world. I'm not worthy of anything,” he got quiet, his shaky breaths the only thing Shuichi could hear.

   “No, that's wrong! I may not know you that well, but I know damn well that you do have a place in this world, and you ARE worthy of things! You are worth more than you think you do. I can't really say anything about your personality, because I don't know much,” Shuichi voice softened, “but I know you're a very good person deep down. You're just troubled, is all. All you need is a loving environment. And that environment can start with me. I, Shuichi Saihara, will become your friend.”

   The lilac-eyed male went silent. This stranger, he barely knows...wants to be his friend? Does he know what he's getting into? Being friends...with a liar like him. Can this stranger become any stupider? “...I don't think you want that…”

   “I want it, I'm sure of it.”

   “Plenty of people didn't want me in the first place. Why you?”

   “Because I know you're a good person.”

   “I'm not that great. I'm a nuisance.”

   “No you're not. You are very great.”

   “You barely even know me.”

   “So?”

   “So? You have no idea what I'm like normally.”

    “But I know who you are on the inside, and that beats everything.”

   “That's stupid.”

   “No it's not.”

   The two bickered on for a while, before Kokichi finally gave in. “Fine. Don't regret it.”

   Shuichi smiled, “I won't.”

[ezra-blue]

1 OR 17 OR 22 with any of your OTP/3s for soulmate AU prompts (IF you're accepting prompts! reblogging for later reference is understandable)

I think I’ll take a crack at a quickie for 1. Happy 3/9 everybody!

1. the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate.

He’d seen it once, a flash of orange against a blue sky, and the world was beautiful for an instant.

He’d seen it once, a flash of orange against a blue sky, and the world was beautiful for an instant. Kouryuu had felt hope leap into his chest and spun around, but by the time he had, it was gone. Koumyou was shades of grey, pale against the charcoal bark of the birch tree, but when Kouryuu searched him for any sign of the color he’d heard only stories about, Koumyou, still silver and grey, chuckled.

“Did you see something interesting, Kouryuu?” He walked towards him, riffling his long fingers through Kouryuu’s hair.

“I thought I saw it,” he mumbled. He wasn’t so sure what this whole ‘”soulmate” business would mean, but he’d been lonely, had drank of solitude so many times that now, he anticipated seeing color more than a night’s sleep after a long day scrubbing floors or a meal after a fast. Koumyou hummed.

“Perhaps it was an omen, or a hint. Ah, or perhaps a promise.” Koumyou lifted his pipe, and for a second, Kouryuu thought he saw the contents of the bowl glow red, but it was merely bright but colorless again. “You’ll know when you see them, because the world will be as beautiful as it was then until the end of your life.” Koumyou smiled mildly, and Kouryuu shuffled his feet. 

“Do you think that will happen for me?”

“Hmmm.” It was that mock-hum Koumyou made when he was pretending to think, and Kouryuu pouted and put his hands on his hips. “My, my; I think it could.” Koumyou patted his shoulder. “When you meet the person on whom the axis of your soul turns, whatever that should mean for your soul, you will know that beauty again.”

“Do you know what it looks like? With all the colors?” Kouryuu looked around the world again, consciously aware that there were colors, had heard them described in the storybooks and poetry, but he could only imagine them. Koumyou chuckled.

“Perhaps I do; but then, that is a bit personal, isn’t it? Live long enough, and I’ll sure you’ll find out.” Distantly, the temple bell rang, and Koumyou held his hand out to Kouryuu. “Let’s go back together.”

Kouryuu took that hand, and led where it followed, hoping to be led to that brilliant world of light and color that that glimpse of orange against blue promised him.

But then, Koumyou had to tell him to live and pushed him aside before he received the killing blow. The world was still grey.

When Kouryuu was named Genjo Sanzo, the world was still grey. Kouryuu had still wanted to live then, to see the world in more than shades of grey.

When Genjo Sanzo was turned out into an uncaring world, that world was still stark grey. 

The flash off the muzzle was bright white. Bullets were silver-grey. The gun was black, and every spray of blood blacker still. Genjo Sanzo knew the blood that spattered his face, chest, and hand when he got too close to whatever he had to kill was crimson, but it was black, sticky and ugly, as hideous and dark as the rest of the world.

The moon was white against the pitch black of night. The sun was blinding. By the time Genjo Sanzo had settled into a place where he didn’t have to kill his way to every safe haven, he had stopped wondering if there really were colors other than black and white. He’d even lost interest in the shades of grey.

That flash of orange against blue was something he’d imagined.

Just like that voice in his heart.

The trouble was that the voice in his heart was getting louder, more insistent, and finally, Sanzo decided to seek out its source if only so he could make it shut up.

The mountain was grey and bleak, dotted with tufts of pitiful looking white flowers. Sanzo trod over them, hardly looking at the world around him as he walked through it. The voice got louder and louder as he walked, and for a second when the summit came into view, he thought he saw something in a color he knew by name and sense impression alone: gold.

He made the last of the climb, and there, in the blackness of confinement, was a boy. The boy lifted his eyes, and then the sky was blue. Sanzo could distantly remember an orange paper airplane flying free against a blue sky, and his soul soared as the rest of the world bloomed around the boy. The red-orange of the rocks, the verdant, intense turquoise green of the trees below, the purple thistle and yellow dandelions that dotted the ground, and those gold, gold eyes. The world was indescribable. No wonder Koumyou hadn’t tried. 

I could only have lived this.

Sanzo extended a hand, and the boy took it, smiling. “You’re the best thing I’ve seen for as long as I can remember,” he said, golden eyes alight as bright as any flame, and Sanzo’s world began to turn, perhaps for the first time, as Son Goku emerged from the blackness and into life in full color.

[phoenixsoul13]

OTP Theme Songs

Tagged by @bohemiantea-scorpiocoffee​!! (Thank you!) I’m rather terrible about actually having 1 OTP, so this might get rather long? (So I’m not going to post all of the lyrics.)

(Also, I considered doing a few non-OC otps, but I’m terrible at picking songs for those. :P)

Deirdra & Leliana: Constellate - Fleurie; 20 seconds after this song popped up on Spotify the first time, I was like, “holy shit, this is their song.” :D

When I was feeling heavy Like the light had left me [She] said come and let me Curl up beside you honey When your world is feeling heavy You can lay your armor on me You can lay your head down on me

Ethel & Josephine: L-O-V-E - Nat King Cole: What can I say? It’s a classic. :P And it feels perfect for them.

L is for the way you look at me O is for the only one I see V is very, very extraordinary E is even more than anyone that you adore can Love is all that I can give to you Love is more than just a game for two Two in love can make it Take my heart and please don't break it Love was made for me and you

Estelle (Cousland) & Alistair: Better Place - Rachel Platten; After everything she’s been through, falling in love with Alistair made the world seem brighter. Too bad there’s no happy ending for them.

I'll tell the world, I'll sing a song It's a better place since you came along Since you came along Your touch is sunlight through the trees Your kisses are the ocean breeze Everything's alright when you're with me And ah ah ah ah ah, you're my favorite thing Ah ah ah ah ah, all the love that you bring But it feels like I've opened my eyes again And the colors are golden and bright again There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong It's a better place since you came along It's a better place since you came along

Alphonse (Hawke) & Anders: Runaway with Me - Carly Rae Jepsen; This song just really fits their vibe. (I’m actually really bad at this.)

You're stuck in my head, stuck in my heart, stuck in my body, body I wanna go, get out of here, I'm sick of the party, party I'd run away I'd run away with you This is the part, you've gotta say all that you're feeling, feeling Packing a bag, leaving tonight while everyone's sleeping, sleeping Let's run away I'll run away with you 'Cause you make me feel like I could be driving you all night And I'll find your lips in the street lights I wanna be there with you 

My anxiety is actually really high today, so I’m going to just going to tag everyone. :P

[morganaseren]

Hi! In line with Josephine and Niamh, what would it be like if they're were both ambassadors who worked frequently with each other???

Oh! Well, as luck would have it, I have a WIP regarding that type of scenario too! It's not as fleshed-out as my other Niamh/Josephine AU, which is why I originally opted to post that one up instead. 😂 Anyway, here is a list of my current thoughts for this verse thus far!

Things to Know:

No Blight of Darkspawn threat.

The Circle of Magi doesn’t exist, so mages live freely.

The Veil was never torn apart, so elves also live freely in addition to being rather long-lived.

This verse will take place around the Inquisition timeline in 9:41 Dragon since that's also around the same time Josephine would be trying to restore her family's landed trader status in Orlais. As such, Josephine would be 28 and Niamh 33.

Since The Landsmeet consists of various noble houses and operates as official legislative body in Ferelden outside of the King and/or Queen, Niamh has been serving as her family's liaison within it since she was 19.

However, Niamh was given the title of Royal Archmage at age 23 during Queen Anora's coronation since she'd been instrumental in helping the other woman secure her place on the throne following the untimely death of King Cailan a year earlier. Enough of The Landsmeet had argued Alistair, Cailan's half-brother, should be crowned instead since he was next in line to rule. As a close friend of his, however, Niamh knew Alistair was terrified of such a prospect since being King was never something he wanted.

As a means of giving Alistair a way out, Niamh gathered evidence detailing just how much more involved Anora was in various legislative and diplomatic matters around the country in comparison to her late husband. This succeeded in overturning several crucial hold-out votes within The Landsmeet, and Anora was declared Queen.

Because of Niamh's initiative in the matter, however, many were able to see her utter brilliance in diplomacy closehand. As such, no one objected when she was raised in position to be a part of Anora's inner circle as Royal Archmage, serving as the country's lead strategist and ambassador.

Niamh's largely been well-respected in various diplomatic circles around Thedas by the time Josephine enters the scene in her early twenties. There would definitely some initial hero worship on Josephine's part when they meet, but I think Niamh would also be interested in watching how Josephine's career unfolds, given what she's heard of her accomplishments thus far.

They cross paths frequently over the years—enough that they make the time to get together for lunch or some such whenever they're both in the same city. While they try not to involve work too much in their discussions, it does happen on occasion. By then, however, they respect one another's abilities enough to where they both often act as a sounding board for the other to gather their thoughts and brainstorm plans to see them through.

They do share gossip when it comes to the dignitaries they have to work with though and give each other strategies on how to best deal with them. "Duke Von Ahn enjoys hearing himself talk, which can be rather problematic when one is working on a limited timeframe. He has a weakness for those little truffles found in the chocolaterie near the waterside though. Kindly ply him with a few if you're trying to get the meeting back on schedule."

When Josephine becomes Antiva's Chief Ambassador to Orlais, Niamh's thrilled for her, and she travels to Orlais for the resulting masquerade in her honor. It's a type of event that Niamh rarely volunteers to go outside of official matters, and her closest friends and relatives definitely pick up on that right away... 😏

Nothing in their immediate friendship changes with one another though—at least not until Josephine's messengers are consequently killed when she tries to restore her family's trading status.

Knowing that Josephine's in danger definitely jumpstarts a lot of Niamh's feelings, especially when an unexpected—but ultimately unsuccessful—assassination attempt on Josephine's life occurs.

They probably share a mutual love confession just as the matter with the House of Repose and all the legal red tape gets settled.

Of course, in true dramatic fashion, their new relationship gets rocked when Josephine's parents arrange a betrothal of their daughter to Lord Otranto, completely unaware Josephine's in love with Niamh. 🤣

While I don't envision an actual duel between Niamh and Otranto happening in this verse, I can imagine NIamh going to great lengths to prove her love and devotion to Josephine. If you're familiar with the floating lantern scene in Tangled, then imagine Niamh arranging several hundred of these to be made (she had to pull in so many favors by her friends and family to get this done on time 😂) in honor of Josephine's birthday in Antiva, which she attends.

The lanterns get released that same evening ("One last birthday present! I promise!"), but since Niamh still has access to magic in most of her AUs, she uses her powers to crowd some of the lanterns together in specific patterns to spell out a message that leaves most of the party's guests completely astonished. Josephine is as equally dumbfounded as she rereads the words displayed so prominently in the night sky, but it isn't until she catches sight of Niamh kneeling before her, ring in hand, that they finally register to her.

Niamh's speech as she proposes: "I know I can't wreathe you in all the stars in heaven that you so rightfully deserve, but I can only hope this humble attempt will be enough. Josephine, will you do me the greatest honor by becoming my wife?"

And there you have it! I'm sorry that I don't have an actual scene for this AU written just yet, but I hope you like the little ideas I have so far! Thanks for sending this in!

[clown-bait]

Monster Christmas PT2 (Monster Roommate AU)

Ice skating Penny! I’ve been so excited to post this guys you have no idea. He’s basically Bambi during that winter scene but a giant killer monster trying to hunt. Its so pure. Also two monsters having a bloodly snow ball fight and making horrible macabre jokes like two giant NERDS. I love them they’re OTP. 

Monster Christmas Part 2 

Pennywise the Figure Skating Clown

“Oh there you two are I was about to come look for you but I got caught up having a lovely conversation with your Uncle Bob! He's going to show me around town tomorrow so you two can go to work!” Leech’s mom smiled happily at them. She really was the cutest mom.

“Yeah we ran into him on the way back from our um… smoke break…” Leech pulled at the bottom of her dress.

“Ugh Lucy darling you know I detest that habit of yours.”

“Its a hard habit to quit.” Robert gave her a wicked grin and she elbowed him hard.

“‘I’m calling a cab. Well drop you off at the hotel mom we’re uh we’re going to…”

“Grab a drink?”

“Oh look at you two! Finishing each others sentences! So adorable!”

The two monsters both blushed. “Mom! D-dont”

“Well you have to come up to my room I brought my home made lemon cookies the ones you loved when you were a kid!”

Leech whined realizing she cant indulge in her favorite treat. “We’ll take them to go.” Gray smiled

———

“Wull eh offishully loff your mofer” Robert popped the last of an entire box of cookies into his mouth.

“You're just saying that because she fed you”

“You never feed me!”

“I bring you snacks all the time”

“Yeah as bribes!! And then its “Penny don't eat Randy he tips well. Pen will you help me make food I can’t even eat for some dumb holiday that worships a bird. Oh Penny never mind eat Randy for me he's tipping Sandy more. You were perfectly capable of eating Randy yourself you know!”

“The “Randy incident” does not need to be brought back up” she growled shuffling her feet in the snow.

“Do you know what he was afraid of?!”

“Are we really doing this?”

“VAMPIRES LEECH! I literally just turned into you!”

She paused and turned to him.

“Wait why me specifically?”

“I don’t know….. maybe I like the way you look when you get, as you say, hangry”

“Aww really?!” her face lit up like a christmas tree.

“Yeah yeah enjoy the compliment……lazy bloodsucker…”

“Awwww Penny” she stopped and hugged him tight. Robert rolled his eyes and pulled her into him.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” he smiled into her wig

———-

He brought her to the town square and paused to look at the giant tree in the center. They saw other couples drifting around the ice rink together, blissfully unaware of the monsters watching them.

“You know, I bet you'd be killer at ice skating.” Leech gave him a sly grin

“Why’s that?”

“Its like dancing but on blades.”

“Go on…”

“Not the kind you're thinking of….. but I suppose you could kill someone with them if you got creative…”

“Hmmm… we should try it.”

“Ice skating or murder with ice skates?”

“Both!”

“Yeah because that would go over so well.”

“Fine! We’ll just do the boring part” he grabbed her hand and rushed to get in line.

—————-

“Ok so I haven't actually done this in years. Last time I did was with Adam and I nearly broke my leg…”

Robert growled at the mention of her ex. Leech gave his arm a shove “Oh stop you got to rip him apart be happy. If it makes you feel any better I'm already having a way… better.. time….” they both paused to watch a beautiful young girl drift by with hunger.

“Dibs! I call dibs!” she elbowed him.

“You already ate tonight!” he hissed “You know I’ll just take it from you anyway.”

“That’s not how dibs works”

“As if I care. Alright lets make it a game then, who ever lures her first wins.”

“You are so on.” the nosferatu licked her lips and grinned.

“Um sir I don’t think we carry your size skate…” the attendant pointed at the disguised clowns massive feet. Leech snorted and Robert gave her a shove.

“Its ok I brought my own” he smiled

“Hey! Hey Rob! Robert! Brobert!” she elbowed him over and over till he turned to look at her.

“What!?”

“You wanna know why people are terrified of clowns?”

“I’m going to regret this aren't I?” he sighed “Fine, why?”

“The bigger the feet, the bigger the dick!” she snorted again and banged on the railing.

“Did you- did you just compliment my dick size?” his face became slightly pink

Leech wheezed at her own terrible dick joke. “Hey, I aint wrong big boy!” she gave him a flirty wink Robert turned bright red in embarrassment. “I cant take you anywhere.” he grumbled.

They sat down and Gray materialized skates onto his feet. Leech snickered as she laced hers up.

“What?” he glared.

“You're so going to fall on your ass.”

“Am not!”

“Have you ever skated before?”

“How hard can it be” she saw him put weight on the blades under his feet and watched as his knee wiggled off balance.

“I'm going to totally win”

Robert stood up attempting to intimidate her only to wobble and catch himself on a ledge. Leech snorted with laughter.

“D-dont laugh at me!”

“Oh my god you're like a baby deer trying to stand!”

“S-stop I am the alpha predator! AAHH” he fell to the side and opened his legs wide to stabilize himself.

“This is golden and we’re not even on the ice yet!”

She left him to go skate around on her own. He sneered and giggled when Leech wobbled a bit as well but as soon as she got the hang of it she was gliding around with ease. “You coming Bambi?”

“Why are you calling me that? Don't call me that.”

“Because I know you’re going to spend half the time trying to stand the fuck back up.”

He growled and attempted to enter the ice rink watching the girl they were both competing to lure. He instantly slid sideways and latched onto the wall in embarrassment hearing an all too familiar cackle from behind him. “How are you so good at standing on ice! Tell me!” he snarled

“Good? me? Pleeeaase they always picked me last for hockey when I was a kid.” she frowned at the memory and sighed. “Come here ruffles I’ll help you.” The vampire drifted over to the wall and hoisted him to his feet. “Hang on to the ledge for a bit and watch my feet.” she showed him the way to push forward and he watched her movements. “Go slow. I know how you like to rush things” Robert nodded and copied her with eyes trained on those pretty little legs. She turned around so she was skating backwards and started showing off “Not too bad! Still awkward as hell though!” Leech teased, suddenly she fell back when she hit the wall and Gray unable to stop crashed on top of her. They both looked at the compromising position they were in and Leech let a slight blush creep onto her face before they both burst out laughing. “Oh god we’re terrible at this!” she wheezed “I bet that chick is laughing her ass off at us” Gray’s laughter died down and he lovingly placed his hand on her rib cage. The young vampire’s lips parted and her breathing deepened. Everything around them seemed to just melt away.

“It seems like I'm ill equipped to hunt in winter.” he chuckled. “I’ll need to practice”

“You accidentally caught me though, that good enough?” she gripped his coat and pulled him closer.

“Mmm I’d say its better” his eyes changed color as he leaned into her, his cold hand cupping her cheek. Leech closed her eyes and craned her neck to meet him their lips inches away from one another until they were interrupted by an angry female voice. “Hey Romeo and Juliet! Get up or get a room I'm working on my routine here” they both turned to find the girl they were trying to hunt standing over them with her hands on her hips. Robert gave Leech a sly grin. “Time for you to lose little hunter!” he hissed “How rude of us to get in your way miss! My apologies!” he turned and attempted to hoist himself up the girls eyes grew wide when she saw the handsome man before her leaning on the wall for support. “Say I'm quite bad at this and you seem to have great skill care to help?” his eyes flashed hungry yellow. “Wh-what about your girlfriend?”

“What girlfriend?” he grinned making the memory of Leech and him disappear from the girls mind. His victim smiled and beckoned him to follow her.

“Oh you dick!” Leech growled “PLAY FAIR ASSHOLE”

“Like you were ever going to play fair in the first place darling.” he smirked awkwardly pushing himself along the wall away with her target.

“Ok you may have a point…but still!” she snarled and stood up fine if he wanted to play dirty she’d be more than happy to get dirty. Leech buttoned her coat up tighter and scraped the ice with the blade of her skates making a pile of white powder. She grinned and looked over at Robert who was leading the girl to an exit his eyes glowing bright like candles. The vampire stood up and skated over to him as fast as she could manage she skidded her skates so a spray of powder hit him on the back. She heard the disguised clown snarl and turn, thats when Leech nailed him with a ball of ice on the side of the head. “YOU LITTLE BRAT!” he roared and the vampire howled with laughter. Robert scooped up some of the ice shavings around him and lobbed a giant ice ball at Leech’s face. He grinned triumphantly while the vampire shook the ice out of her wig.

“Um hello?” the girl asked as the two disguised monsters glared at each other.

“Not now Ashley” Gray snarled preparing to wipe the sly smirk off his lovers face.

“H-how did you know my name?”

He paused and looked over to his victim. “You must of mentioned it on the way over here or something.”

Robert turned back to Leech but she was gone, vanished into the other skaters.

He grumbled something to himself and pushed his victim away from the crowd “Hey careful! I’m a finalist in the skating competition!”

“You think I care?” Robert arched his brow and pulled her behind a store where he backed her into a corner.

“Oh mister you’re too rough~”

“You have no idea” his eyes began to shine.

“I bet you like it rough too.” the girl grabbed at his belt buckle. Robert raised his brow unamused. He was about to mock her when he heard a familiar hissing from above him, his golden eyes trailed up long black gnarled claws till they locked onto two terrifying orbs of moonlight. They watched each other with intensity as the girl fumbled with his belt. He knew she was getting jealous and seeing his vampire get so worked up made his eyes shine even more. Robert gave Leech a victory smirk and a white gloved hand grabbed the girl by the throat. He began to squeeze the life out of the poor girl while practically eye fucking the vampire watching from above. Ashley screamed and his other hand covered her mouth. “That wont do you any good little miss Muffet. No one can hear you right now” his disguise melted away into the clown she screamed again “That was your favorite rhyme when you were little wasn't it? Little miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and way! hahahahaha!” he sang in a demented voice as horrible black claws creeped down the side of the building and a low churr filled the air. The clown removed his gloved hand from her mouth Ashley was hyperventilating now and tears streamed down her face. A new sickening voice whispered in her ear dripping with venom “then along came a spider who sat down beside her” The poor girl turned and was met with the face of skeletal bat like creature. The beast opened her fang filed mouth to let a long raspberry colored tongue drag along the girls face. Pennywise purred with delight. “And frightened miss Muffet away.” He sang his is mouth opened up and thousands of black spiders poured out of it onto his victims face and chest. The girl let out a primal screech of sheer terror.

The spiders on her vanished into shadowy smoke. Pennywise charged forward and ripped at the girls body creating a hole so big it nearly tore her in half. Leech sat on her wall and watched the life fade from her eyes as blood fell turning the white snow beneath them red.

“Sometimes I forget how dangerous you can be” she mused while she observed him rip the body into pieces tossing some in a pile to save for later. Penny looked up from his meal and grunted in approval. The vampire crawled off the wall and sneered at the corpse.

“You got jealous didn't you” the clown grinned face covered in gore.

“Shut up you won the game don't rub it in.”

“Aww my little hunter is a sore loser!”

“I just didn't like the way she touched you” Leech grumbled.

Pennywise chuckled a bit digging in the torso of his victim till he found what he was looking for. “I got something that will make you feel better!”

“What?”

He held out the humans heart in one large gloved hand dramatically dropping on one knee mocking a human proposal “Take my heart love!” he let out a burst of laughter at his macabre joke. Leech snorted and put her hands on her knees gasping for air while the two of them had a giggle fit over the warm mangled corpse. “You fucking nerd” she scooped up some blood stained snow and threw it at him. It hit Penny in the chest and the clown growled. “Oh naughty naughty little hunter! Now you've really done it!” he grabbed a much bigger snow ball and lobbed it at her laughing when the force of it nearly knocked her down. The vampire hissed and threw one of her own hitting the clown between the eyes. He shook the snow off his face while his ruffles jingled like sleigh bells in the night.

Leech walked over to him and picked up a strip of meat from the carcass. “May I?”

“Hmm you may. You might be earning it in a bit though.” Pennywise grinned wickedly.

“Thats a win-win for me.” the vampire rolled out her tongue and sucked the flesh, making sure the clown could see. he huffed “Dirty little thing, trying to tease Ol’ Pennywise”

“You already teased me plenty in that other alleyway.” she said mouth full of meat.

“I never planned on stopping.” he grumbled, turning to the corpse

She finished her last bite and silently stalked over to him her footsteps light and soundless like an owl’s wings. She tried to creep behind him but the clowns eyes were already shining gold in the night. When her arms snaked around his torso he switched their locations suddenly they were in the sewer and Leech had fallen off of him with a thud the corpse from their dessert landing next to her.

“Ow hey Pen!”

“Look who's falling on their ass now!” he laughed at her. “Shoulda known better than to sneak up on the likes of me little hunter.”

“There a reason you brought me here? Or are we just going to chit chat all night”

“So eager I love it!” he chuckled reaching out and pulling her into him. “don't worry little one you'll get me soon, I want to have some more fun first.” Leech smirked at him and snaked her hand up his chest.

“Such as?”

“How about a little role play hmm?” he leaned down to meet her gaze and smell her arousal.

“Oh you kinky bastard~” Leech snickered as he nipped the top side of her face.

“You be the fox little hunter and I’ll be the hound.” he chuckled darkly “If I catch you I get to tear you apart”

“And if I get away?” she nipped at his nose

“You’re not going to love” he growled. “I always catch my prey.”

Leech kissed him with a snarl “Come and get me then.” she whispered against his lips.

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

LOOK AT THESE TWO CUTE ASS DORKS! They're having such a good time being fluffy af and dismembering people! Also people tend to forget that Pennywise tore Betty Ripsom in half, he didnt just bite her once he probably ripped her apart while she was still alive man. The clown is fucking brutal. I want to explore that a bit more since Leech is a lot more like a paper shredder that will strike up a casual convo while torturing you (she’ll be breaking an arm and go “Oh hey thats a cool shirt what size are you? I think I’m going to keep that when I’m done!”) while Penny’s more like a grizzly bear wood chipper that will dismember you alive while giggling to himself. They both get off on it though, its their shared hobby. 

[realm-of-dragons]

Staff App - Hawks

Played by Admin Grimm

OOC:

Name: Grimm

Age: 21

Preferred Pronouns: Any!

Timezone: PST

Discord: N/A

Any topics you want added to the content warning list?: Pandemics

Second choice character?: Bakugo 

IC:

Name: Takami Keigo AKA “Hawks”

Age: 27

Gender ID / pronouns: Trans Male, He/Him

OTPs, BroTPs, or NoTPS?: EndHawks baby… As far as BroTPs go I’m down for basically anything- I’m hoping for friendship between him and Rumi, but ultimately will be up for whatever has good chemistry/history in the setting of the group.

Race: Skyfolk

Appearance: Hawks is of average height and has a narrow but athletic build. Despite his small size, he holds a great deal of muscle packed into his form, and could probably crush a skull between his thighs if he wanted. He has large, terra cotta colored wings, although he mostly keeps them folded against his back nowadays. His hair is long, messy, and blond, but typically tied back into a braid. 

Role: Prince Consort of the Elves, Elven Ambassador to the Skyfolk, Former Skyfolk Chieftain, and Royal Pain in the Ass.

Skills:

Hawks was once one of the fastest and most acrobatic flyers in his tribe; he still retains some of these skills, although he is limited by his injured shoulder.

Hawks can use both a sword and a bow with deadly accuracy mid flight, and has hunted all sorts of animals to feed his people.

When it comes to grounded combat, however, he is average at best with a blade. He’s still learning to compensate for his newfound lacking mobility.

He is excellent at reading others, a skill which helped him serve as chief, and is dedicated to helping others - it should be noted, however, that his communication skills are solely diplomatic. When it comes to his own personal thoughts and feelings he is garbage at communicating.

Backstory:

( i. )

There exists a species of bird which possesses exceptionally colorful tail feathers. It’s just a pheasant and it struggles to fly, spending most of its days grounded. It poses little threat, but it’s feathers are bright and vibrant and serve as a warning to would-be-predators. ‘Danger,’ they say, and though a bluff, they are quite effective. For the most part, the birds are left alone.

Sometimes(all the time), you’re that bird.

So maybe your feathers are dull, and your wings are average size at best, and you’re nothing particularly special to look at - But that’s not the point.

You’re just like that bird, because all you have to do is flash a vibrant and energized smile, and suddenly you’re the picture perfect representation of what your peers should aspire to be. Never mind your struggles, your anguish, or your pain. Never mind your lost childhood, your missing parents, and your failure at making friends. None of that matters in the slightest. You’re not angry. You’re not upset. You’re not in despair. 

You smile and wave and suddenly, you’re not just some orphaned, washed out, failure of a replacement chief - suddenly, you’re a warrior. A leader. Determined. Hard working. The child prodigy who took over an entire tribe at fourteen. A man who never lets anything drag him down.

It’s better this way.

( ii. )

There’s a species of bird which is preyed upon by anything and everything in its environment. It lives in constant stress and fear of being caught out, torn apart, and eaten - or, it probably would, if it possessed the same sentience as people. It’s small, fluffy, and even as an adult, appears to be newly hatched. It spends most of its life seeking out small bugs and seeds. It hides, in hopes that a predator of its own predator will grant it just a few moments longer.

Sometimes(just today), you’re that bird.

You’ve grown into your role now, more than you thought you might - and maybe the discomfort and the emotional volatility doesn’t really go away, but you’re good at hiding it, and you think that’s good enough.

But you’re just like that bird, helpless in your own environment.

You’ve heard of dragons. You’re not stupid, you know what they are. A dragon took your parents and injured countless others, naturally you’ve been educated. But education and preparation are two very different states of being, and you’re not sure any amount of knowledge could have possibly prepared you. 

You’re meeting with the other elders about something or another. You don’t really remember, after, and it’s probably not important, anyway - the sudden roar and burst of wind warns you too late to completely dodge the claws lunging your direction. 

Dragon.

The aftermath is chaotic; since you’re injured, you’re responsible for leading the evacuation, not for fighting. Every part of your body aches with discontent at running away, but there’d be no point in forcing yourself into combat. It would be stupid, and no matter how chaotic your thoughts might be, you’re not suicidal. So you obey, you lead your people to safety, and you watch as another fells the beast.

After, all you can think about is that you didn’t do anything. But it matters little. The beast is gone. You’re alive. You let a healer see to your injuries.

( iii. )

Today, you’re a fledgling bird about to leave the nest for the first time.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve already learned to fly, that you’re a leader and a warrior, or that you’re more adult than any of your peers will ever be- Today, you leave.

There’s a tradition amongst your people that all must go through before becoming chief - you skipped that, before, because your predecessor expired prematurely and your tribe was desperate for leadership. You had big shoes to fill, and you filled them as needed, but now, it’s time to move on. The dragon plaguing your people is dead, and though you still loathe your lack of involvement in the affair, you’re doing your best to move on with life. That means following tradition. 

It is custom for would-be-chieftains to travel for one year in solitude, surviving entirely off the land and the world around them. When they return, they are given a new title befitting of a leader, and they are welcomed with open arms back into their family.

You don’t really need to do that, all of your tribesmen already accept you as their undisputed leader, but you feel utterly useless when you remember how quickly the dragon struck you down. So you make a decision, and you place someone else in charge as interim leader as you prepare yourself for a long journey.

The thing about fledgling birds, though, is that they very rarely return to their nest of origin. You intend to return, so maybe you’re not like a fledgling at all- 

When you take flight, you feel dread seep into your bones. You keep flying, but you don’t look back, for fear that any glance home may be your last. 

( iv. )

You process the sound, first. Then there’s light, followed by pain, followed by delirium and the sensation of falling. You hit several tree branches as you descend - you know, because you feel the leaves and twigs rake against your flesh - but it’s difficult to determine how many. You hit the ground hard, pain exploding through your young body, and think to yourself, ‘this is it. This is death.’

Then, there’s void.

But you don’t die.

You drift in and out of consciousness for several weeks before you do finally wake. Your surroundings are unfamiliar, full of soft fabrics and lush plant life. You’re… In what appears to be a bed - you think - you know that humans and Elves keep different bedding from your own race, but you’ve never seen one quite like this. It’s soft and much larger than you’re used to, and it seems reflective of wealth and status. 

Pulling yourself into a sitting position takes incredible effort, and you realize with great disdain that your wings are injured. You manage, though, and find yourself looking up at a large Elven man.

So, here’s the state of things: You were struck by lightning. You’re recovering with the Elves, in the king’s guest chambers. This man is the Elven king himself. You’re making good progress. But.

And there’s always a but.

You might never fly again.

It’s… A lot to process. And even in the following weeks, as you regain your strength and begin moving about and exploring your new surroundings, you still struggle to wrap your head around it. Flying has been second nature to you. Instinctual. Another part of your existence as a Skyfolk. You can’t fathom a life without it.

You’re a caged, flightless bird, right now. Enji is nice. Extremely nice. Nicer than he really ought to be, all things considered. You refuse to call him King Todoroki because you like pushing his buttons, and secretly, you think he likes it too. But… There’s still something missing. This isn’t right. You need to finish your journey and return home, but you can’t do that without your flight. No matter how accommodating Enji is, it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re lounging around a golden cage and you really do not belong here.

So when your wings are deemed as healed up as they’ll ever be, you start sneaking out. You can’t get off the ground. Not yet. But you hope with enough practice, someday you’ll soar once again.

( v. )

You’re a hawk, now.

You don’t believe it, personally. Hawks are fierce, powerful, and incredible flyers - you’re weak, emotional, and barely able to slip off the ground on a good day. But Enji insists you’re a hawk, and you can’t bring yourself to argue, because nobody has ever seen your real persona before and thought so highly of it. 

Maybe that’s the nature of your relationship, though. It’s difficult to tell. 

You’re a fighter. You keep trying no matter how many times you fall, because you hate the idea of remaining grounded. Enji is there to catch you, to patch up your scrapes and bruises, and offer encouragement in how own unique way. And finally, when you do manage to take off and soar above the trees, you feel alive. This is what you were missing. 

This is who you are.

But.

You wouldn’t be here without Enji. You’d be dead, or worse - and you’re grateful, you really are, but you don’t know how to ever repay him. Soon you’ll be stable enough to continue with your life, and you’ll need to leave and go home. Enji can’t go with you. He has a kingdom to run, and you’ve accepted that. You tell yourself it’s what’s right. That it was inevitable and this is the way things are meant to be.

But. 

In the months you’ve been with the Elves, you’ve learned their culture and their customs. Maybe you don’t really fit in, but you enjoy their way of life, and you love the people you’ve met. Back home, you had friends and family, sure, but there was so much pressure - For the first time in your entire life, you feel free. Freedom is terrifying. Powerful. You crave it.

You reach a crossroads. Go home and face your responsibilities or stay and learn to enjoy your life. It’s not an easy decision to make - there was so much resting on your shoulders, and maybe there still is, because you’re expected to return, sooner or later.

But.

You’re a hawk. You’re fierce, determined, and you follow your heart. 

So you stay.

Extras:

Hawks can still fly, but he reaches his limit much faster due to his previous injury. He chooses to just walk most places instead, keeping his wings tucked against his back when he’s in motion to better balance the weight. 

He is a little spoon at heart, but tends to be a big spoon in practice due to his absurdly large wings. He has to sleep on his stomach or his side to get comfortable.

Hawks loves fried foods, particularly fried birds; he’s been told this could be interpreted as cannibalistic, but refuses to stop eating meat anytime soon.

Keigo was his birth name, and although he is trans, he does not find discomfort with it because of dysphoria; it’s a remnant of his parents, and Skyfolk gender is wonky anyway.

In spite of that, Hawks only allows his former tribesmen to call him Keigo; he much prefers to be called Hawks.

Writing sample:

Keigo’s been in a weird sort of state lately. The injuries haven’t exactly helped his energy levels, sure, but given he’s mostly recovered, he should be able to get out of his bed and wander. And still, he’s skipping meals. Choosing to lay around. A stranger might consider him lazy. Enji doesn’t berate him for the behavior, and Keigo considers that a miracle. He doesn’t know if he could handle judgement over this melancholy. Not like he can control it, anyhow. 

So they spend the days talking. Sometimes Enji reads to him. Keigo had never imagined how deep and rich the Elven culture is - he’d heard some things, in passing. The Elves were mostly isolated, before, so whatever he had heard was mostly secondhand, and, as Keigo is now learning, incorrect.

They’re sitting in bed, Keigo pressed firmly against Enji’s side. He’s been told that Elves don’t ordinarily allow this type of contact, but Keigo’s never been pushed away, and it’s one of the few things that keeps him grounded. Enji sets aside the scroll he’d been reading from and gently runs a hand over Keigo’s feathers.

“I’ve told you much about my people, but I’ve not heard much of yours.” 

Keigo stiffens. “I didn’t think you’d want to learn about them.”

“I do. I don’t even know why you ended up so far from them.” 

Well, that’s fair. Keigo supposes that, at the very least, he owes an explanation. That much information is hardly a concealed secret, just… Emotional? No. That’s not the right word, but he doesn’t have any better way to describe it. He shrugs. “It’s tradition for future chieftains to travel for a year, prior to taking charge. A right of passage, you know. When they return home, they take a new name, and are given the honor of leading.” He smiles softly as he speaks, the familiarity giving him some small comfort in this bittersweet reality.

Enji frowns. “You were to be chief, then?”

“Oh, yes. I was. I won’t be, now. I can’t fly.” As if to prove his point, Keigo attempts to move his left wing, the one that took the brunt of the lightning strike. It barely twitches.

“You still could. My healers don’t know much of your anatomy, your wings might still recover.”

Keigo really, truly wants to believe him, but he’s sick and tired of getting his hopes up. He’s probably not going to regain his flight. There’s no point fixating on a fantasy. Not when it only brings disappointment. He leans closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of Enji’s neck. “Please don’t… I can’t...”

“Keigo.” Enji’s voice is strong, firm, and determined. Keigo bites at his lip, muscles tensing. “You’re strong. You want to recover, and you will.” Then, after a pause, he asks, “you’re given new names when you return, as a sign of strength?”

Hesitantly, Keigo nods. “Yeah…” 

“Then allow me to give you one now. You’re a fighter. You’ve shown me that much with your… Fiery attitude.” 

Oh, that’s one way to phrase it.

After a nod, Enji continues. “You’re a bird of prey, fierce. Powerful. Agile, fast, cunning, and a bit of an ass sometimes, even when you’re still recovering. But you’re a creature to be revered and awed. Like a swarm of hawks.”

“Hawks…” Keigo says, the name foreign on his tongue. “My name is… Hawks.” 

Maybe, just maybe, he can get used to it, in time.

[missleias]

jubilant.

Inspired by an otp prompt from @blusterprose. Takes place almost a year after Trespasser.  this is for day 6 of the Cullen appreciation week. Enjoy!

Zara hummed as she leaned against the stone entryway to the balcony in Skyhold, watching how the sun’s rays shimmered upon the freshly fallen snow, projecting numerous colors into the sky. Her thumb caressed her wedding band, a nervous tick that she had recently acquired. Though she hummed, her mind was far from the melody that escaped her lips. It was back among Haven, to the first time she met Cullen, how strong and distant he was; to the way she felt when she heard his voice again, blurred by the roaring mountain winds, after what happened with Corypheus; the knot that seemed to tangle up her guts every time she faced a red templar, how her thoughts would jump to the Commander, Maker, how she imagined what she would do if she had to face him as one of those templars, crimson, angry , a lost man;  the joy that filled her soul when she felt his lips upon hers the first time they kissed, the way he smiled at her, eyes wrinkling, how happy he was. Finally her in her mind’s eye, she wandered to a time not too long ago, when they both stood in front of Mother Giselle, Zara's clan, and their close friends, binding themselves together, as husband and wife. Sometimes, in her lowest, hardest moments, she did not think she deserved him, someone who had been through hell, but was so kind . But then Cullen would remind her how the both of them saved each other. Zara was startled from her reverie by a deep, amused voice. “Never seen anyone gaze at the sun so lovingly. Should I be jealous?” Turning to look at the intruder, the Inquisitor grinned, her turquoise orbs twinkling. “Perhaps, my love. After all, he is so handsome and warm .” She replied, one hand upon Cullen’s broad shoulders, with the other teasingly running its fingers across his open chest. “How could I ever compete with that? I suppose I will just have to wander around Orlais, heartbroken, until some poor, rich baroness takes pity on me. Maybe one of the ladies that attended the ball at the Winter Palace. They did admire my best features, after all.” Cullen teased, barely able to contain his laughter when he saw the annoyance flash on Zara’s face, the tips of her pointed ears hot as coals. “Ha! They dare to try any of that and they will not be able to curtsy for a week.” She whirled on her heel, acting haughty as she strode towards the couch, but Cullen rushed behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pecking her cheek. “Not so fast.” He breathed, the air tickling her neck. She moaned, leaning back as he left a trail of kisses down to her shoulder. Goosebumps rose, and leaned back against him. “How about we spend all morning here? I could have Leliana postpone our meetings and we can have lunch. Snatch some vintage wine from Dorian, nibble on apricots and cheese, not the bluish kind, but the tangy one from Nevarra.” Cullen murmured. “That sounds perfect. Let me just send off yesterday’s paperwork to Josie for her to sign.” Zara gently unwrapped herself from his inviting embrace, squeezing his hand before heading towards her mahogany carved desk. Out of nowhere, a wave of nausea overcame her, freezing her in her steps. Her heartbeat sped up, and she became lightheaded; she fell down to her knees, fingers tightly anchoring her to the bedpost. Her skin was stark pale against the ink of her vallasin, transforming her face into a winter-touched oak. “Zar! Zara, are you okay?” In an instant, Cullen was by her side, panic in the tone of his voice. “Maker’s breath, you’re pale! We should get you to a healer.” Zara could only nod, not wanting to risk opening her eyes lest she saw her breakfast for the second time. Slowly, Cullen lead her to the main hall, across the courtyard and to the healer’s office, right by the Chantry garden. Along the way, the landscape was dotted with confused, worried faces. Cullen simply brushed them all off with a wave of his hand, hoping that would reassure the people for the time being. I can’t even remember the last time she was like this. The whole fortress could be hacking up a storm, and Zara would be as bright as she normally is. Probably because of her elvhen blood. Maybe letting Varric plan the feast for the Orzammar dignitaries was not the best idea; the sheep dish seemed more exotic than I have had before. When they reached the office, they were greeted by a short, blonde woman named Rosemary in the middle years of her life, her hands rough from years of crushing herbs and making poultices, with a kind smile and a personality both stern and nurturing. Her eyes widened when she saw the ill Dalish woman. “Oh, you poor dear! Come, sit by the fire. I will bring you some tea while the Commander here explains what is happening.” After Zara was settled, Rosemary hurried over to a table that was decorated with vials and bowls, with lush, fragrant plants hanging from the ceiling. While Cullen was speaking to the healer, Zara’s eyes wandered. The walls were made from cobblestone, tinted orange by the flames. On the right was a decent-sized bed, embellished with hand-stitched wool and cotton blankets, in varying patterns that were foreign to her. Above the fire was a black kettle, filled with water bubbling. It was small, but cozy. In the far corner was another door, which Zara supposed lead to Rosemary’s own quarters. Still somewhat uneasy, the warrior fiddled with the hem of her plum dress. Cullen had finished speaking, nervously running his hand through his golden locks. His eyes searched for any answers that Rosemary could give him. “Ah. Well, from what you told me it seems to be something that is affecting her stomach, causing her to become dizzy and lose her balance. Could be a sudden onset of the flu, but even then, there are other symptoms that are missing. I take it that you do not have any muscle soreness or fatigue?” Rosemary inquired, looking at Zara while she crushed lemon peel, mint, and dandelion petals together. Zara shook her head, her ebony strands bouncing. “No, not that I can recall. I was somewhat more tired than usual when I awoke this morning. Also, now that I think about it, lately certain smells that never bothered me before cause my stomach to turn when I come across them.” Rosemary pursed her lips. “Hmmm. Interesting.” She added some of the herbal mix to a powdery blue clay mug before pouring hot water into it, stirring it quickly. Cullen’s eyebrows furrowed at his wife. “Really? You never mentioned it to me.” “I never thought it was anything to worry about. At least until now.” Zara replied, confusion flooding her. Did she catch something from her recent visit to Denerim? Noticing her expression, Cullen placed a hand on her arm, massaging with his calloused fingers. Rosemary handed the tea to Zara, a wry smile etched on her face. “I think I have figured out what is occurring. My dear, when was your last bleeding? About three, four moons past?” Zara began to tremble, her emotions racing. “Yes, yes, it was.” Rosemary’s smile grew wider. “This is not the flu. I believe that you are with child.” Cullen stared at Zara, his mouth agape. “Ch-child? We--us--huh?” His eyes were both stunned and hopeful. "But the odds for a couple like us--I mean, we knew it would be hard--we haven't even been trying--How?" Carefully putting the tea aside, Zara raised herself up, arms instinctively finding themselves around Cullen, hands cupping his stubbled jaw. Tears filled up her eyes as he oh-so-tenderly placed his hands upon her abdomen with a fond look. “Zar, we’re going to be parents. Parents!”   She laughed, gladness filling every beat of her heart. Her eyes took in every detail of his face, the way his eyes shone, how overjoyed and free he was. She never wanted to forget any of it. This was worth every burden and trouble I have went through. I would stand against Corypheus a thousand times if it meant Cullen and I would have this. Our future. Crashing her lips against his, Zara held onto him tighter as he swung her around, the tips of her boots brushing the stone floor. Quietly, Rosemary excused herself, wanting to let the two of them be. The news would soon spread faster than wildfire across Skyhold anyways. That one dwarf has eyes and ears in every corner. Probably why he can sell so many books, she thought with a chuckle.   fin.

[royaltyjunk]

Ocean Witch [T, Sequelshipping]

Summary:

Not Hugh and Rosa, though. They’re not the ones getting married, they’re not the ones walking down the aisle together as the cheers rise from the people around them.

Author’s Ideas: 2/4 of my birthday gifts to you guys. I need to write something for Pokémon, so. Yeah. Also, Sequelshipping is one of my OTPs like mmm that’s some good shit-

Disclaimer: Obviously don’t own Pokémon.

They get married on the Royal Unova with the sun setting in the background, setting the sea afire in a burst of sparkles.

Not Hugh and Rosa, though. They’re not the ones getting married, they’re not the ones walking down the aisle together as the cheers rise from the people around them. It’s Rosa and some movie star that Hugh knows, but is just too anguished to remember.

N taps Hugh’s shoulder, and he jolts up. “What?”

“We’re going inside now. Dinner’s being served. You’ve been sitting out here for long enough. Come with us.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Hugh grunts, stumbling up from his seat. N reaches out to steady him, but Hugh shrugs off his hand, hurrying to catch up with the crowd, disappearing down the stairs inside the boat.

Hilda, at the end of the crowd, turns at the sound of pounding footsteps. Hugh slows beside her, and she pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, soft enough for only him to hear. “It must suck.”

Hugh doesn’t respond, and Hilda glances at him worriedly.

N sidles up next to him, and Hugh pushes forward through the crowd. As he leaves behind Hilda and N, he hears her whisper to her husband, “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” N answers in his quiet voice, “love does that.”

Hugh speeds up his walking pace in response, and almost bumps into Cheren, who is walking in front of him. Cheren grunts, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes flash with an unidentifiable emotion, and he falls into step with the young man.

“You all act like I’m going to bite your heads off,” Hugh mutters. “I don’t see why.”

Cheren’s mouth twitches into a slight smile. “We never know with you, Hugh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hugh growls.

“Whatever you want it to mean,” Cheren responds cryptically, adjusting his tie. Hugh cocks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say another word.

They’re all seated in the dining room afterwards, which fills with chattering and gossiping. Drinks and food are served, and he eats in silence. Hugh lowers his gaze, staring at his clenched hands settled in his lap.

Cheren sits in the seat beside him silently. Bianca smiles at the two of them from her seat beside Cheren. N nods at the childhood friends, and Hilda waves at them from beside her husband.

He ignores the worried eyes on him, glaring at every gaze he manages to catch. They all avert their eyes sheepishly, and he sighs.

“This is ridiculous,” he murmurs under his breath.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Cheren responds sharply, “we’re just worried about you. All of us are.”

Hugh just rolls his eyes and clenches his fists under the table. He lets out an angry breath, and N glances at him from the corner of his eyes before turning his head away pointedly, leaning over to whisper in Hilda’s ear.

“Leave him be,” Hilda mutters back, before standing and raising her voice. “Might I propose a toast? To Rosa, Nate, and their love.”

Mutters of approval drift through the boat, and everyone toasts to them. A boisterous laugh bubbles out of Hilda, and everyone joins in. Hugh uses the din to slip away, ignoring Bianca and N calling for him.

The black-haired man steps onto the deck of the Royal Unova, leaning over the railing. He stares out over the ship, onto the sea that reflects the setting sun in his eyes. The ocean is set ablaze by the large star in the sky, and sparkles with red, orange, pink and white, all sorts of colors that reflect in his eyes.

“What are you doing out here?” Rosa’s light voice asks from behind him, weaved with happiness.

“Looking at the sea like I always do,” Hugh responds, trying to keep the dullness out of his voice. “What are you doing out here? It’s your wedding, you should be inside.”

“I couldn’t find you, that’s why.” Rosa pops up next to him. “I thought you’d be out here, and voila.”

He snorts and attempts to hide his smirk, but she catches it and pouts at him.

“Hugh, you bully.”

“You’re welcome, Rosa.” His smile blossoms, and she nudges him gently. He holds still, staring out over the vast sparkling sea. She goes silent next to him, following his gaze across the sea.

“I wish I could get in,” Hugh murmurs regretfully. “Water’s always helped me, you know?”

“Even if today’s supposed to be a happy day?” She tilts her head, and Hugh flinches.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just-” He sighs, turning away. “It’s hard to explain, okay?”

“Well, if I could,” Rosa turns to look at him, a bright look in her eyes, “I’d jump in with you.”

“Thanks, Rosa.” He gives her a genuine smile back.

“Rosa!” Her husband peeks his head out from the inside of the Royal Unova. “Rosa! There you are!”

“Is something wrong?” She asks, turning and hurrying to Nate’s side.

“No, it’s just… I couldn’t find you. Hilda was also looking for you earlier. Try not to wander off, okay? This is our wedding, not mine.”

“But…” Rosa sighs and smiles. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure of something. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Good,” Nate mutters, pressing a kiss to her temple. He looks up and locks eyes with Hugh. The black-haired man nods, and Nate gives him a half-smile before leaving. Rosa casts a helpless look between her childhood friend and her husband. Hugh shrugs before turning away.

He hears the door close behind him, and sighs. He should really think about something else. Not about her, not about his unrequited love.

So he lowers his head and lets the wind and churning waves against the side of the boat whisper broken and false promises into his ear that he knows won’t come true.

~ / . / . / ~

The soft winds brush over the expanding sea, lapping at his shoes. He sighs, kicking them away, rolling his pants up, and drawing his toe through the hot sands. He glances up at the sound of children giggling, and watches them run up and down the wooden docks of Humilau City. With a grunt, he plops down into the warm golden sand, ignoring the bits of sand that crawl and rub against his bare skin.

Marlon’s boisterous laugh echoes through the warm atmosphere, and Hugh glances over the ocean, spotting the gym leader atop his Wailord as he surfs the waves wildly. The water splashes ruthlessly against the docks and laps at the windows of the wooden huts, but no one comes out to complain or yell. It’s normal to see the Water-type specialist goofing off instead of doing his job.

“Gym Leader Marlon! Can I ride with you!?”

“Shucks, little guy, I wish you could! But I got some catching up to do with an old friend!” Marlon’s voice draws closer, and the waves that once lapped softly at Hugh now tear violently through the sand. The black-haired trainer just sighs as Marlon hops off his Wailord and lands beside him.

“How are you, old pal?”

“Not good,” Hugh mutters, and Marlon nods understandingly.

“It’s hard to get over something like that, isn’t it?”

Rosa’s childhood friend sighs, turning his head away. Marlon stretches out to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but remembers his dripping wet fingers, and settles for patting Hugh’s knee gently.

“Sorry, dude. I wish I could help you.”

“It’s not like I need help anyways,” Hugh lets out another deep sigh, and glances up at the bright blue sky. “I’ll get over it someday.”

“Well, what does someday mean to you? Tomorrow? Or in forty years?”

Marlon’s former challenger stares up at him with awe and terror in his eyes. “Marlon, you’re getting all philosophical again.”

“Heh. Sorry, man.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, his blue hair rustling, and Hugh forces a laugh out of himself.

“No, it’s not bad. It’s just jarring hearing you switch… personalities, for lack of a better word, so quickly.”

“You think so? Man, I should do that more often then.”

“Please don’t. I can’t imagine how freaked out all the other gym leaders would be, not to mention the Elite Four. And Rosa.”

The air around them silences as Hugh brings up his unrequited love, and a gloomy mood descends over the two trainers.

“Well…” Marlon coughs, gesturing awkwardly off into the distance, in the general direction of his gym. “I gotta get back. Never know when new challengers pop up, right?”

“Yeah.” Hugh nods understandingly. “I got it. Go ahead.”

The blue-haired gym leader leaps onto the Wailord waiting nearby, calling back to Hugh, “I’ll see you then!”

Hugh waves, and Marlon takes off. The black-haired trainer stands up and stretches, a great yawn escaping his stretched mouth. He releases his Samurott, and the Water-type turns to stare at its trainer. A gentle breeze kicks up, and he runs his hands through his spiked hair.

“Come on. In the water you go, bud. I’m right behind you.”

Samurott grunts and slides into the water effortlessly. With a reaffirmation that his pants are rolled up, he walks into the sea, wincing a bit at the frosty coldness of the water. Hugh lifts his eyes up to the clear blue sky, feeling the water lapping at his thighs and knees. A feeling of nostalgia courses through him, and he feels his eyes drifting closed.

“Still as attached to the water as you ever were, huh, Hugh?”

His eyes snap open and he tries to hide his flinch at the sound of her voice, murmuring softly under his breath, “Rosa.” Samurott lets out a soft cry.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. The crunch of sand behind him and the nearing of her voice tells him she’s walking closer to him.

“Enjoying a break. It’s tiring to be a part of the Elite Four, you know?”

“I can imagine,” Rosa murmurs, and the crunching and gentle movements behind him stop.

Taking in a deep breath, he turns abruptly, sending water skidding across the smooth blue sea and forming ripples.

The brown-haired movie star stands at the edge of the water, backing away whenever the lapping waves get a little too close to her heeled feet. One hand clings to the strap of her bag and the other props the sunglasses up onto the top of her head, resting in her chestnut brown hair. The zephyr gently brushes at her sundress, and loose strands from her bun sways alongside it.

“So? What are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed time off to see my friends?” Rosa teases. “Caitlin said I’d find you here.”

He twitches. “This is why I’d prefer not to be friends with a psychic.”

She snorts. “Better than Grimsley. He’d have sucked all your money out of you with that gambling addiction he has.”

“A man as old as him, gambling? Not too hard to see.” He grins as Rosa swats him playfully. “Where is he now, anyways?”

“Some faraway region named Alola?” She shrugs. “The postcards came in right after you took your leave a few weeks ago, according to Marshall.”

“Mm,” he grunts, and then pauses. “Hey, you want to get in the water with me?”

“Now?” She asks incredulously.

“Yeah. Just a little wade. You said you were free, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “You’re lucky I’m your friend, you know?”

“Thanks, Rosa,” Hugh grins, and she smirks back. She kicks off her heels and leans down to pick them up, holding both in one hand. Slowly, she makes her way through the ocean to Hugh’s side, squeaking a bit at the cold water. He bites back a snort, waiting for her to get to his side. Samurott swims over to her side, and his childhood friend laughs as it nuzzles against her legs playfully.

“See? That wasn’t too bad, now, was it?”

“It was fun,” Rosa admits, “but Nate will be worrying about me. I should really be getting back now.”

Hugh struggles to keep the smile on his face from falling off at the mention of her husband. “No problem. Sorry for dragging you in.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I told you, it was fun. Maybe I’ll do it more often.” Rosa gives him a bright smile gripping her heels in her hand. Raising a Pokéball above her head, she calls out Dragonite, who lets her climb on before dipping its head at Hugh and zooming off into the sky.

Hugh shields his eyes, watching her fly away. When she gets so small that she’s just a speck of multiple colors in the sky, he turns to Samurott, letting his smile falter.

“You up for a surf, Samurott? And hearing me rant?”

~ / . / . / ~

Samurott glides through the water effortlessly, and Hugh stands atop its back as it coasts through the Undella Bay, a common sight nowadays to those that live in the small beachside town. Hugh sighs, running his hands through his slightly damp hair.

“I feel terrible,” he complains.

Samurott grunts, an annoyed but amused look painting itself over its face. Its lips turn up in a smile, and Hugh swats at it. It lets out a deep sound akin to a laugh, and Hugh scoffs, patting it on the side of its head. “Alright, you dork. Turn around, head back to land. You’re not going to be the only one in the water soon.”

His partner snorts, pushing through the water and swerving in a large turn, jetting through the water towards the speck of beach in the distance. Hugh squints as his eyes catch a lone figure, standing on the edge of the ocean’s lapping waves. He tenses as they draw closer, identifying them as one person that he did not want to see.

Samurott could feel Hugh tense up, but instead of turning away like his trainer wanted him to, the Water-type thrust himself forward, propelling through the water at speeds Hugh had never seen it done before.

“Samurott, stop,” Hugh growls. Samurott speeds up, and Hugh loses his footing, slipping off his partner’s back. In a flash, Samurott has his tail around Hugh’s waist and is holding him above the water as he jets through it, rapidly approaching the beachside.

Tingly laughter reaches both their ears long before Samurott hauls himself into the hot white sands and deposits Hugh beside him.

“I tell you I feel terrible, and you treat me like this?” Hugh glares up at his partner.

Rosa pats Samurott on the back. “Congratulations, you’ve humiliated your trainer!”

“That’s not an achievement to be proud of,” the black-haired trainer butts in.

“It is,” Rosa whispers, deliberately loud enough for Hugh to hear. He swivels his glare to her, but can’t keep it up, and they both dissolve into peals of laughters that fills the beachside.

“So? What are you doing here?” He asks once they’ve quieted down.

“Nate and I are looking for a new place to live. We love Aspertia City, but it gets a little tedious having to fly there and back, now that PokéStar Studios is in Nimbasa. We’ll probably live here when we filming. Sort of like a vacation house, I guess?”

“Oh, so you were the ones checking out that big mansion.”

“How did you know?”

“Caitlin told me. Well, more specifically, she heard from Cynthia.” Hugh stands, stretching. He unzips his jacket, and Rosa raises an eyebrow at him when she notices that he’s wearing no shirt underneath, and that his shorts are swim trunks.

Hugh shrugs and directs his attention to her. “are you coming along for a swim?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “I don’t have any extra clothes on me, and the ones I’m wearing are way too complicated for me to even try and figure out.”

He rolls his eyes, handing his jacket to her. “Whatever you want, Movie Star Rosa.”

Samurott dives into the water with him, and even when the sun sets, they continue to swim. Whenever he comes back to shore, Hugh feels his heart surge because Rosa is still standing there throughout the night, a glimmer of unidentifiable emotion in her eyes.

~ / . / . / ~

Hugh nods to the band members, who wave back and continue to play their song of the Village Bridge.

He makes his way under the bridge, standing beside the trash can that Rosa had once fished the Leftovers item out of. He crouches and runs his hands through the clean water, letting it swirl at his fingertips.

Samurott jumps out of its Pokéball, and Hugh shares an understanding look with it. It lowers its head and slips into the water, ready for Hugh to hop on. He lifts a foot up, placing it on his partner’s back and crouching, ready to jump on.

“There you are!”

Hugh glances up, seeing Rosa jump off of her Dragonite and land beside him.

“We’re you looking for me?” He asks.

“Iris is. There’s a new challenger. He’s currently battling Shauntal, and she’s down to her last Pokémon.”

 “Okay. Just give me a second.” He turns back to his partner in the water.

She sighs as she notices he has one foot on Samurott’s back and legs crouched, ready to leap somewhere. She has a good guess as to where that somewhere is.

“Swimming? Again?”

“Not a swim. Just a quick little surf. Want to join in?”

“No thanks. I… have to leave. I have to tell Iris where you are.”

“That sucks,” Hugh comments, crouching beside Samurott. “But come on. I’ll surf over to the other side of the river. I’ll come back to get you, I promise.”

Rosa narrows her eyes and doesn’t say a word as Hugh hops onto Samurott.

When he turns around at the other side of the river to call to her, she’s gone.

~ / . / . / ~

It’s dark, and Roxie’s band is blaring somewhere in the background. He doesn’t care.

He downs the soda can in his hands, crumpling the aluminum in his hand. Dropping the garbage into a trash can nearby, he leans against the outside wall of the old clubhouse. A particularly popular song starts up. People scream. He plugs his ears, a low growl starting up from the back of his throat. Someone taps his shoulder, and he whips around.

“Hugh,” Rosa says his name in a strange way that she’s never said it. He glances at her, and- is that disgust in her eyes and repulsiveness in her figure?

“Hey,” he replies nonchalantly, trying to ignore the churning feelings in his gut.

“What are you… doing here?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I got an invitation from Roxie.”

“So did I.” Rosa’s eyes flash purple in the flickering light of Roxie’s gym sign, and they’re brimmed with comfort, happiness, nostalgia, feelings that Hugh has long since forgotten. “Do you want to go with me?”

“Where’s Nate?” Hugh practically spits. “Shouldn’t he be with you?”

“Hugh, look. Just because he’s my husband, doesn’t mean he has to follow me everywhere.”

“‘Wherever you are, he is, and wherever he is, you are’,” Hugh retorts, using his fingers to make air quotes. “I’m just saying. Maybe you guys should work out something less clingy.”

Rosa stares at him, horrified. “Hugh, what-”

He cuts her off. “Or are you guys too busy playing husband and wife, or mommy and daddy of some imaginary family? Listen, I’m the one who deserved you, Rosa! Not some shitty movie star! Who was there when you got your first Pokémon? When you defeated Team Plasma? When you made it through the Victory Road? When you filmed your first blockbuster film? Me, not him.” Hugh stops to take a breath, but turns away. “Go. Have your fun. Who cares at this point?”

“This is why I didn’t marry you!” Rosa bursts. “You think you’re so great! When will you be humbled, Hugh? Huh?” She reaches out and grabs him brusquely by the shoulder, spinning him around. “The world isn’t about what you and what you want, okay!? I’ve told you this so many times, but do you listen? No! This is why I’d never marry you!”

“And you think he’s any better!?” Hugh yells.

“He’s better than you!” The movie star glares at her rival before shoving him away. “I thought I loved you. I thought I knew you. I guess I didn’t.”

Hugh spins on his heel, taking angry steps down the street leading him away from his lost love and towards the sea, the pitch black ocean of sorrows and loss.

“Where are you going?” Rosa calls after him.

“Somewhere where you won’t find me,” he retorts back, and trots down the port.

“Are you going for another swim? Why do you like the ocean so much anyways?”

He ignores her words and keeps walking towards the soft breeze of the sea that calls him, like a witch with a magical staff that promises he can mend Hugh’s broken heart.

He gives in to the soothing wind and the smell of salt, even though he knows he’ll never get better.

That they’ll never get better.