#it was suuuuuuper filling

[rosicheeks]

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

07: What did you last eat? (I bet it's goldfishies)

26: What are you craving right now? (I bet it's goldfishies)

31: Does somebody love you? (I do Princess)

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

2 - my parents 💖

7 - chocolate cake 🤭

26 - I’m not craving any food right now tbh. I’m craving love and financial stability and a comfy cozy house

31 - I hope so

40 - if skinny dipping counts then yes? Otherwise no lol

[akkivee]

i like that nagosaka don’t have any beef with each other but i do want them to develop more as opposite teams like the og divisions are. like the brain randomly recalled how bat has a theme of ‘open eyes’ while all of dh are designed with obscured eyes of some sort and that’s really cool, i’d love to see more of it lol

[cheswirls]

took me 23 in-game hours to finish replaying soa and now i have access to all 3 wfc postgame missions that i don't think i ever got to play as a kid

[lovebugism]

could I request maybe shy!reader trying to play dnd with eddie but she's suuuuuuper nervous and confused and internally panicking about him not liking her anymore if she can't get into it?? Or if you wanna change it up please do!! love you!!

love you! hope you like it! — you get insecure about not liking d&d when a girl joins hellfire (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish, established relationship, 1.4k)

The Hellfire room is void of the boyish bodies that usually fill it. The abandoned classroom, turned freak sanctuary, is now littered with pieces the rogues, clerics, and bards left behind — in half-empty soda cans and crumbled-up bags of potato chips.

While Eddie packs up his binder, filled to the brim with miscellaneous papers, you wander around the long table with a trashcan in hand. The wild-haired boy squints when you chuck Dustin’s crushed Pepsi in the bin. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie huffs through his nose, feeling too exhausted now to argue. He slides his binder into his bag and watches you rake Gareth’s chip crumbs into the trashcan. The urge to stop you becomes unignorable then. 

“Okay, well, you know what? I mind—” the boy retorts, striding the very short distance to you and snatching the bin from your grip. He smiles a crooked grin and continues in a fantastical accent. “—‘Cause the Dungeon Master’s queen shouldn’t have to clean up after a bunch of lowborns, alright?”

You roll your eyes with a subdued giggle. “Someone’s gotta do it, Eds,” you insist as you reach for the plastic container he took. You exhale sharply when he hides it further behind him, pulling it further out of your way. “I wanna be of some use around here!”

Eddie’s face twists. “Don’t say that.”

You cower beneath his stare. “Well… It’s not like I actually play or anything. I just kinda… sit around… And watch you guys do everything…”

“Well, why would you play?” he laughs. “You don’t even like D&D.”

Something in the way he says it makes you ache. You’ve always felt distantly horrible about it — failing to take interest in something he holds so close to his heart. Hearing him reiterate that fact twists the knife lodged in your chest.

“That doesn’t bother you?” you wonder, impossibly shy. “That I don’t play?”

Eddie shrugs and sits the bin down again. “Why would that bother me?” he scoffs.

“I don’t know… ‘Cause you like it. And it’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world.”

“Well… Maybe not my favorite thing,” he croons with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your nose scrunches in disdain. His laughter fills the empty room as his ringed hands spread warm along your sides. “I just feel bad,” you confess, gaze averted to the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “You know, that I can’t get into or whatever.”

Eddie meets your subtle pout with an unbothered grin. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. People like different things, babe. That’s life,” he assures you, squeezing softly at your sides. “I mean, it’s no different than me hating The Smiths, right? I still let you play their cassettes in the van, and you still sit in on all my campaigns— and that, sweetheart, is the meaning of true love…”

Unswayed, you jerk softly back when he leans down to kiss you. You frown up at him with your arms crossed between your bodies. “But Rory loves D&D. And she’s super pretty…”

Aurora Edwards was the newest edition to the Hellfire gang. She goes by Rory for short, though, ‘cause she’s cool like that and everything. Her dyed blonde hair is as wild as Eddie’s, cut into a makeshift mullet that sits sort of shaggy on her head — intentionally messy in a way only she can pull off. 

She likes cool music and cool clothes and cool hobbies — because everything she does seems to have some sort of subverted flair to it. She’s smart and she’s nerdy and she’s beautiful. None of which seem fair. You’ve been stirring with feelings of inadequacy since you met her. 

And Eddie doesn’t seem to get any of it. His brows furrow at your words, like none of them have any sort of meaning to him.

“She’s way more your type than I am,” you blurt.

A laugh sputters from his plush mouth. “You think my love for you is contingent on some stupid game?” he chuckles.

The way he says it makes you shrink. You feel sort of stupid about it now. “I don’t know…”

“Well, then, I have done a very shit job of being your boyfriend.”

Your chest stings. “No, you haven’t, Eddie—”

“Mm,” he hums, half playful, as he tilts his pretty head to his shoulder. “I have, though. ‘Cause if you think some other girl liking Dungeons and Dragons is gonna make me love you any less, then I have done something horribly, horribly wrong.”

You bite back a smile at his words, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth until the beam becomes impossible to ignore.

“‘Cause you’re kinda stuck with me, turns out,” the boy continues. “Unfortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yeah. ‘Cause if some other schmuck comes around who likes listening to The Smiths and sitting in the sunshine, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. “I don’t want another guy, Eds…” you confess, going shy all over again.

His nose scrunches as he plays coy. “Even if he doesn’t smoke?” he wonders in a sheepish murmur.

“Even if he doesn’t smoke.”

“Good,” he beams, pulling you into him by your belt loops. His breath fans over your jaw in a minty-nicotine concoction as he ducks his face closer to yours. “‘Cause I don’t want anyone else, either, alright? Even if they are almost as good as me at D&D… Actually, it’s kinda a turn-off, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Is it?”

“Yeah… ‘Cause, like, I love teaching you about it and everything.”

“Even when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Especially when you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks speckle pink. “‘Cause you know how much I like it, so… You let me talk all the shit I want.”

“’S just because you’re so pretty when you talk about things you like,” you confess.

His face twists. “Am I?”

“Well, you’re pretty all the time, but…”

“You flatter me,” he huffs and pulls you closer. He smirks and goes quieter when he says, “And flattery goes a long way with me.”

“Does it?” you hum with a sunshine-coated giggle.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He just presses his lips to your mouth and hopes you get the gist. His tongue swipes against yours, soft and sudden, as he guides you towards the table. You run into a rogue chair before he can get you on top of it. It screeches against the linoleum tile. 

With his face in your hands, you giggle against his mouth. His denim-clad knee slips between your thighs.

The door squeaks softly open then. Rory enters, swift and unthinking. You and Eddie pull apart — one looking much more horrified than the other — as the blonde girl stands frozen in the doorway. Drowning in her sweatshirt and baggy jeans, she points a lanky finger towards the table.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, voice gritty and deep. “I just left my girlfriend’s jacket here, and she doesn’t know I stole it, so… She’d definitely kill me if I forgot it.”

“That’s okay. Come in,” Eddie shrugs with a tightlipped smile, nodding his head in a silent invitation. When Rory plucks the coat from the back of her chair, he says, “Tell Jess I said hi, yeah?”

The girl scoffs as she heads back towards the door again, leaving just as quickly as she came. “She still hates you, you know that, right?” she laughs. ‘Cause Jess was a cheerleader — pretty and sometimes kind, but dreadfully conservative. Her uptight nature often clashed with Eddie’s much more chaotic one. 

“Well, tell her to get in line,” Eddie chuckles.

Before Rory leaves the room, she glances at the two of you over her shoulder. She winks with an eye smudged with black liner. “Have fun, you two,” she croons in a pretty voice before shutting the door behind her.

You stand, still and silent in place, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. Feeling like a total idiot, you refuse to meet Eddie’s gaze. You know he’s got a smug look on his face. You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See? Not my type at all.”

[mlm-mod-taka]

Hi there! I'm here to request a little something I've had bouncing around in my head a while and I feel like you'd do a great job at writing it! I'd like to request Taka, Gundham, Fuyu, and Kiyo with an S/O who's basically a giant compared to them and is suuuuuuper affectionate and friendly. Like the first time they met, the reader picked them up and basically swooped then into a hug raving about how adorable they are. You don't have to do it ofc, but if you agree to I CANNOT wait to see the

HAVING A BIG, AFFECTIONATE, FRIENDLY S/O • taka, gundham & fuyuhiko x gn reader

first off, i just want to say i am so sorry that you had to wait for so long, i just got back from my two year long break. second, im also sorry, however, i do not write for korekiyo, so i simply didn't include him. i do apologize for not asking if you wanted to replace him with another character, this request has been pending for so long that i decided against it. third, this is more a story in bullet point form than actual headcanons. despite all of this, i hope you can still enjoy this long awaited request.

tws/cws: yelling, cursing, threatening and violence. (mostly during fuyuhiko's part)

|| -> mod taka <3

at first, kiyotaka will admit that he was quite intimidated by you. seeing someone extremely taller than him isn't an everyday occurrence. yes, many other people were taller than him, but not by such a large degree, usually.

however, if he stood next to you, he'd seem like an overgrown child. so, naturally he was on-edge whenever you were near him, since you could probably easily beat him up if you wanted to.

but he had to remind himself that he was the ultimate moral compass! it doesnt matter how strong or large you are, he will discipline and scold you when it was needed. he will never back down from a fight when it comes to morals, even if he could easily lose that fight.

when you two first met, he decided to make the polite decision to introduce himself. once he was done with his maticulously-worded greeting, (that he had planned last night) he was expecting you to respond in a rude tone, filling the delinquent expectations that he had made of you based on your appearance in his head. but instead...

he was met with the biggest, tightest, and closest hug of his life. his first thought was to hug you back, which he was about to follow, until he remembered that you were in a public space and this would technically be considered as pda.

once he realized that revelation, he immediately pulled away from the hug, scolding you about touching people in public without permission. while your hug was extremely warm and welcoming, he forced himself to keep up his own rules.

you just stood there, very still while he gave you a lecture about being physically affectionate with someone you barely know. he also proceeded to go on a mini rant about the negative effects of pda, but you werent listening to any of it.

you were mainly just focused on how he seemed very passionate about keeping the peace, which made him look weirdly cute. people often look very adorable to you whenever they were talking about something they cared alot about, which is what ishimaru was currently doing.

you interrupted his planned speech about keeping ourselves civil, to compliment him about how cute he looked. taka immediately stopped in his tracks, looking at you like you just spoke a forbidden sentence.

"...pardon?" kiyotaka asked, but it sounded more like a flustered squeak he made out of surprise. you repeated your comment about him, watching his face slowly turn more red, realizing that you were being serious about what you said, and that you weren't mocking him like others do.

after the initial shock wore off, he reacted exactly how he expected you to, which was scolding you passionately again. however, it didn't sway your mind, he still looked very adorable to you while he was practically going teacher-mode on you because you called him "cute."

what you didnt expect, however, was what he said right when he finished telling you off. "thats all! i hope you have learned your lesson!... and while i don't agree with your methods of doing so, i do appreciate the compliment." he added the last part on with a rushed shout, then immediately left, trying to hide his red face from you.

from then on out, you actively seeked taka, and tried to befriend him, which he accepted. you still don't tone down your affectionate-ness and compliments at all, but he seems to be scolding you less and less. in fact, he seems like he anticipates them now, which makes you happy. little did you both know, that this friendship would lead to so much more.

gundham is the same as taka. he was intimidated by your large stature, and general... bigness. however, gundham tanaka is no coward, he will challenge anyone who dares compete against tanaka the forbidden one!

he walked up to you, with extreme confidence, and started his usual menacing speech about how he was a more powerful entity compared to you "mortals". before he could even finish the first sentence, you interrupted with a sentence that caught his " mighty" act off guard.

"aw, you're so adorable! like those hampsters that are on your shoulder! you're almost as cute as them!" were your first words to him. before his mind would even catch up to the strange sentences you just uttered to him, you grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug.

gundham needed a solid few seconds to compose himself before he speaks at all. the devas are all squirming in his scarf, also caught by surprise from the strong hug you gave them. once he does process the situation enough to not look like a shocked puppy, he immediately starts thrashing in your large arms.

"release me from your armed trap at once, mortal!" he says in a mix of rage and panic. you quickly let him go, feeling a slight pain from how haphazardly he was moving in your grasp, and also because he didn't seem like he wanted to be hugged, if the sentence he spoke to you was anything to go by.

when he was released, the first thing he did after dusting himself off was restart his original speech of him being the supreme overlord of ice, but this time, he added that you are a very bold human for having the gal to touch someone so "highly superior" with such carelessness.

...or something along those lines. you weren't sure. your ears were only processing a muddled version of a few of the words he was saying, the rest was a blur. mainly because you weren't really paying attention to what he was going on about, you were just focusing on the cute, confident look on his face. along with the cute hamsters resting cozily in his scarf.

gundham stopped talking once he realized that you weren't looking him in the eye, or even anywhere near his face. you were staring at his neck, so he looked down to see his friends, then shot a sharp glaze at you after realizing why you weren't paying attention to his great speech.

"why are you looking at the dark devas of destruction, mortal? rather than listening to the words im gracing you with? you are not worthy to be in their presence, or mine." he continued death glaring at you, crossing his arms while waiting for your answer to his question.

"oh- im sorry... my lord? i was just admiring how cute and fuzzy the... dark devas? looked!" you gave the hamsters a small wave while speaking. you didn't know why he was speaking strangely and giving his pets such uncommon nicknames, but you didn't mind. you thought it was a little cute, actually.

of course, gundham was used to the compliments towards the devas. however, he wasn't taking the adjectives "cute" and "fuzzy" very well. they were evil! they were his partners in crime! how dare you call them such belitting names? before he could scold you again, you quickly swept the rug from under him again.

you quickly butted in, and started unconsciously showering him in compliments. calling him well-spoken, cool, dressed nicely, had cool hair, handsome, and such. you also added how his voice was very pleasant to listen to, and that his eyes were very expressive and clear.

as the flattering statements added on and on, he got more and more flustered. his slight stuttering from being caught off guard by the first two quickly because full-on sputtering with his face almost becoming as red as mahirus hair.

before you could make him even more speechless, he took the very little confidence he had left to attempt to make his usual "super big and bad evil" goodbye statement, but a very shortened and messy version escaped his lips instead, with him quickly scattering away before more of his pride was taken away by your giant cursed goodness.

while you were left confused as to why he left so suddenly, you quickly bid him adieu, continuing on with your day in hopes that you two would meet again, and maybe, just maybe, you would get along with each other.

little did you know that he was secretly plotting your demise for daring to treat him like that, muttering his evil plans to the dark devas, feeling that he needed to avenge them because of how you described them as if they weren't his wicked subordinates!

...deep down though, he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to seeing your large, smiley self again. you were one of the few people who didn't scrutinize his personality, and he greatly appreciates it. maybe, when you acknowledge how truly devious he was, then, you could be acquiantances. or something deeper than that.

lets be honest, fuyuhiko would really really dislike you when he first meets you. he has this ideology that people who are positive and kind are fooling him, trying to catch him off guard and trap him with their fake happiness. given his family and who he is, he was taught to be skeptical of almost everyone, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he was skeptical towards you.

everytime you even attempted to get near him, he either yelled at you to back or else he'd shank you, or peko would step in, quickly telling you to leave with her hands already on her sword handle in case you try to push it.

you would try for weeks to even have a slight chance of talking to him, because he is the only person out of your class that you haven't had a personal connection with. heck, you even started to have a slight bond with peko when she wasn't busy protecting fuyuhiko!

if you were being honest, you were genuinely starting to give up on having him warm up to you. you knew that no matter how hard you try, some people will still find ways to dislike you. you thought that this would be one of those unfortunate cases, and you were on the edge of accepting it.

until that one night. you were having trouble sleeping, and nothing seemed to be working. you knew that it was probably too late for anyone to be awake right now, so you decided to take an evening stroll around the school. maybe the walking would tired you out.

you walk out of your dorm, only to see kuzuryu starting absent mindedly at the stars in the late night sky. he looked so... at ease. the sound of a door opening and footsteps started him, and his attitude quickly did a 180, turning aggressive.

"what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?! are you gonna try to fool me again, huh? with your fake smiles and over-the-top hugs?" he yelled, paying no mind to the fact that it was 4am, and he could wake someone up.

you reassured him that you weren't going to hurt him, but to be honest, you were hurt at the accusation that it was fake. you wanted to speak your feelings, but you felt like that would make him more on edge, so you just ignored that hurt for now.

disregarding your word, he told you to stay far away from him, pointing at the very end of the balcony he was leaning against. you did what you were told, not wanting to agitate him further. to be honest, this is probably the nicest he's been to you so far. usually, he'd just tell you to fuck off, so you weren't about to let this rare opportunity to talk to him slip pass you.

after a few moments if silence, you decided to ramble a bit, maybe that'll warm him up to you. you talked about everything you could, random stuff you thought of, all the way to deep philosophical conversations that would make you ponder at night.

fuyuhiko didn't look like he was listening, if anything, he looked as if he was spacing out and using you as a white noise machine. however, that was better than his usual response of him threatening you, so you kept going.

eventually, he said something, cutting you off mid-rant. "you know, you don't have to keep up the act right now." "what do you mean?" "i know you're lying, just admit it to my face so you can stop using all your energy trying to convince me you're a good person."

ouch, that stung. but, this is the longest he's talked to you in private, you couldn't let this go. "well, what if i told you it wasn't a lie?" you smiled at him. "bullshit. no one is ever that positive or nice."

"well, i am. and i'll prove it to you if you'll let me!" "pffft. yeah right. do you just want me to believe that someone as big as you isn't a secret spy or assassin? don't even try."

"im not. i can prove it to you." you were so close. he was talking to you, he was actually talking to you! you would have preferred if the conversation was more positive, yes, but he was talking to you! you were getting somewhere!

"really?" he paused, you could see his eyebrows slightly furrow in thought. "fine, since these other students are making things boring as hell, i'll let you prove it to me."

...it was that easy? all you had to do was say that you were willing to prove it at a balcony when it was 4am? it was a bit anti-climactic, but hey, you weren't complaining. "great! you won't regret this!" you walked to hug him before he put his tough guy act on again.

"don't. touch. me. i said i'd let you prove it to me, not use me as a personal cuddle bear. with how different we look, i think you'd crush me." "ah, not much of a hugger? sorry, i get it. should've asked first."

he yawned. "yeah you should've. anyways, i'm hitting the sack. kill me in my sleep and ill haunt you forever." fuyuhiko spoke as he walked back to his dorm room.

"i won't!" you replied, waving him goodbye. you know it was small progress, but you're getting somewhere. you'll definitely gain his trust.

[spiteless-xo]

I loved the wholesome ask!! fluffy/wholesome boys :') Ahh please I need more fluff, specifically Jean if you have any 🥹

hello!! thank you for the wholesome ask 🥰 i love the fluffy requests just as much as the smutty ones.

sorry for the delay! also i decided to do a couple of boys because i was just filled w ideas for this one 😭

╰┈➤ fluffy headcanons - aot.

ft. armin, eren, jean. cw. gender neutral reader

⋙ armin arlert.

he loves playing board games with you!! specifically cooperative strategy games like gloomhaven, pandemic, or dead of winter. he loves looking at the board with you and trying to figure out the best course of action, but even if you lose he still has fun just spending time with you (and i feel like after the game you guys would talk about things you could do better for next time 🥺)

going to the library is like a monthly ritual for the two of you. on Sunday, the two of you go together and then wander off, collecting 1 book for yourself, 1 book for the other person, and 1 book to read together -- almost like a mini book club between the two of you

armin is a little introverted, so he likes to spend evenings and weekends curled up on the couch with you watching a show together or just reading next to one another. he's a lil annoying tho when you watch tv because he likes to constantly pause the show so he can tell you his theories or try to guess what happens next 💀

loves going for walks with you!! especially on a lazy weekend morning or after dinner when the sun is starting to set. he'll hold all your stuff (keys, phone, wallet, w/e) in the pockets of his cargo shorts 💀 and then hold your hand as the two of you walk throughout the neighbourhood, just talking about nothing and everything

⋙ eren jaeger.

eren will always force you to come with him when he's running errands 😭 even if it's a one-person job, he claims that he needs you with him for moral support. so the two of you will get in his car (and maybe he'll stop off at your fav coffee shop to get you a treat for the journey) and take you with him to the grocery store, or the hardware store, or wherever tf he wants to go

loves impromptu dates. if the two of you drive past the aquarium and you see that it's got a new special exhibit, he's immediately pulling over so the two of you can go check it out -- even if he doesn't care or if it's something he's not usually interested in, he can tell from the little lilt in your voice when you get excited about something, so he'll stop everything just for you 🥺

angry gamer guy for sure 💀 i can just see him yelling into the mic at jean about dying too much when they're playing some shooter game or something. but in between games (if you're not hanging out in the room with him) he'll call you to come over so he can get a good luck kiss from you before the next match (cue jean gagging in discord)

when the two of you are cuddling, he loves to just lie on top of you and squish you with his full weight. he calls himself "eren blanket" and just goes limp on top of you. he thinks it's so funny when you giggle and try to push him off and he doesn't let up unless you're really struggling to breath

⋙ jean kirstein.

loves planning date nights for the two of you 🥺 always a fancy dinner or a play or something in the city. he just loves seeing you get all dressed up for him and wearing matching colours with you and trying fancy wines with the love of his life

snores 💀 like, loudly -- obnoxiously, even. like you have a hard time falling asleep sometimes because he's rattling the whole damn house. but you discovered a trick! if you kiss him softly when he's snoring, he'll smile a little in his sleep and stop snoring!! he'll start up again later, but you usually have enough time to fall asleep before he does

wakes up suuuuuuper early every day -- even on weekends. he'll putter around the house, tidy up from the night before, maybe even go for a run if it's a nice day. but he always crawls back into bed with you a few minutes before your alarm goes off so the two of you can cuddle for a bit before starting your day

he gets you to tie his tie for him every single time 🥺 even though he knows how to do it himself, he just gets so happy watching you do it for him and when you tighten it up around his collar and check in like, "is that good?" he'll just smile and give you a little kiss in thanks

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Jason's First Christmas

First posted: December 17, 2018

Focuses on: Jason Todd et al

Favorite bookmark: "The many Christmases of Jason. Parts will make you sob, but the ending is worth it."

Tier: In the bottom half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I'm super fond of this one. It was my first time joining a Christmas stocking fic exchange, and I plucked this one from my friend @starknjarvis27's wishlist (and was suuuuuuper nervous about the reception in addition to the idea of the exchange as a whole.)

To quote my own intro note: Created to fill Cylobaby27's BatFam Christmas Stocking prompt "Jason’s first Christmas back at the manor." When writing this fic, I could only remember "Jason's first Christmas" and was too lazy to look up the details/made a deliberate artistic choice, so I decided to hit all the bases. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Listen, when your brain serves up like five opening lines at once, you gotta write the scenes worthy of those lines.

Speaking of, let me jump out of order a minute and make you look at them all lined up together:

(1) It was Jason’s first Christmas without Willis, and though he didn’t know it yet, it was the beginning of the end. (2) It was Jason’s first Christmas at the Manor. A new beginning. (3) It was Jason’s first Christmas back in Gotham, and he still wasn’t sure if he was living in a recycled beginning or an overextended ending. (4) It was Jason’s first Christmas sober. That was what it felt like anyways. He could still feel the Pit just beneath his skin, like an itch on his arch of his foot with his shoe still on. The pull was still there. The urge to lash out. To run wild. To destroy. The temptation remained. But he was resisting. Maybe, finally, this was his fresh start. Maybe this was his new beginning. (and then the very last line of part 5 and the fic as a whole) It was Jason’s first Christmas back at the Manor, and it was only the end of a new beginning.

I'm poetic as heck.

They’d lost the apartment. Lost the janky little fourth-hand dresser that had held all Jason’s clothes. Lost the fridge that rattled like an airliner coming in for a landing. Lost the couch with its busted springs and his name sharpied under the left seat cushion. Lost anything that couldn’t be stuffed into a trash bag or slung over their shoulders.

It is both a trial and a joy to figure out how to stage a space. To not only puzzle through the logistics of what they might plausibly have had and lost but also what you, the reader, might need to know about and what Jason would have thought about and mourned—things that were his, things that represented his basic needs and his former security that those needs would be met.

Jason wrapped the scarf, his present to her, around her neck as gently as he could manage. The plaid fabric was itchy, but it was warm, and that’s all he had cared about as he smuggled it out of the thrift store under his shirt.

This is a gift that made sense in logistics and characterization and need but also I think I stole it from the American Girl Addy Christmas book. Doesn't she give her hardworking mom a scarf?

Jason still jumped every time the butler said his name. The old man was too quiet, and his mustache was judgey. Jason pivoted on the ball of his foot, turning slowly until he was facing Alfred.

New kids being suspicious of Alfred's mustache is a running theme.

Bruce was sick? Bad sick? Vomiting could mean all kinds of stuff, and a high fever could be real bad, right? Like, hospital bad. Like, brain damage bad. Jason’s palms suddenly felt slick, and he wiped them on his pants as he said, “I didn’t know he was sick. Is he okay? Did a doctor take a look at him?” What if something happened to Bruce? What would happen to Jason? Did that make him an awful person, worrying about himself when Bruce was in danger? Oh god, he was an awful person, grouching over a late Christmas when Bruce was upstairs barfing his brains out.

Turns out! Having no safety net! Or reliable access to standard care! And watching your mom die slowly! Messes with a kid's anxieties when it comes to preventable illness!

Jason felt another flicker of panic at the base of his throat. Bruce looked awful. He was still a huge dude, but he looked small in that big bed with his hair all flat and sweaty and dark circles under his eyes. He looked nothing like Jason’s mom. And yet.

I really should do more with the various kids' uncertainties and insecurities their first few months/years in the Manor. I've leaned on Tim's a lot, but I should play with the rest more.

“Is this a chick flick?” Jason asked dubiously. The movie did not look promising. Sure, the guy had a sword, but the biggest image was of a lady in a tiara. And it was about a princess getting married. Bruce choked back a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “You were so close to asking the right question there, Jay. Trust me on this one, okay? It’s the best sick-day movie.”

There was no other option. None.

Next to him, Bruce chuckled quietly, his chest rumbling deep and low like a cat’s purr.

You will pry this characterization out of my stiff dead fingers. Bruce's kids feeling the low vibrations in his chest like a tiger's purr is everything to me.

He was cold. That was nothing new. He was always cold now. But Gotham itself was cold, which only pushed the aching chill deeper into his bones.

Jason being cold as a corpse is also a thing I'm a fan of.

Jason flicked his lighter once, twice. The flame caught, held, and he lifted it to the cigarette dangling between his lips. The smoke curled down his throat. He held it there, relishing the ache. He’d thought of stopping. Had tried a couple times as a kid, once he’d gotten himself off the streets. Ironically, given her own hangups, he’d always felt a little guilty, wondering what his mom would think of his vice.

I go back and forth on Jason and smoking, whether he would actively and militantly avoid anything addictive or if he would allow himself the one vice as a comfort because it's not one shared by either Catherine or Willis.

Jason scooped up his helmet and put it back on. The fumes were making him feel lightheaded. He surveyed the room once more, grimly satisfied with his work. The red arterial spray on the wall added a festive touch, he thought. He flicked the lighter again. Bent. Touched the flame to the glistening streak on the floor. The fire raced down the trail of gasoline, crackling merrily as it crawled over the bodies and up the wall. Jason closed his eyes as the heat beat against his face. The cold coiled tighter in his chest.

There was a fic I read early, early, early on, when I was brand new to fic and hoovering up everything I could find, long before I thought about writing anything for myself. It was an AU where Jason returned as an arsonist and graffitist. I don't remember anything about it other than that, including who wrote it, but whoever you are, it clearly stuck with me, so thanks!

It was Jason’s first Christmas sober. That was what it felt like anyways. He could still feel the Pit just beneath his skin, like an itch on his arch of his foot with his shoe still on.

As others have noted, I'm also a fan of depicting the Pit through the hybrid lens of addiction and mental illness. That hasn't changed. Good job baby writer me for that itch metaphor though, I don't remember that one.

He popped a fry into his mouth, then stiffened as someone slid into the booth across from him. His mind scrambled for her name, her real name. It was something perky and ponytailed like Kimberly or Tiffany. They’d only met once or twice out of masks, and it took him a moment to place her.

In my semi-cohesive universe of fics, I have no idea when Jason learned who Stephanie was out of uniform. I do mentally clump those 80/90s prep names together, too.

He hadn’t expected his Pit sobriety to be tested in a rundown 50s-style diner on the border of respectable Gotham. Not over an order for a Snickers milkshake, of all things.

A real diner would not have a Snickers milkshake, bad job me.

“To want in so bad for so long that the wanting goes rotten in your mouth.” A smile, thin and bittersweet, flickered at the corners of her mouth. “Keep spitting it out. You’ll get clean eventually.” Jason stared, considering. Wondering. Where did Bruce find kids like them? Kids with bruises on their knuckles and poetry in their chests. Kids so hungry to belong that their teeth turned inward. How do you even go about finding kids like that?

Those bits maybe didn't fit with the voice of either of them, but I couldn't let the lines go. Call them an indulgence. It's Christmas, I'm allowed.

“You’re on some painkillers. And you lost a lot of blood,” Bruce warned. Typical that his first words would be a scold.

Perspective is so fun. Jason: :( stop scolding me. Bruce: I am stating FACTS, it's on you how you interpret the factual context being provided.

“You did,” Bruce confirmed. “You were stabbed. Twice. And then decided to hole up in a safe house and pass out without telling anyone.” Oh. Ohhhhh. Jason did remember something like that. He didn’t remembering deciding to pass out, but the rest…

That was a scold. Bruce's kids make him a little pissy sometimes, poor man.

“You missed brunch with Alfred. He was concerned.” Jason dropped his hand to blink slowly at Bruce. “But that’s tomorrow.” “That was three days ago,” Bruce corrected. “You were out for over a day, just based on your wound. We brought you back here two days ago to rest and heal.”

Ugh, time math, the worst.

Bruce rolled his eyes, a weirdly comforting gesture. If Bruce was able to roll his eyes, it must not be too bad. Jason owed Alfred a make-up brunch and an apology, though.

I have since migrated to the belief that Bruce doesn't roll his eyes, he blinks verrrry slowly and deliberately. (Though I also like @frownyalfred's depiction of him absolutely rolling his eyes but doing it with his eyes closed to hide it.)

Jason hummed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just them, though, right?” he teased. Bruce rolled his eyes again and knocked a knuckle against Jason’s cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”

hello physical touch is my favorite love language, especially for people who suck at words

They had flung themselves across Bruce’s king-sized bed, careful not to jostle Jason but also, he noticed, careful to casually stay within reach. Jason expected this from Dick and Cass, both touch-affectionate under normal circumstances, but even Damian and Tim had seemed to orbit closer than normal. In the spaces not occupied by bodies were trays of snack foods, including easily digestible soup for Jason. To Jason’s undisguised delight, Alfred had brought up the nibbles and then uncharacteristically had settled in one of the chairs by the bedside after giving Jason’s hand a pat.

Like I said.

“If I fall asleep before Miracle Max, wake me up?” “As you wish.”

And what he meant was, I love you.

[donteattheappleshook]

Dare I say forever...

Part 3 of Lover of the Light (AKA Wish Baby)

Summary: 

He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle. No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. But she’s not with him. 

The reunion of WishEmma and SilverWishHook after the events of Lover of the Light and Ghosts that we Knew. Also affectionately (and agressively) nicknamed Wish Baby

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr: 1 2

HAPPY SUPER BELATED BIRTHDAY @the-darkdragonfly 🎁🎉🎂🎈​ 

This fic is suuuuuuper late but that’s because (as you know) it turned into a 34k word monster that had to be turned into two parts/chapters. You’re the loveliest person ever and I hope you like this conclusion you’ve been demanding for two years! 😘

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you @elizabeethan for betaing this fic that is way longer than it was supposed to be when you agreed to read it! 🙏🙏

And thank you @kmomof4 for being a second set of eyes when I decided to write this story out of order! 💕

********

Part Three

“You’re too bloody old for this,” Killian grunts, shoving at a handful of bloody roses - because of course it had to be roses - and their bloody thorns, reaching for another gap in the criss-crossing wood that creaks under his weight. He’s too old to be climbing trellises in the middle of night to sneak into a lass’s bedroom - especially a bedroom in a bloody castle. 

He heaves himself up another step, hook getting caught in the tangles and he struggles to free it without falling on his arse. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His back. His breathing is so loud that he worries they’ll hear him across the garden where two guards are supposed to be stopping people like him from breaking in and whisking away princesses. He should tell Emma to fire them.

A thorn catches his palm and he curses, sweat beading on his temples as he covets the strength he had as a younger man, the energy. He needs it now. He needs to find her. One moment he’d been holding her hand in that tavern, the light blinding as he tried to keep his eyes on her face for as long as possible, and the next, she was gone. The Emma who’d come here had disappeared, but this Emma, his Emma, he still doesn’t know where she is. 

He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle. 

No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. And then a new panic had set in. Home. If she’d been sent home, back to the castle where the other Emma had just used magic in front of her mother…

And so here he is, climbing the trellis beneath her window like a suitor in a storybook, only older, and wearier, and sweatier. But he embraces the exhaustion, the burn of his limbs, because it keeps the worst of his fears at bay. What if she’s just gone? What if she was never sent to another land? What if he can’t bring her back. What if she’s lost to him forever?

He doesn’t want to think of what that would mean, of what it might do to him to have her ripped away like this. He fears who he might become without her, who he was when he met her, the emptiness that had consumed him, that she had filled. She’d changed him. 

He reaches the window, grunting embarrassingly - though there’s no one around to hear it - as heaves himself over the edge of her balcony. It’s dark, the blinds are closed and he can’t hear anything inside. He calls her name, tries the door when she doesn’t answer. It’s locked. Why the hell is her bloody balcony door locked, he groans. Probably to keep people from climbing up the trellis into her room.

Slipping his hook into the keyhole he curses when it takes him longer than he’d like to pick the lock. He’s out of practice at breaking and entering. When it finally unlatches the door creaks open under his hand and he winces, everything feeling too loud.

“Swan? Emma, love, are you there?” He tries to ignore the stirring dread when he receives no answer, searching in the dark. He’s never been here before, their meetings always in the tavern or on his ship. The room smells like her, her scent clinging to the walls, haunting the space as it does his cabin every time she has to leave. He calls her name again, checking the bed, searching the sitting room attached. Her chambers are bigger than his whole bloody ship. 

She has to be somewhere. He’ll search the whole bloody castle if he has to. Unfortunately his fear makes him impulsive; his desperation makes short-sighted; and his lack of practice makes an idiot. Because when he opens the door to the hall, prepared to go storming off looking for her, he forgets to listen, forgets to be silent, or armed, and he comes face to face with two guards - or face to back. 

Bollocks. He tries to back away slowly, but it’s too late, the guards turning, their swords drawn as swiftly as his own. So much for sneaking about the palace unnoticed - he’ll have to find her quickly. He disarms the first two easily - not killing them, he knows Emma is close to some of the guards and he doesn’t think she’d appreciate him doing away with her household staff - but one of them shouts and more come running. Five, who he manages to take down, then ten, harder this time, a few still standing when more come, and soon it seems the whole bloody army is in her bedroom. 

“Get your bloody hands off of me,” he spits as four hold him down, force him to his knees, disarmed, bloody and bruised. A new guard walks in, older than the rest, a commander more than a fighter now he imagines. 

“We found him breaking in, Lord Humbert. It looks like he came up through the balcony.” 

“Tell whoever’s stationed outside to report to my quarters,” the man says in an accent close to Killian’s own. “The bloody idiots can explain how they let someone get into the princess's room.” Killian likes this one, the name familiar. He just can’t place it.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing here?” Humbert asks. 

“I would,” Killian snarks. “But I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. I have people expecting me. You know how it is.”

The guard actually looks half amused, glancing at his clothes and at his hook. “Aye, well, I don’t think you’ll be seeing anyone anytime soon. The punishment for attempted kidnapping is death, Captain.” 

Killian gives him his most charming, sarcastic smile. “Well it’s always nice to be recognized.” 

“Your title won’t do you much good when you’re facing the gallows, I’m afraid. Take him away.” 

“Wait!” he says through gritted teeth before the guard can turn away. “I wasn’t trying to kidnap her, I was trying to bloody warn her.” 

He stops, frowns. “About what?” Killian sets his jaw. He can’t tell this man anything without revealing Emma’s magic, possibly putting her in even more danger. Humbert waves his hand and he’s being dragged to his feet as the man walks away, a wolf on the back of his armor. “You’re Graham - the one who saved her mother.” 

Graham stops, turns back, raising a hand again and the soldiers holding him relax their grip only slightly. “How do you know that?”

“Emma told me. She also told me that you taught her to track when she was little. Her governess got angry because she would come back covered in mud and leaves.” 

“Emma told you?” Graham asks, frowning deeply, stepping closer. 

“Aye, she cares for you - said you were like a second father to her. Which is why I’m sorry about this.” The man hardly has a moment to register his words before Killian pulls a sword from one of the guards’ belts, hitting Humbert in the face with the hilt and knocking him out cold. The other guards are caught off guard, Killian making quick work of them. “Sorry,” he says to them before taking off down the hall - Emma’s made him soft-hearted. “True love and all.”

***

Emma nearly falls into the water. One moment she’d been sitting with Killian in the room that belonged to another version of her, and the next she was stumbling across the deck of a ship. She blinks, looking around at where she is, recognizing the Jolly, the open sea around her. She touches the fabric of her clothes, the riding pants and vest. Hers. She’s back. They must have done it - her Killian and his Emma. Running below deck, she throws open the door to his cabin. 

“Killian?” she calls. But there’s no answer. The ship is silent, empty, eerily so. She searches the bosun’s room he’d spent so many nights in, the galley, the hold, the deck. He’s not here. Why isn’t he here? She makes her way to the railing, looking out at the docks. This isn’t the port near Misthaven. “Where are you?” 

She lets her magic flow through her, humming under her skin, extending beyond her but not far, holding tight to it. Killian, where are you? Emma lets it pull her to the edge of the ship, looking out into the dark water below, her reflection visible in the bright moonlight, the waves rippling through it before the image shifts and she nearly gasps. 

Mirror magic. She hadn’t meant to use it but she can see him coming through beneath her reflection, as though it were floating to the surface. The tavern. Misthaven. She doesn’t know what his ship is doing here, why he’s not on it, but she’s going to find him. Emma raises the main sail and makes her way back to the helm, looking up at the stars, the constellations he taught her. She points the ship east, back to him. She’ll find him. She’ll find him and she’ll tell him everything.

He hadn’t been at the tavern when she arrived a little over an hour later. The barkeep had seemed confused when she’d asked if he’d seen Killian. “He was ‘ere earlier - with you. Ran outta ‘ere like a bat outta hell. Assumed you wen’ with ‘im.”

“Do you know where he went?” 

The man shook his head. “Maybe ‘e’s lookin’ for you too.”

“Damn.” If he did, then he’s at the palace, and she needs to find him before anyone else does. She takes the barman’s horse back to the castle, hopping off and sneaking around back to the servants quarters to avoid being seen. She needs to sneak in, find Killian, and sneak him out before anyone even knows she’s there. 

The door to the kitchen is unlatched, the cook notorious for leaving it ajar, livestock often making their way into the pantry searching for snacks. She’s relieved to find it empty, creeping through the room to the staircase that leads to the great hall. If she has to search floor by floor, she will. 

She decides it’s her best bet, starting up the winding staircase. She can hear the sounds of guards above her, worried they’ve already found him, and she picks up her pace, taking the steps two at a time. She barely hears the footsteps, barely hears the sharp sound of metal being unsheathed before she nearly crashes into him.

Someone catches her just in time to avoid her plummet back down a hundred or more steps, and when she looks up to see her savior, she can’t believe it. “Emma?” 

“Killian!” she throws herself in his arms, holding him tightly and he freezes. But then she’s pressing her lips to his and his arms wrap around her, drawing her closer, letting her push him back against the wall as she kisses him like she thought she’d never see him again. He’s here. He’s safe. 

“Is it really you?” he asks, pulling away enough to brush his thumb over her cheek. Emma nods furiously, beaming and crying all at once. “Yeah, it’s really me.” 

“Where did you go? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. It’s a long story, but, Killian, we have to go. If they find you here -”

He nods, solemnly. “I know. Come on.” 

She takes his hand, and he just looks at her, that air of disbelief still in his eyes. Then he looks at her hand and she knows he’s thinking the same as her. She thought she’d lost him, and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her back to him, kissing her one more time, just because it won’t be the last. 

A clamour comes from upstairs, footprints and armor and blades and Killian breaks away, drawing his own sword. “This way!” she hisses, leading him down, but she freezes, footsteps coming from below as well and she turns wide, frantic eyes on him. 

“It’ll be alright, love.” She doesn’t know if she believes him this time… 

“Unhand her!” a voice shouts from above them.

They both whirl around, each with a protective arm thrown out across other, leaving them standing side by side. “Stand down,” Emma orders and Killian takes another step forwards, sword in hand as the guard looks at her, hesitant, uncertain and she orders him to stand down again. Why aren’t they listening? 

“Swan,” he whispers, hook pressing into her hip, trying to hide her behind him. “They know about your magic.” 

She only lets the panic take over for a moment, simmering low in her stomach, heart hammering, before she channels it. Light begins to simmer in her palms. “Then they have all the more reason to listen.” 

“Emma!” Her magic vanishes, the familiar voice sending a pang through her. They both turn, but it takes her a moment to raise her eyes to his, to see how he’ll look at her now, if there will be fear there, or worse, hatred. Killian raises his sword at the guards there, led by an older man with a scar on his chin. 

“Dad.”

“Emma, we were so worried,” he says. Killian’s sword lowers slightly as her father steps forward and his eyes settle on the pirate holding her back, on his weapon. “Step away from my daughter.” He’d kill him. She knows he would. She can see it in his eyes, magic or no, he’s her father and he would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.

“Dad-” Killian drops his sword but doesn’t leave her side. 

“Seize him!” 

“Dad, wait!” He doesn’t listen, guards grabbing Killian, dragging him off of her, and she reaches for him as her father pulls her to his side. “Dad, wait, no!” She’s crying now, shouting at him as she grabs for Killian’s hook. 

He gives her a small smile that she knows he doesn’t feel, knows is just for her. “It’s alright, love.” He brings her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before he’s dragged off. “I’ll find you,” he calls. “I promise. I’ll always find you.” 

Emma turns to her father, grabbing at his tunic. He’s staring after Killian, an expression she can’t read on his face, but not the abject hatred and murderous intent that had been there a moment ago. 

“Dad, please, don’t hurt him.” He finally looks at her, brow pinched in confusion, and she says the words she’d been so afraid to confess to anyone but Killian. “I love him. Please. Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.” His eyes go wide, mouth falling open and she lets her head fall against his chest, somewhere that had always felt so safe. His hand comes to the back of her head, a reflex born of years of soothing her tears and her words are muffled against his shirt through her tears. “I can’t lose him. I love him. Please.” 

***

The cell door beside his opens, another prisoner tossed in with a grunt and a few choice curses at the guards. The women in this kingdom certainly do have a way with words. “And here I thought I had the place to myself,” he says because even now, for all his years and all the time he’s had to learn better, he still hasn’t. 

“You won’t have any place for much longer,” the guard says to him. Ah yes, those pesky gallows they keep mentioning. 

“Ou, ominous,” the prisoner next to him says, laughing as the guard walks away. She’s a woman, he can’t see her, a thick stone wall separating their cells, but her voice is light despite its bite and her hands hang out the bars she leans against, distinctly feminine. “What did you do to piss them off?”

“Trespassing.” It’s not completely untrue. He did trespass in the castle. And he’d trespassed where he had no right being the moment he thought he could be a part of Emma’s world.

“Hanging for trespassing?” she demands. “Man, this kingdom is rough.”

“It was a bit more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“Look, I’m not really in a chatty mood, what with my imminent death and all.” 

“Ah, I get it. First time?” 

He scoffs. “Not hardly.”

“Always nice to meet a kindred spirit.” Killian can hear her smile and he finds one tugging at the corner of his lip. He likes this woman. She reminds him of Emma in a way, the snark and the dark humour. “So, you’re not in a talking mood,” the prisoner says when he doesn’t answer. “Are you in an eating mood?” She sticks her hand out, offering a roll of bread. “It’s not much of a last meal but I was able to snag it off the guard's plate when he was tossing me on my ass.” 

Killian takes it, not having eaten since this morning, hand slipping out of the bars to reach for it. “Thank you.”

She gasps when his hook flashes against the iron, but not in fear. “You’re the pirate who tried to kidnap the princess.” She sounds almost impressed.

“I wasn’t trying to kidnap her.”

The prisoner laughs. “Sure, and I wasn’t trying to rob that carriage.”

“I wasn’t -” he sighs. It’s pointless. There’s no reason to argue. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. You weren’t trying to kidnap her. So what were you doing?”

“I was trying to find her.”

“... to kidnap her?”

“To warn her.” 

“... That you were going to kidnap her?”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am, thank you.” He doesn’t answer. “So are you going to tell me what you were trying to warn her about?” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because there’s nobody else to talk to and I might be the last person you talk to. You know, deathbed confessions and all that.” 

He scoffs. “I’ve been in more dire straits than this and found a way out.” He begins doing just that, searching for a weakness in his cell, anything that could help him get free - or anything he could use to overpower the guard.

“And go where? This palace is a fortress.” 

“To her,” he says to himself, but she hears them. 

“Who? The princess?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh, do you want to tell me about it?” 

“About what?”

“Come on now. You don’t seem like a stupid person, but you’re stupid enough to break into a castle to try and talk to her. And to break out of the dungeon and go right back to the same castle to find her. I mean, it’s not difficult to figure out. Life-in-danger stupid is the kind of stupid that’s only brought on by one thing.”

“Love,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah. So, do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs. “What would be the point? I’m going to lose her no matter what now.” Either her parents will kill him, or they’ll find a way to keep her away from him forever.

“Because… Say you do die tomorrow; say this is your last night. If you can’t be with her, don’t you at least want someone to know your story? Don’t you want someone to be able to tell her that you spent your last hours thinking about her? I would.”  A pang pulls at his chest. He hasn’t feared death in a long time, he’d not had anything to lose, to leave behind. “But hey,” she says, “maybe I’m just a romantic.” 

“I… I promised her it would be alright. I knew it was a risk from the beginning.” 

“So why did you do it?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’d understand if you met her. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew that I had no chance, the moment I met her…”

***

Her father takes her down to the kitchen, dismissing the rest of his guards as he leads her to the table. He sets to making a cup of hot chocolate - ‘The best remedy for when my girls are upset,’ he used to say - and puts it down in front of her. She’s still crying and he’s looking at her like he doesn’t know what to do. It’s the first time in her life he hasn’t had an answer. 

“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on?

“Are you going to execute him?” The thought is so horrible, the question so harsh that her fingers shake around the mug. 

“I… no. No, we won’t do anything until we know what’s going on. But you have to tell me.” Emma takes a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “You… You said you love him.” She can tell the sentence is hard for him, both to say out loud and to wrap his head around. She nods. 

“Isn’t he a little old for you?” 

“Dad.”

It’s his turn to take a deep breath. “But… When…How long has this been going on?”

“A year.”

“A year?” Emma nods and he runs a hand over his face, processing - poorly. Her father clears his throat, stands and digs out a bottle of liquor. “We might need something stronger than cocoa for this conversation.” He pours two generous servings and drinks deeply from his. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.” 

She takes the second and nods. “He saved my life.” 

***

Killian told her the story of how they met; how she’d fought a pirate twice her size and twice her age, how brave and strong she’d been as she held her own until the very end. He told her how he saved her and brought her back to his ship, how she’d stayed the night and then never left. He told her of the months they spent on the Jolly Roger, how scared she’d been of her own magic, how beautiful, and awe-inspiring it had been to watch her come into her power. 

He told her how she’d been the one to kiss him first, and he told her of the fear and doubt that had held him back. He told her how Emma fought him, every terrible excuse he could think of, and then asked him to let her try and love him. And he told her how she had. He told her how he fell in love with her, how every moment he spent with her made him love her more. 

He told her how they knew she eventually had to go home, and how it destroyed both of them to leave the world they’d created behind. He told her how they would meet every fortnight in a tavern near the kingdom, and how they sailed away whenever they could. 

He told her about their last meeting, their last night where she’d asked him to run away with her, to take her somewhere she’d never be found, to love her and be with her and forget the rest of the world. He told her how they both knew that was something they could never have.

“The next time I saw her, she wasn’t her. She was another Emma, one from a world where she and another version of me had somehow defied the odds. They’re happy, together, in love.”

“Another her?” 

“It’s a long story,” he sighs. “There were wishes and stars involved.” 

“Would you run away with her? If she asked you again?”

He thinks for a long moment. He hadn’t wanted to make her leave her family, her home, her birthright. But ever since he thought he lost her, now that he fears he’s lost her again… “Aye. If it was truly what she wanted, I’d sail away with her in a heartbeat.”

“What if she asked you to stay?”

“I don’t see how that would ever happen.” Where he is now attests to that. 

“But if she did ask, would you?”

He feels a slight tug at his heart. It’s something that’s bothered him since that first time Emma asked him to run away with her, the first time he’d kissed her on the deck of his ship - she’s never asked him to stay. Perhaps it makes sense, she fits better into his world than he does into hers. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give up everything for her - the Jolly, his crew, his life at sea…

“I’d be with her anywhere she wished rather than spend another day not by her side.” 

The woman behind the wall is quiet, and he lets the moment hang in the space around him. It’s strange, to have confessed so much to a stranger, to feel such a weight lifted from his chest for it. But he feels relieved, as she’d suggested, that someone besides the two of them will know their story, that his love for her was real, and true, and that he loved her until his last moment. 

“It’s morning, you know,” she says softly and he looks up, no light in the dungeons apart from the burning candles. But his body can feel the change in time, trained the way it has been for centuries to wake on his ship, to keep track of days and years in Neverland, and he realizes he spoke all night. “And listen.” He does, but there are no sounds apart from the dripping of water somewhere in the damp caves. “No drums.” She’s right. There are no drums announcing his execution, no guards come to take him to the gallows. “It looks like you might get that second chance after all.” 

He hears the clattering chime of keys, a lock being turned and then the door beside him swings open. The prisoner steps out, coming to stand before his cell. She’s older than he expected, long silver hair with only a few remnants of black, ivory skin still lovely despite the passing of time, and eyes the colour of sea glass. 

The woman rests a hand on one of the bars, looking at him with an intensity that holds him in place, keeping him from reaching for the keys she holds so near. “If everything you said is true, Killian-” Those eyes bore into him, a kindness behind the strength… Emma’s eyes. “Then I’m glad my daughter found you.”

***

David and Snow sit in their chambers, at the small table in the sitting room they’ve always used for these kinds of conversations, the difficult ones that called for debate and decisions. The Arguing Table, the king had once dubbed it. But now neither speaks, both lost deep in thought at the revelations that have been brought this morning. Their daughter has magic, something she’d been so afraid of them learning that she ran away, terrified of what they’d do to her. 

They failed her. Their own fear and trauma passed on to the person they love most in the world. ‘Emma is the product of true love,’ Blue had told Snow when she’d gone running to her after Emma - or, not Emma - had used magic and then disappeared two days ago. ‘That’s the most powerful magic of all, and it creates a light strong enough to vanquish any darkness.’ 

They’d been scared, of course they had, the sudden power unexpected and bringing back so many horrible memories. But the fact that she believed they would turn against her, fear her and not the unpredictability of magic, it breaks both their hearts. They swore that if they found her - ‘When we find her,’ Snow had insisted - they would make it right. 

And she’s in love. Their beautiful, wonderful, perfect daughter is in love - and she kept it from them. Snow had feared Emma would never open herself up to love again, not after that horrible man had come and toyed with her heart when she was so young and left her without a reason, so heartbroken that David had nearly hunted him down and killed him himself. Snow had nearly let him.

Their stories match up; after hearing what Emma told David, Snow believes that everything Killian told her in the dungeon was true, right down to her wanting to run away with him. She loves him so much that she would give up her home, her kingdom, them for him. And it stings, of course it does. But she’s their daughter, Snow knew she wouldn’t need them as much one day, that she’d find her own happy ending apart from theirs. Her husband is still not as convinced, staring at the fire with his hand at his chin, oscillating between disbelief and indignation. 

“I still want to kill him.”

“David!”

“I’m not saying that I will. I just don’t like the idea of some pirate twice her age coming here and seducing our daughter away.” 

“He’s not twice her age,” Snow says, as patiently as she can despite her exasperated sigh. “And she’s a grown woman, how old they are doesn’t matter. Besides, I think from what they told us, it was the other way around as far as who seduced wh-”

“Ah!” he grimaces, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to hear that.”

“Tough.” He looks up at her with those sad, hurt, puppy dog eyes he uses so well without ever meaning to. “He didn’t steal her away, Charming. He’s the reason she came home to us at all.”

Her husband, Prince Charming, knight and King of Misthaven, pouts, and slouches back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “So what, I’m just supposed to accept a pirate as a son-in-law?”

“If they decide that’s what they want to do, then yes. But this isn’t our parents’ generation, they don’t have to get married.”

“Oh, he’ll marry her,” David says and this time it’s a threat.

“Whatever they decide, I think we have to accept that he’s the one she’s chosen. And if we want to keep our daughter in our life, then he’s part of the deal.”

“But he’s a thief!”

“So was I.” 

“He’s not of royal blood!”

“Neither are you.” He looks almost offended and Snow reaches for his hand across the table. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke about her, Charming… I think it might be true love.” 

He sighs, shoulders sagging, turning his hand to hold hers. “I know.” 

“You know what that would do to her if we tried to separate them - what she would do. We’ll lose her, David. I don’t want to lose my daughter.” He nods, squeezing her fingers affectionately and she knows he’s on her side. He always is - it just takes him a while to realize it sometimes.

“I suppose I could knight him,” David says, lost in thought again, clearly still not over the idea of having a pirate for a son-in-law. 

Snow lifts their entwined hands, pressing a kiss to his thumb. “Whatever makes you feel better, darling.”

***

Emma hasn’t slept, up all night looking for Killian, then finding him, then losing him again and then sitting up with her father, telling him the story of how she met and fell in love with a man he doesn’t approve of. She knows he doesn’t approve. But he would probably never approve of anyone she chose to be with, overprotective since the moment the Evil Queen had threatened her, before Emma was even born. She fears what he would do to Killian if he knew about the baby. 

Her hand settles over her stomach. He’d promised he wouldn’t harm him, at least not until they decided what to do about the situation, and he made her promise not to go looking for Killian. It was a promise she’d almost broken seven times in the few hours she’d paced her room before sunrise. What does he mean ‘when they decide what to do about the situation’? Would they send him away? Keep him locked in the dungeon for the rest of his life? 

The relief she feels over her parents not fearing her magic pales in comparison to the anxiety that consumes her at the thought of being separated from Killian. She knows if they send him away, she’ll find him, and if they keep him in the dungeon, she’d get him out, or he’d get himself out and take her away. And her father knows it too. Which means the only true way to keep him from her would be - no. He promised. 

It’s just after dawn when she’s summoned to the throne room, her footsteps echoing across the empty hall, no one but the King and Queen sat in their thrones, waiting for her. Her mother stands, crossing the room to take Emma’s face in her hands, kissing her cheek and then hugging her tight. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry you were so afraid to tell us.” Her voice is choked with tears she always lets herself shed, mighty queen or not. Snow releases her, looking at her again, eyes watery as she strokes her cheeks. “We love you, Emma. You’re our daughter. And we want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.” Her eyes dart up to her mothers, hope blooming in her chest where her heart beats rapidly. “I know you told your father, but I want to hear it from you. Is he really what you want?”

“Yes,” she says without any hesitation. “More than anything, Mom… I love him,” she pleads and the queen’s tears begin to fall as a smile spreads across her face. She looks back at her husband, nodding. 

“Bring him in.” Emma’s heart jumps into her throat at David’s words, turning to the large doors that are being pushed open by two guards. Another two file in, followed by yet another two who lead their prisoner inside, each holding one of his chained arms.

“Killian!” His head snaps to her, looking stunned to find her there, the wind knocked out of him as she sprints across the hall to throw herself at him. He can’t hold her, not with his hands cuffed in front of him, but he tucks his chin into the crook of her neck, speaking into her hair. 

“Are you alright?” 

She nods, not ready to let him go. “Are you?” He nods as well, but grunts when she squeezes him tighter. ‘Six guards seems a little excessive,’ she hears her father’s voice behind her, but she’s too busy pulling back to look at him, the cuts and bruises she’d not seen in the dark last night. ‘It was… necessary, Sire.’

Killian smirks. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve lived through worse. I just don’t bounce back as quickly anymore as I did when I used to sneak into young lass’ bedrooms.” Emma shakes her head at him and lifts a hand to his brow, tracing the curve of his temple and cheek and lets her magic seek out his pain, settling on his chest where she lets it flow out of her and into him, healing them all. He breathes a little sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She can feel the way the guards tense at her display of power, inching back slightly. 

“Release him,” Snow orders. “And leave us.” The guards do as they’re told, freeing his wrists and leaving the throne room, shutting the door behind them. Killian’s arms come around her immediately, holding her close until her father speaks again.

“Come forward, pirate,” he orders and Killian looks up over her shoulder at the king, then at her. 

“It’s okay,” she promises, because for the first time since she returned from that other reality, she has hope it will be. Emma slips her fingers between his, walking by his side to the thrones, her father doing his best to loom over him, to intimidate him, despite the way his hand is grasped around his wife’s. 

“My daughter says she’s in love with you.” Killian turns to smile at her, barely a movement but she catches it before he’s looking seriously at the king again. 

“Aye. And I love her.” 

“And I’m sure you realize why this might pose a problem for us, both as rulers and as her parents.” 

He smirks. “Ah, yes, the pirate thing.” Emma nudges him with her elbow and he squeezes her hand. So not the time for snark. Her mother seems amused though, pressing her lips together in a telling way. 

“Yes, that. Obviously we can’t have a pirate courting the heir to the throne. And as she’s so determined to be with you, and we don’t wish to lose our daughter to a life at sea, it comes down to one question. Are you willing to remain in Misthaven and give up your life for her?” 

Killian speaks at the same time as she does, refusing to let them force this choice on him. “Wait -” 

“- Aye.” 

No, no this isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want him to have to give up the life he loves for her, the only one he’s ever known, his home, the sea… His thumb brushes over the back of her hand when David presses him. 

“You’d give up your title? Your reputation? Your ship?” 

She knows her dad’s just testing him now and she opens her mouth to call him out on it - there’s no reason he can’t have a ship even if he lives here. But Killian turns to her, eyes so full of emotion it stops the words dead. “I already have.” 

Her heart is pounding in her chest, in her throat as she stares at him in disbelief. What does he mean he already has? She doesn’t get a chance to ask, David slapping a hand down on the arm of his throne. 

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be a knight.” 

“Well, nothing’s been made official, yet. We can figure out what works best -” Snow starts but he continues.

“And you’ll get married.”

“Only if you want to. And only when you want to.” 

“We’ll have to do something to make sure the story is told to the kingdom the way we want it to. Rumours could -”

“David.” He goes silent finally. “We have plenty of time for all of that. For now, let’s just give them a moment, alright?” 

“I still think he’s too old for her.”

Killian is still looking at her, nothing but love and hope in his eyes and she doesn’t know what to say, what to ask. What does he mean he gave it up? She thinks of the Jolly, empty and abandoned in that port not far away. Killian is never far from his ship, never leaves her unguarded. He brings their entwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of hers and she hardly notices her parents leaving the room, the hall empty now, just the two of them and her voice echoes despite how softly she speaks. 

“Killian… Did you give up your ship for me?” 

He doesn’t break her gaze. “Aye.” 

Her heart is racing again. “When? How? Why?” None of the questions seem big enough to capture the scope of what he’s telling her, what she can’t wrap her mind around.

“When you were ripped away from me and sent to that other bloody realm. It’s how we got you back. I traded the Jolly for a wishing star.” 

Emma frowns. “Traded? To who?” 

She can see the apprehension that creeps over him, but he doesn’t falter. “Blackbeard.” 

“What? Why would you do something like that? She’s your home.” 

“Don’t you know, Emma?” She only stares, waiting, aching with guilt at what he gave up for her, what else he’s going to give up. “My home isn’t the Jolly Roger. It’s you. She’s nothing but planks of wood and a sail. That ship was my home because the only life I wanted to live was aboard her. Now that life is here, by your side - if you’ll have me.”

She’s crying now, tears slipping silently down her cheek. “I didn’t think that you’d want to stay, not when it meant giving up a life of adventure for court politics and dances.” It was why she hadn’t told him about the baby either. She didn’t want to tie him to her, to land out of obligation.

He smiles softly at her and she can see the tinge of hurt in it. “You never asked.” 

“I didn’t want you to have to give up anything for me.” 

His smile is sweeter now and he reaches to brush away her tears. “You were willing to give up an entire kingdom, a crown, and your family for me. Is it so unreasonable to believe that I would do the same for you?” He leans in to kiss her but she stops him before their lips can touch, a hand on his chest. 

“Wait. I want to say something before you kiss me and I forget everything I’m thinking.” He gives her an amused smirk but nods. “When I was in the other reality, I met another version of you.” 

“Aye. I had a similar experience.” 

“He told me something.” She remembers the younger Killian’s words, ones she’d been so afraid to believe. But he’s given up so much for her and she needs him to know that it’s not just him, that he’s not the only one who found his home. “He told me that I’m your happy ending. But before you say anything,” she cuts off the words that had started to come out of his mouth and he shuts it. “I want you to know… that you’re mine.” 

His eyes water at her confession, smile wobbly as he beams at her. “Now can I kiss you?” 

“Yeah,” she laughs and he lunges forward, smile capturing hers in a way that she knows he’s here to stay. She never should have doubted it at all. 

***

“I could get used to this, you know,” he tells her as they make their way up to her room, much to her father’s irritation - ‘We’ll get you set up in some quarters-’ ‘David.’ - and his amusement. 

They’d spent the day patiently sitting through meals and plans and agreements with her parents, Killian constantly thrown off guard whenever a servant would appear, as though by magic, and offer him something to eat, or refill his cup when it was empty - something he would have to watch out for, lest he accidentally get sloshed in front of her father. 

The halls they walk through now are ornate, carved stone and gilded windows, art the likes of which could buy a thousand ships decorating the walls. “I can’t believe you were going to give this up for a cabin and a galley.”

Emma snorts, hand holding his hook as they walk, swinging it between them. “One day in a castle and you’ve taken to the life?” she asks, parroting his words from so long ago. Killian only smirks. 

“It’s a hard life to resist when it comes with such a lovely face,” he flirts and sees her cheeks flush even as she rolls her eyes. He reaches out and brushes a thumb over her blush. “And such a lovely colour.” He continues to trace along her jaw. “And such a lovely neck,” he says, fingers ghosting along the line of it. 

Emma’s tongue slips out to run over her lip as her breathing shallows and he feels a pang of desire tug him closer. He’s not touched her, not properly, in over a week, and with the adrenaline of the last few days finally fading, he’s overcome with the need to feel her beneath his hand and mouth. He traces her collarbone, fingers inching towards the swell of her breasts, following the curve of the lace that hides her from him. “And such lovely -” 

She pulls him down the hall, the last few meters to her bedroom where two guards stand outside, the same he’d done away with last night. “You can go, thank you,” she tells them, pushing the door open and dragging him inside. Killian can’t help the smug smirk he flashes at them before she shuts the door.

She grabs for him, tugging at the clasps of his vest as she scolds, “You can’t touch me like that in a hallway where my parents live and where there are a hundred guards constantly watching us.” 

He raises an amused brow, shucking his coat and vest as she starts on the buttons of his shirt. “If this is your reaction, love, I think I very much can - and will.” He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, hooked arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her and spinning them so he can press her against the door. The wanton little gasp she gives when her back collides with the wood goes straight to his cock and he presses the hardening length into her as she wraps her legs around his hips, watching her bite her lip before claiming it for himself.

Gods he missed her. His mouth slants over hers finding her tongue and growling into her when her hands reach for his belt, tossing it to the floor and starting on his laces. This is hardly the way he’d intended for their reunion to go but her grip is already vice-like around him and he’s shoving her skirts up around her hips. 

She strokes him hard, as though she can read his mind when she says, “we can go slow later.” There’s filth in her eyes and in her promise and he’s going to bloody lose his mind if he’s not inside her another moment. Killian takes her hands, forcing her to release him and pinning them above her head with hand and hook, the motion so familiar, too familiar. 

He stops, memories of her - another her - splayed out on his desk while he fucked her like this and he knows she said Emma wouldn’t mind, but he does. His desire is replaced by guilt, and fear of her reaction when he tells her. Because he has to tell her. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sensing his change in mood. 

“I…” He looks away, releasing her hands and they settle on his shoulders to steady herself as he lets her down carefully. “I have to confess something to you.” 

“What is it?” Her voice is full of concern, for him and only for him, her hands gentle on his cheeks, stroking through the silver patches in his beard she knows better than him now. “You’re scaring me a little,” she says and he makes himself look at her, heart heavy. 

“When the Emma from the Land Without Magic came here in your stead, she sought me out for help and I... I thought she was you and we shared… a dalliance. I’m sorry, love. If I’d known - I should have known.” He expects anger, fears hurt, but instead she sighs in what sounds like relief, a small smile at the corner of her lips before she rises on her toes and presses them to his. “You’re not angry?” he asks, pulling back in surprise, and relief. 

She shakes her head. “You thought she was me, didn’t you?” 

“Aye.” 

“And you had no reason to think she wasn’t - I mean, she is me.” But she wasn’t. And that was what tore him up inside. “And, it would be hypocritical of me to be jealous.” He looks at her in question. “I thought… I thought you’d been cursed, given fake memories by the Evil Queen.” 

“The Evil Queen?” She nods, his heart frantic at the thought of what danger she might have been in. 

“I was terrified, and he - you - made me feel safe,” she says, hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Like you always do.” He strokes a hand through her hair, glad that there was a version of him there to help her, to make sure she came back to him in one piece. He wouldn’t trust her safety to anyone else. “So if you’re guilty of something, then I suppose I am too. But I’m glad she found you, that she had you by her side because I don’t think I’d have made it through that ordeal without you either.” 

“Emma,” he says softly, cupping the side of her face and kissing her brow. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And neither did you,” she says firmly. “I think that maybe you and I, Killian and Emma, are meant to find each other, to save each other, to fight for each other, no matter what world or circumstances we’re born into. We belong together. Always.” 

His chest feels as though it was going to burst, swelling with the love he has for this woman, love that no time or place or distance or curse could ever falter. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good.” 

He kisses her again, softer than before, hand gentle as he explores the length of her arms and back and waist through her dress. They have time for slow now. “You’re entirely over dressed,” he tells her and she nods, smiling as he reaches for her laces and begins to pull them free, mouth at her neck and then her breasts when he sends both dress and shift to pile to the floor. 

“Now that,” he comments, looking over her shoulder, “is the biggest bloody bed I’ve ever seen in my life.” Emma laughs, one of the favorite sounds he knows he can draw from her. He scoops her up again, hand and hook wrapping her legs around his waist. “I say we make proper use of it,” he suggests, crossing the room. 

He drops her on the mattress, watching her practically disappear beneath the thousands of pillows scattered over the blankets. He crawls over her, tossing them all aside one by one as he digs her out and she giggles. “First thing to go when I move in are these bloody pillows.” 

Emma raises a brow, biting back her smile. “When you move in? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” 

He narrows his eyes playfully, dips his head to nip at her shoulder. “I believe I’ve all but been ordered to, love.” He nips her again, lower this time, teeth grazing over the swell of her breast. “And if there’s one thing a captain knows, it’s that orders must be obeyed.” 

“Well, if they must, they must,” she says, long suffering and he kisses her quickly before sitting up to shuck his shirt, reaching for his brace. “Wait.” He stops and finds her watching him nervously, face flushing and he knows that expression. She wants something and she’s too embarrassed to ask for it. 

“What is it?”

“I… Killian told me something else.” 

He almost expected to feel jealousy, her blush and her hesitation making him think that he told her something in a very similar position to that in which they find themselves now. But he only finds curiosity, realizing it’s a rare and intriguing situation he finds himself in for her to have been with a version of him who didn’t share their history, who may know things about her that they’d not shared yet or that Emma doesn’t even know about herself. He remembers the ‘yes, captain’ that had fallen from the other Emma’s lips, something he’d not known he wanted to hear or that he would enjoy so much.

“I imagine he told you many things, he’s a very wise man,” he teases, lowering himself back down over her. She rolls her eyes a little but some of her anxiety wavers. He kisses her, chaste and sweet. “What is it, love? I’m not jealous.” 

“He said that you take your hook off because you think I won’t like it - that most women are afraid of it.” 

“Aye.” Insightful bastard, isn’t he? 

Her eyes soften, fingers tracing the silver in his hair she’s so fond of as she brushes it back from his face. “Killian,” she sounds almost annoyed. “I’ve never been afraid of your hook. It’s as much a part of you as your hand or your wrist, or… any other appendages,” she flushes again and he smirks. Emma brings a hand to his cheek, eyes soft, serious. “I love every part of you, alright?” 

He nods. “Alright.” 

“Good. So only take it off with me if you want to. Not because you think I do. I know it makes you feel safer to have it on.” He was touched that she’d noticed, though he ever said anything, but after so many years of living at sea, at risk of attack at any moment, being caught without his brace and hook left him feeling vulnerable in more ways than one. 

He leans down, lips falling over hers gently. “Thank you.” Emma reaches for him when he breaks the kiss, pulling him back down to her and presses her mouth to his. She kisses him slow and deep, mouths wide and tongues searching, Killian lowering himself over her as he tries to get closer. His stomach tightens at the small sounds she makes when her breasts press against his chest, when his hips lie flush with hers, the long, low moan she lets out when she feels his cock hardening against her. 

He trails his mouth along her neck, tongue hot and wet against her skin as he tastes every inch of her. She gasps when he rolls his tongue over her nipple, pulling it into his mouth to nip and suck slowly, lazily and he can feel her growing more frustrated beneath him, clinging to his hair and back. Killian smiles against her skin, he knows that when she gets like this it’s so easy to make her come, that he’ll be able to do it again again on his fingers and tongue and cock. And it makes him wonder. 

The high, choked sound that leaves her when he glides the rounded curve of his hook over her breast makes him growl low in his throat and he does it again, dragging the sharp tip in a slow circle around her nipple. She hisses out a ‘yes’, writhing slightly beneath him and gods he doesn’t think his cock has ever been so hard in his life. 

He slides the edge over her stomach and watches her press her lips together in anticipation, nodding when he hesitates above the apex of her thighs. ‘Please’. The sight of her seaking her release on his hook is something he never thought he’d crave so desperately, and it drives him almost mad with lust. 

His mouth closes over the peak of her breast again, hook between her legs, rolling over that sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the desperate rocking of her hips as he brings her to the edge once more. Her mumbled, incoherent pleas of his name and for more nearly make him spill himself in his leathers like a still wet-behind-the-ears lad. She’s always had this effect on him, the only one who seems to be able to defy his age and his experience and make him so bloody quick off the mark.

When he can see she’s nearly found her release, just at the crest of that clifftop, he slides between her thighs, thrusting into her and feeling her come on his cock. “Gods, you’re bloody brilliant, Swan,” he curses, rocking into her and relishing every exhausted little moan of pleasure that she lets out when he pushes back in. He can feel the ripples of aftershocks trembling around him. “Can you keep going, love?” he asks, watching the lazy way her back arches under him, her brow pulled low over tightly shut eyes, not wanting to push her past her limit with how tired she no doubt is. 

He’d not meant it as a challenge, but he can see the way one flashes in her eyes when she opens them, narrows them at him, and then she’s pushing at his shoulder. He lets her roll him onto his back and he sits up when she falls over him to capture his mouth with hers, holding them both upright as she glues herself to him and kisses him until she draws a low moan from his chest. 

She ruts her hips against his, a strangled cry falling from his lips as she smirks. “Can you?” He’s at a loss for words when her hand wraps around his length, rising and sinking down over him. His hand fists in her hair, drags her mouth back down to his and kisses her as she rocks against him. They pant and moan and gasp against each other’s lips, breaking away only enough to curse or speak words of praise and encouragement and pleas into the air between them as she moves over him. 

He can tell that she’s close, the sounds leaving her faster and she pushes him down onto his back, leveraging herself on his chest as she rides him towards her release. She’s not a princess, she's a bloody goddess, golden hair falling around her shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she takes her pleasure, bringing him to the brink of his own. 

He can’t not touch her, sliding over the length of her stomach, feeling each rise and fall of her ribs, closing his hand around the soft skin of her breast, thumb rolling over her hardened nipple. He traces up her neck to cup the back of her head when he feels her start to tremble around him, pulling her down to slant his lips over hers as he comes, hard and sharp and leaving him shaking, tasting her release on his tongue as she follows him over the edge.

“Gods, I missed you,” he breathes as she collapses over him. They lay panting for a long time, Emma’s weight a pleasant comfort over his chest and hips as he draws patterns over her back. When she eventually rolls off of him, he pulls her to him, tucking her back snugly against him and pressing a kiss to her ear. 

“I think I’m a fan of this whole confession thing,” she says, still breathless and exhausted and he laughs. “Anything else you feel the need to get off your chest?” Emma teases. 

“Not at the moment, love, but I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something once my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest.”

“I have one,” she says after a long pause and he can feel the shift in her mood. “I may have accidentally stolen the Jolly Roger back.” 

“What?” He lifts his head and she looks over her shoulder at him. 

“Yeah. I came back on board and it was empty and I brought it here to find you.” 

“Bloody hell.” He wants to laugh. No doubt he’ll probably have to face Blackbeard at some point over it, but he’d not gone back on their bargain. Blackbeard had left the ship unattended and so it was taken from him. He beams at her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re unbelievable.” His heart feels lighter. While he’d have traded it a hundred times over for the woman in his arms, he can’t shake the joy at having his ship back.

“Does that… change anything?” 

“Like what?”  

“Do you still want to stay? You have a choice now… more than you did when you said yes and I-”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Swan? There was never any choice. It was always you. I told you a year ago. I’ll be here until you send me away.” 

A tear slips down her cheek but he knows it’s a happy one so he only kisses the trail it leaves in its wake. “Okay.”

“Okay.” 

“Then I have something else to confess.” 

“Oh?” he asks. Emma nods, reaching for his hand that’s still wrapped around her, resting over her heart. She draws it down until it rests low on her stomach and folds both her own over it. It takes him a moment, a heartbeat where he looks at her in confusion before it clicks and his heart doesn’t beat at all for a second. “Swan?” He looks up at her, searching her face for answers, not able to believe it, but she nods, lip caught between her teeth. “Are you sure?” His voice is rough, tears caught in the back of his throat. 

“Yes.” 

Killian shifts so she can roll onto her back, spreading his hand wider over her still flat stomach. He looks at her in awe more emotions than he has names for flooding through him as he leans down and kisses her belly. A child. His child, something he never thought he’d have. Milah hadn’t wanted any others after Bae and there’d been no one he’d wanted to share that with after she died. Until now.

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“I’m bloody terrified,” he laughs, unable to look away from where his hand rests over the life they’ve created. Terrified and happy, the happiest he’s ever been in his long, long life. 

“Oh, good, me too.” 

He kisses her stomach again and then takes her face in his hand and kisses her the way he had when she told him she loved him, the same overwhelming joy and disbelief and honour. “Thank you.” 

“I mean, you did half the work…” 

He shakes his head, laughing as he kisses her again for her cheek. “For everything. For loving me, for fighting me on it, for bringing light and laughter and hope back into my life, Emma. I love you. So much. And I promise I’ll be there for you and for her,” he says, hand settling back over her stomach, “for the rest of my life.” 

“Her?” she asks, her smile wet with tears that he wipes away. 

“Aye. A little girl, strong and powerful like her mother, and born of true love like her as well.” 

Emma pulls him down to her, kissing him hard and fast and he’s not sure whose tears are dampening their cheeks but he doesn’t care. “I love you.” She says it with so much certainty, a deep smile pulling at his lips. “But you remember that whole true love thing, okay. You’re gonna need it.” 

Killian raises a brow. “Why’s that?” 

“My dad might actually try and kill you for this.” 

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[movedhornyblog2]

experiments

to fill out my blog, i decided to post one of my suuuuuuper old tickle fics - it includes the old design of my sona, lizzie, so take everything with a grain of salt cos she looks and acts way different now lmaooo

i'm lowkey kinda embarrassed abt this fic cos i wrote it a couple years ago and reading my old writing makes me cringe but its content so buckle up baby here we go

fandom: original characters characters: lizzie (sona)((old design)), detached scientist voice coming from a speaker summary: lizzie wakes up in a locked room that appears to be inside of a science facility, strapped to a chair for the entertainment of the researchers who captured her - kinky shenanigans ensue 3677 words warnings: cnc, kidnapping, tickling, forced orgasms, denial, */f

enjoy!!

“Subject 001 appears to be incredibly sensitive all over her upper body,” 

a sharp, monotonous voice cuts through the silence of the dim and chilly room, the sudden sound momentarily snapping Lizzie out of her amorous daze and causing her to jump slightly in her spot, although the metal cuffs binding her wrists to the chair she sat in didn’t really allow her to move much at all.

“... Especially around her breasts, which - when touched - produce wildly different reactions than the rest of her does.”

The loudspeaker that carried the voice around the room then died off with a loud click, leaving the imp alone once again with nothing but the sounds of her panting and giggly moans filling her cell. The brunette was currently strapped quite tightly by her arms to a metal chair in the middle of an empty dungeonesque type room, clad in nothing but a thin - and quite wet - pair of patterned pastel pink panties, her glasses discarded somewhere near her on the cold concrete tile floor. Somewhere near those would be the scraps of her matching bra, which was hastily torn to shreds before her… “testing” even actually began.

On the floor beside her were two metal hatches, both slid open enough to make room for the array of small mechanical hands that had snaked their way around the girl’s mostly naked body, their fingers eagerly searching for any sensitive spots they could find - and unfortunately for the brunette, they had eventually settled right at her exposed breasts after she had endured quite a bit of gentle tickling and lingering, teasy touches everywhere else from them. Two of those dastardly hands had taken to pinching and rolling her nipples in between their thumbs and forefingers, occasionally skittering over the normally covered skin between her chest or intricately swirling around the outer edges of her sensitive spots, slowly coming closer and closer before gently scratching right at the tips of those erect mounds - all of which sent Lizzie into a fit of whimpers and moans, her eyes tightly squeezed shut while her body trembled with pleasure and stifled giggles. Every stroke, every soft caress made her melt more and more into the chair, her bottom lip becoming red and sore from how hard she was biting it to try and keep herself from dissolving into loud and embarrassing pleasured noises. 

The imp had no idea how long she had been in this position, and it was starting to worry her quite a lot. Every passing second felt like several hours - and honest to god, she had no idea how she even got here in the first place. In her sleepy, almost drugged-like state upon first waking up in the room, she was barely able to make out the dark silhouettes of two taller figures looming above her, their fuzzy and far-off sounding voices flowing in through one ear and out the other - the only things she was able to pick up on were “inhuman”, “possibly dangerous”, “weaknesses” and “experiments” before blacking back out, waking up bound and naked however long after that. The only thing that mattered to her now was finding a way out of this place - and not allowing herself to be embarrassed any more than she already had been there.

Pulling her back out of her thoughts, a third hand sneakily twisted itself around the back of the chair and slowly approached Lizzie’s side, waiting for the perfect moment before lunging forwards and grabbing a handful of pudge, it’s fingers skittering and massaging into her skin and making her shriek in surprise, all of the bottled up moans and quiet little cackles steadily flowing out of her mouth almost immediately after that. Paired with the two tools currently playing mercilessly with her breasts, the heat and the lustful aching between her legs caused by those fingers was becoming increasingly hard to handle - every touch sent a jolt of electricity down her spine and right into her special spot, making her gasp loudly and arch her back, her fingers curling tightly into fists. If she had to endure another second of this tickly torture, she would burst at the seams, so she did the only thing she could think of doing in that moment - she squeezed her knees together, wincing slightly at how sensitive and wet she already was down there, but relishing in the reality of just exactly how good doing that felt to her.

It was then that the loudspeaker squealed back to life.

“Subject 001, you were told to keep your legs wide open, is this incorrect?”

“M-my nahahame— my nahahame ihihis L-Lihihihizzie!” The girl responds quickly through choked laughter, her voice dry and hoarse from how much she had already laughed and shrieked throughout this session, “ahahahand—!”

“Is this incorrect, 001?”

“Hnnnnhhhh— n-nohoho, buhuhut-!”

“And you were told that there would be consequences for doing exactly that, correct?”

“Ffffffuuuuhuhuhuuuuhghh—!! I dohohohon’t cahahahare! Mmhh..! Let mehehe gohoho, you creheheeeheheeps!! Or I’ll- Ihihi’ll—!”

Before the girl could finish her sentence and throw whatever empty threat that had popped into her mind out into the open or make any more snarky remarks, a harsh, ear-splitting beep rang throughout the room, making her choke on her words and immediately flinch back into her seat. The poor girl had no time to even attempt to gather her bearings or look around to try and find the source of the new and alarming sound, as several more of those robotic hands shot out from the open trapdoors, an array of different tools clasped tightly in between their devilish fingers. Some wielded threateningly fluffy feathers, others teasingly twirled around makeup or paint brushes dangerously close to Lizzie’s arched sides, and the rest flaunted little combs or big, chunky hair brushes that already sent powerful chills down her back just by the look of how horribly they would tickle. However, the things that really caught her attention were the two large, metal claws that slowly twisted out from the floor and now ominously loomed above her, each one opening and closing their jaws softly and almost mockingly at her, a quiet clicking noise sounding out every time they opened and shut again.

It didn’t take long for her to react; her breath quickened, her eyes as wide as plates as she struggled with a sudden burst of adrenaline against her restraints, legs kicking out hard enough to break something and with reckless abandon while her head shook wildly from side to side.

“Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck fuck FUCK— No no nonononono, no!! Don’t—!! Hahhh— M-Make them go back!! Make them go away, don’t let them any closer!! P-Please—!”

“Now, now, little lab rat… Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be. It’s for the sake of scientific research, after all - and if you can’t follow simple orders…”

The voice replied calmly, yet sharply -  there was a hint of a smirk in their otherwise emotionless tone, which only made the girl’s chill’s ten times worse. Her eyes remained locked on the claws the entire time, her protests and any frightened noises becoming trapped in her throat every time they so much as wiggled slightly in the air - she had no clue what they were meant to do, her mind simultaneously blanking and coming up with the craziest of thoughts the longer they hovered, filling the imp with the strongest sense of dread she’d felt in a long time.

Luckily - or rather unluckily - for her, the teasing only lasted a few moments more. Like a snake lashing out towards its prey, the claws lunged forwards and tightly snapped shut around her ankles, earning a rather girly and high pitched shriek of terror from Lizzie, who’s eyes immediately squeezed closed as her body flattened itself protectively against the back of the chair. It only took a second or two for her to realize that nothing objectively bad or scary had happened to her - although she almost wished that it had, as the sudden feeling of her legs being lifted and slowly, tauntingly spread apart made her eyes fly back open, the girl gasping a little as she tried desperately to fight back, to pull her legs as close to her as possible - but to no avail.

“... They’ll just have to be enforced a little more firmly, wouldn’t you agree? The more you cooperate with us the faster this process will go,” with her legs now being completely spread out in front of her, there was no shielding herself from the pesky hand that inched its way closer to her crotch, sticking out its index finger and slowly dragging it in a circle around her lips through the fabric of her panties, which easily got the brunette to dissolve into quiet little gasps and stifled moans, “although I’m almost certain that you’d like this testing to go on for longer than you’d care to admit, judging by how soaked you are already. Speaking of, this pathetic piece of cloth won’t be needed anymore. It only gets in the way of driving you closer and closer to the edge.”

With quite a bit of force, the hand that teased Lizzie’s sensitive spots now hooked it's fingers around the waistband of her panties, wasting no time in forcefully ripping them off of her, earning incredibly embarrassed whimpers from her as she helplessly watched the shreds of her beloved underwear and last line of defence flutter to the ground. Now that she was completely uncovered, the hand moved back, easily able to slip back between her legs and stroke up and down the slick area with the softest of movements, which already drove the poor imp up the wall.

“But of course, we won’t let you finish that easily.”

“Mmmhhh… You… Bihihitch…” 

The girl growls between breathless, airy moans and quiet giggles, as now another hand was added into the mixture - one that busied itself with carefully fluttering its fingers back and forth along her lower tummy, just barely making contact with her hips before making a sharp turn and starting the process again in the other direction. 

“Ah ah ah, there you go again, mouthing off to the hand that feeds you… will you ever learn, Lizzie? I think you need to be taught a lesson, one that’ll stick with you until the very end. Luckily for you, we have all the equipment required to do such a thing. Isn’t that just lovely?”

Furrowing her brows even further than they already were, Lizzie tilts her head back against the chair, biting her lip yet again to try and block the pleasurable feelings out and concentrate on what exactly the voice had just said to her.

“Wh-.. Whahahat do yohohou—..?”

“Good luck, and try not to break too soon, 001. We may wish to have some more fun with you later.”

And with that, the intercom shut off with a click, and the girl very quickly started to get a sense of what they meant with their sinister, almost playfully threatening words.

The unexpected feeling of the feathers beginning to stroke up and down her sides made Lizzie squeal and arch her back, a new wave of helpless giggles flooding out of her mouth. Up and down and up and down they went, the soft fibers covering every inch of sensitive skin they could reach, their tips just barely grazing over the spots underneath her arms before flicking back down, ending right above her hips before going back up and starting again. After a few rounds of that, a pair of makeup brushes were introduced to the squirming girl’s underarms - slowly they started circling the outer edges of her ticklish spots, getting closer and closer to the center with every passing stroke until they began wiggling over them at record-breaking speeds, sending the imp into much louder hysterics. Her fingers clenched into fists, her arms desperately trying to clamp closer to her sides as she whined, wiggling herself from side to side to try and rid herself of the unbearably soft tickly sensations - which only seemed to entice the robotics more.

Almost all at once, the rest of the hands sprung forwards, fighting for dominance over which sensations would get the girl to scream with laughter the loudest. Paintbrushes now swooped and glided over her tummy, missing not an inch of skin as Lizzie tried her hardest to suck it in, their bristles easily following her every move - it didn’t take long before they were joined by another pair of empty hands, which held her hips still and simultaneously squished and squeezed at the bit of chub pooling around there, every time causing her to shriek out a laugh. This seemingly made it easier for the paintbrushes to be as precise as possible, now allowing for one of them to teasingly trace along the edge of her bellybutton before dipping in and tickling the very bottom of it. The rest of her upper body was subjected to the same torture - her ribs were counted over and over again, fingers being stuffed between them through her pudge every time she moved even the slightest bit, which always effortlessly got her cackling without fail. This always got the attention of the other ticklers - in an almost battle like way, all the other hands would up their tickling any time Lizzie’s laughter went up an octave, leaving her screaming and snorting and thrashing around until they decided to slow things down once again, keeping her in an endless loop of near hysteria.

On the softer side of things, two makeup brushes flicked up and down both sides of her neck, keeping her head twitching every which way as she was unsure of which direction to move in to block out the tickles. Each time she moved her head left, the brush on the right side of her neck would scribble around like crazy until she moved back, and so on. Her ears were included in the torture, as well - big, fluffy feathers gently caressed the edges of them, moving up and teasingly circling around the pointed tip before swishing back down.

Her chest was under the attack of more stiff feathers, which were positioned vertically underneath her nipples and viciously tugged back and forth, almost as if they were sawing through the bark of a tree - this really got the girl moaning, her shoulders shaking with both laughter and pleasure while she sunk backwards, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her chest heaving as she panted needingly.

“PLEEEEEHEHEHEASE!! I-I cahahan’t tahahake a-anymohohore..! Nnnghh— mahahake ihihit— mmmhh, stohohohop…!”

Unfortunately for her, it seemed as though her pleas for mercy either went unheard or were ignored completely, as the next thing she knew - she was watching anxiously as her legs were straightened out in front of her, the hands which wielded hairbrushes as well as empty ones approaching her very unprotected feet with visible hunger. Her toes curled and wiggled in anticipation, the mere sight of it all making her giggles rise in pitch already. The teasing was slow; a single finger placed against her heels, then slowly swiping up and down the entire length of her soles, right up underneath her toes and back down, which was already enough to keep her squealing - but oh no, it didn’t stop there. After testing the waters and warming the brunette up for what was to come, her toes were then held back, leaving her completely vulnerable to all the tickling she was about to endure. The hands then took the form of claws, eagerly raking themselves up and down her taut soles with vigor, paying close attention to her reactions as they scribbled along her arches and the highest part of her soles overall. Tears were now freely streaming down Lizzie’s face, her cheeks a very deep shade of red, a color which spread all down her neck and to the tips of her ears as she gasped and shrieked, her laughter breaking with loud moans or gasps for air every so often. This wasn’t even the worst of it though. As those fingers moved higher and higher up towards her toes to pinch and wiggle and dig in between them, they were replaced by the rough, horribly ticklish sensation of the brushes chasing them away and then pumping back and forth along the middle of her soles while the combs zigzagged and zipped all around her heels.

Now the poor girl was absolutely hysterical. Her laughter was nothing more than shrill screams and hiccups, silent and breathless as she slumped back, practically unmoving save for her periodic twitching and the rapid rising and falling of her chest. Thankfully this only lasted a few more moments before the tickling let up, nearly all of the hands retracting save for a few - some which gently traced soft patterns and shapes into her soles, others which swirled fluffy feather tips around her tummy and sides, two at her chest that played carefully with her nipples and a few others which slowly twisted their way between her legs with devious intentions - although Lizzie barely seemed to notice, too caught up in catching her breath and attempting to regain at least a tiny bit of her strength before anything else happened.

The slow, long lick of a feather against her outer lips proved that trying to ready herself for the torture to continue was useless, the feeling of it already making her moan out loud, giggles following close behind. Lick after lick, stroke after stroke sent the girl into immense ticklish bliss, her eyes gently squeezed shut as she rocked her hips closer to the feather, trying to get more pleasure out of this. Very clearly taking it as a sign, she was slowly spread apart, the imp biting down gleefully on her bottom lip as the feather’s tip came in contact with her aching bud, circling around it slower than ever. Once again the stroking started - up and down and up and down, Lizzie’s breathing began to quicken, her body shaking once more. Her head rolled back happily as the feather began to saw across her, ever so slowly increasing speed, that tight feeling starting to build up right in the bottom of her tummy. It was then that two small makeup brushes were introduced into the situation, both taking turns brushing up and down her lips and over any spots that the feather missed. The brunette was quickly approaching the edge, her toes starting to curl as her fingers clenched, her moans turning to gasps and becoming more frequent and higher-pitched, until… 

The hands stopped, going agonizingly slowly once again, making the girl’s eyes shoot open as she whined loudly and childishly, her body relaxing.

“W-Wait!! No, no, nonono— y-you cahahan’t…! You—! Ahhnnnghh—..”

Over and over, the imp was brought to the edge by the feather, every flick and stroke and kiss driving her further and further into madness. Each time she was denied the orgasm she so desperately needed, she’d whimper, slamming her body back against the chair as her panting gradually grew louder and more desperate, only to be forced back into her arched position by the hands starting their torture up all over again. Her mind was starting to go fuzzy - all she could think of now was release, of how badly she needed it or else she’d lose her mind completely. 

Somewhere in between being edged twenty or thirty times, the fingers dancing across her feet had been replaced with the brushes, which pressed down hard against her soles and slowly dragged around them, up and down and side to side and in whichever direction they could think of, immediately bringing the girl to a state of seriously aroused hysteria. Her palms slapped weakly against the armrests of the chair, more tears beginning to trickle down her seriously flushed cheeks - her laughter came out mostly as moans with embarrassing hiccups and squeals in between them as she was once again edged for what felt like the hundredth time that day. With a desperate cry, she throws her hips down towards the fluffy utensils, only to be denied and slump back down with a defeated pout… or at least what she could manage of one through her giggles.

This time, however, as the procedure began all over again, the feather and makeup brushes didn’t stop once she was back on the edge - instead, they sped up, all of their focus being directly on her most sensitive spot, which was hot and begging for release. All too quickly she was back to being an absolute mess, toes curling tightly, body shaking more than ever at the overwhelming amount of pleasure she was dealing with.

“Ohhh god, o-ohohoh ffffuuuuhuhuhuck, mmmhhhplehehehease, PLEASE!! F-FAHAHASTER!! Ihihi cahahan’t— I-I’m gohohonna-!”

Before she could even finish her sentence, she just about burst, hitting the orgasm she craved with a long drawn out whimper - she came, and she came hard, but that simply wasn’t enough for them. Instead of stopping after the last bit of her orgasm finished rocking her, they kept going, their speeds reaching levels that nearly broke the poor imp girl, her eyes squeezing shut and her teeth clenching as she came again - and then again, and again and again and again until she physically couldn’t anymore, her voice nearly completely gone by how loud she had been.

It was then that all the hands and the big metal claws pulled away, leaving her trembling and hiccuping form lying still against the chair, which slowly tilted back with a mechanical whirring until it stopped, clicking into place with a pop and allowing Lizzie to lay back, the cuffs around her wrists unlocking themselves so she could be comfortable. Eyes heavy and with the biggest, dopiest grin on her blushy and tear-stained face, the girl slowly drifted off with a pair of fingers stroking gently through her hair - and secretly wishing that she’d be in for a second round of experimenting just like this one tomorrow morning.

[xxdreamersdesirexx]

Good morning everyone!! 💖💖💖

I'm out running errands with my "vestie" Dallas! (We are both wearing vests! 🤣)

It suuuuuuper rainy today and we got soaked carrying groceries and filling air in the tires!!

We're stopping for a taco bell break now :D

--🎀💖

[moodysullie]

Hey Sullie! I just want to thank you for all those danny bunch content!! I have two questions for you: What are your favourite roles by him and do you have a most favourite gif/pic of his?❤️❤️

Hellooo ❤️ I'm happy that you like my DB posts. Imma be real, I think I joined this fandom like suuuuuuper late, but when the time is right it's like 'that's it I've fallen to the bottom of the pit and there's no way up so I'm DEFINITELY staying' 😂

As for your questions:

1) favorite roles by Daniel Brühl: I couldn't choose only one 😭 so here's my as-short-as-it-can-be list.

- Niki Lauda in 'Rush' is guaranteed for the 1st place. I'm not a fan of F1 nor have any knowledge about it at all so I cannot say if his depiction of Lauda is accurate or not, BUT he gave one hell of the performance. Until this day, I'm still amazed how he could channel his emotions and his acting under those make-up & prosthetics. The hospital scene was a highlight. Solid AAA+++

It's sad to know that not only his fans were disappointed (in the Academy) because he didn't get an Oscar nomination, but it affected Daniel as well and it hit him really hard (according to his ARTE documentary). I know 2013 was a year filled with masterpieces here and there in every aspect, especially actors, I just wish he could get one among other nominees as well.

- Laszlo Kreizler in 'The Alienist' because there are uncountable amount of inner conflict in Kreizler. Again, I haven't read the book so I have no clue of the original, but I really like how he portrayed the alienist at that time. The healer of the mind who couldn't heal his own. A doctor who was capable of inflicting pain on others, even though it's unintentionally (he's a victim of domestic violence). A man who wanted honesty from others by telling them to face their demons but he, himself, couldn't bear the pain and face his own.

- Alex Garel in 'Eva'. There were so much subtlety, so much nuances in his performance, very repressed (in my opinion, which is totally in-character) and it paid off in the end (shoutout to Sergi Belbel, Cristina Clemente, Martí Roca & Aintza Serra who were writers for this movie.)

- Escherich in 'Alone in Berlin' because he could convince me, make me feel sympathetic for the inspector.

Man, I'm such a sucker for genius with different sides and shades in one person. Complex characters are my thing. 😂

2) favorite pic/gif of DB: NOOOO DON'T HURT ME THIS WAY 🥲 most of my fav are when Daniel was in film festivals, press con, masterclass or anything film-related. He looks sooo in the zone, like it's where he belongs.

But right now? This one

Why? Easy

I like Daniel.

I like men in white shirt.

I like men with this hairstyle (I am completely forgot how it's called at the time I'm typing this.)

I love cats.

And I like when someone I like playing with cats.

End of the story. 😌

(Also, I write this at 2am in my time so sorry for any misspelling or anything else. 😴)

[idolapollo]

Dedicated DEV LOG #1

hey!! it's apollo/nyarl!! this'll be a first in a series of posts that are basically indie game development logs filled with a shit ton of rambling

i'll maybe try and post these monthly or bi-monthly, but it's mostly for me to motivate myself to make progress to have something to show off and to archive the process of making a game!

this month's dev log is dedicated to—well—"Dedicated To..."

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

(i may keep saying this for future projects and games so bear with me) "Dedicated To..." (abbreviated as DT from now on) originally was an idea i had in middle school!

it was really edgy tho and i'd honestly kms if it ever got leaked to the public but it was essentially an angst piece for when i was discovering my own sexuality as a gay cis man

staying somewhat true to its gay angst origins, this game is a story based psychological horror rpg maker game! maybe you can add it's a story based gay psychological horror rpg maker game lmao

it won't be a long game, and it'll have 4 routes determined by one early game choice and 5 endings!! the 5th one is considered a secret dont tell anyone

i did change the protagonist's name and design bc it was literally just a self insert for me lmao even had clothes i often wore fucking lame

BUT ANYWAYS!!!!! you'll play as tybalt, a college student majoring in english literature or something as he struggles to create a fairy tale as his capstone (don't think about it too much)

here's a preview of his full art and draft of his portrait as thanks for listening to me ramble so far i will continue to ramble!! (i have yet to turn it into pixel art and plan different expressions)

i really wanted to make a gay character with these kinda cat eyes whatever you call em lol

and the man he'll be pinning for is reyn!! i didnt give him a major bc it doesnt matter in the grand scheme of things!!! he's probably a finance major!!!!

also idk why i named him reyn, it was something i kept from the original middle school stories

ig it was because i was watching chugga's lets play of xenoblade lmao

i've taken some time with working with rpg maker mz before since i had the chance to use it in a game dev class (after splurging most of my financial aid on plugins lmao), but unless i can figure out javascript on my own and break the engine, i'll be focusing on using rpg maker vx ace since it has more plugins!

for now, i'm still focusing on the story and full body character art before diving into programming and learning how to make pixel art _(:3」∠)_

btw i forgot to mention that part. yeah i'm an absolute newbie when it comes to pixel art so i have to learn that too cries

even though i'm making it in rpg maker vx ace, i'm aiming to recreate the feel of rpg maker 2000/2003 because i was SUUUUUUPER inspired by end roll, okegom's games, and specifically for this game charon's works!! so now i gotta bust out the pixels

there will be 4 routes with 5 endings! there was another route + ending but i scrapped it because i only had an idea of the ending (more on that in the future) and nothing else lol

so far i've drafted 3 of the 4 routes! even though there is no canon ending, the 4th one is the one that has the 5th ending and can branch off into other works (once again more on that in the future lmao)

i'm starting to write the dialogue for the 1st route and it's going okay!! tbh i wish i worked on it more over summer break while my college classes aren't gonna kill my ass and classes start next week (´；ω；`)

but i spent a majority of summer break testing out medication for my adhd, and i still am!! it was a really rough process and i'm glad i didn't go through mania-like symptoms while classes were going on _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

i'm better now tho and i say i'm at a semi good spot!! now time to treat my horrid anxiety lol

i'll end it here for now before it gets too long!! sorry and thanks to listening to me ramble! i'll leave you with a snippet of the intro!

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

[rocket-candy-heart]

Going to a used bookstore and finding kind of rare old paperbacks that cost $2 is one of the best ways to spend an afternoon

[saltydumplings]

Hi yes I'm here to bother you with a story request

Character A has noticed Character B has been avoiding them somewhat, and when the two are alone A asks if they can play with B's hair. This is when they find out B is suuuuuuper touch starved due to jealousy about their assumptions of A's relationship with someone else (maybe thinking A has a crush and is jealous because they really like A) and had been avoiding A to not think about it

No I'm definitely not touch-starved and craving some fluff rn, that's totally not the case why would you say that

Anyways, have fun writing this, I'm curious to see another person's version of this trope (you don't have to if you don't want to)

(Also is this even a trope?)

-LT

Request #9

HECK YEAH LET'S GET SOME SOFT FLUFF UP IN HERE!! Also if it's not a trope then it should be.

The villain usually visited them more often than this. Usually of their own volition too - no care as to whether the hero had invited them in or not. But this time was different: this time the hero had reached out because they had barely seen the other all month and they were starting to get concerned that something was wrong.

Had they angered them somehow? God, the hero couldn't even properly remember their last conversation - had they said something?

However when the villain came to their door they seemed fine, showing no clear annoyance towards the hero whatsover. They strode in and made themself comfortable on the hero's couch almost immediately - pretty standard behaviour from them - and for a second the hero thought that everything was fine...

Until they sat down themself.

Until they sat down and the villain moved away from them.

It wasn't far. The villain shuffled to the left no more than a few centimetres and yet the small increase of space drove the hero crazy. Seriously, what had they done? They'd been so close last time they met up - so, so close - and the hero had thought that maybe...well maybe they were going to become something a little more but now here the villain was, purposefully putting distance between them, and--

Oh.

What if that was it? Perhaps the villain had figured out the hero's feelings and didn't feel the same way. Was that why they were avoiding them - because they didn't want the hero to pursue them like that?

The hero tried to hide their frown as they asked the villain if they wanted to watch something. The other gave a little dismissive shrug, simply saying that they didn't mind and so the hero just stuck something random on - trying to make the situation less awkward by filling the growing silence between them with sound.

Why couldn't the other just tell them upfront? Just say it straight to their face that they weren't interested without dropping out of existence - surely the hero deserved that at least. They were an adult, and not only that but a hero too: if they could handle getting their ass beat in a fight then they could deal with a little rejection. The villain didn't need to baby them or let them down slowly - if the answer was no then that was fine.

Out of the corner of their eye, the hero could have sworn they caught the other watching them, but when they turned to look the villain's gaze was fixated upon the screen. The hero continued to stare, a whirl of thoughts going through their head and eventually the villain turned back to them, seeming a little nervous at the sudden attention.

"Um, i-is something wrong?" they asked.

The hero's eyes narrowed a little. They wanted a straight answer and they wanted it now... but they also didn't want to just ask it outright. What if they were wrong? What if the hero was making the other's behaviour about themself when it wasn't about them at all? They needed an approach that was direct but also, well, not direct.

In front of them, the villain began to figdet and yet again the hero's attention was drawn to that slight distance between them - an idea forming in their mind.

"Can I stroke your hair?"

Direct but not direct. The hero had done this before: that one night when the villain was practically dead on their feet - not having slept in almost three days - and the hero was desperate to just find something to do, pacing up and down aimlessly until the other had appeared at their door. They'd both helped each other then and, with any luck, the hero could use a similar excuse now if worse came to worse.

They were met with silence.

The villain's eyes seemed to widen slightly, red tinting their cheeks as they then glanced about them as though they thought the hero might be addressing someone else. But they were the only two in the room. Who else could the villain possibly think they were addressing?

"O-Oh, um, sure," the villain said.

Well, that wasn't a flat out no, though it did seem like the villain was still very unwilling despite what they'd said. The hero watched as the other shifted to move closer, their movements awkward and rigid and when they finally lay their head in the hero's lap the other could have sworn the villain had turned to stone - their whole body seemed tense, their limbs locked into place; hell, the villain seemed to hardly be breathing.

"You...alright?" the hero asked. This was about them. It had to be.

The villain gave a small nod. "Yep - fine. Absolutely, d-definitely fine."

"Okay..."

The hero only hesitated a second longer before letting their hand fall to the villain's head, carding their fingers through soft hair. They started slow and light before steadily letting their motions grow more confident, and - to their great surprise - the villain suddenly melted beneath their touch, a small sigh escaping their lips as they finally seemed to relax.

Huh.

Well, now the hero was even more confused! So did this mean it wasn't about them then? Was the villain just stressed over somehting else entirely and had been trying to hide that from the hero, or was there still something they were missing here? Needless to say, the hero was getting some pretty mixed signals and the approach of 'direct but not direct' didn't seem to be working.

A few seconds passed and the hero eventually resigned themself to possible humiliation, saying their question openly.

"Villain, have... have you been avoiding me because you know I like you?"

A beat.

Beneath them the villain froze up again but when hero turned their gaze downwards the other's expression wasn't quite what they expected. It started off panicked before shifting into something more similar to confusion - their eyebrows pinching together as they tried to process the hero's words.

"What did you just ask me?" the villain said.

The hero flushed a little, losing their nerve. "I, er, I asked if you've been a-avoiding me because...because you know I, um, I like you?"

The villain's mouth opened and then closed again, some part of them clearly struggling to grasp onto what the hero was saying - though the hero didn't really know how they could make it any clearer.

"But, I--" the villain stopped. Took a breath. Tried again. "I thought you liked Other Hero."

"Other Hero?"

Okay, now the hero was the one who was confused. What the hell did the other hero have to do with any of this?

"I-I mean you just s-seemed so close lately. It was obvious - or, a-at least to me it was. You...you do like them, right?"

The hero frowned. "Well, yeah, as like a colleage?" they said uncertainly.

"Oh, I - oh...oh, I'm dumb," the villain said, cheeks a bright red as their gaze veered off to the side, looking completely perplexed.

For a moment, the hero still didn't understand. Then the other's meaning hit them. "Villain, were you avoiding me because you thought I didn't like you?"

The villain didn't respond, simply covered their face with their hands.

"Villain?"

"Nooooo," came the other's muffled reply.

The hero grinned, catching the villain's lie easily. "Villain, do you like me?"

The villain's hands lowered slightly to reveal their eyes - their gaze fixed upon the hero in a stubborn glare. "You're insufferable."

"That's not a no."

"It should be."

"But it's not."

The hero's hands moved to hold the villain's wrists, pulling gently until the villain finally resigned themself to their fate with a huff - letting their hands drop back down to their sides and showing their flushed cheeks plainly.

"I at least get to kiss you now, right?" the villain asked.

"Hm, I'm not sure," the hero teased. "It's a long way down, I don't know if I can bend low enough to--"

Suddenly the villain's arms were flung around their neck and they were being pulled down, the other meeting them halfway and sealing their lips with a kiss, aggressive at first and then strangely gentler - what started as a lot of teeth and tongue becoming soft presses that had the hero blushing almost as hard as the villain.

After that, the other would never so much as dream of trying to avoid them again.

[http-tokki]

｡ₓcharacters: Levi ackerman x reader ｡ₓcontent: modern-day AU! mental health mention! Age gap! (Legal, reader is in her mid/late 20's) ｡ₓsummary: just a few scenarios about Levi and you, the average university student supermarket worker ｡ₓword count: 1k ｡ₓa/n: NOT PROOFREAD! This is 100000% self-indulgent and tailored to a very niche market like everything I do here.

♡ Set in modern-day, you're in your final year of university, your PhD just a few months away, and to make ends meet, you have been employed at your local supermarket, which hasn't been too bad; there are certainly worse jobs, but there have been a few awkward encounters when it came to your partner.

The first was the first time Levi had come in to pick you up. Having just finished work and dressed in his usual business attire (suit pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Rolex glinting in the low light, silver band around his ring finger to match the one you had on a chain around your neck. Dark hair falling over his forehead despite Levi running his finger through it to tame it back. There he stood, in all his gorgeous glory, phone between his fingers as he dialed you once more only to get voicemail; again. The bright green shopping basket dangled off his arm, the small array of groceries shifting as he swapped legs. He needed to know if you needed or wanted anything, not seeing any point in hanging around doing nothing when you only had ten minutes left on your shift. After no contact yet again, Levi decided to flag down an employee in hopes they would fetch you for him. And they did just that, except without any idea about Levi's relationship with you; there was a bit of confusion as they called out to you.

"Your uncle is here looking for you." They called to you over the loud hum of the refrigerator fans.

Huh? Stepping out of the noisy room, you double-checked with your co-worker, repeating the word uncle, only for them to nod their head in confirmation. "Uhh, I don't think so. My uncle lives in another state" You shook your head. "Can you come out with me, in case it's some creep?"

They followed you as you exited the back dock, babbling about how "even if he is a creep, he's suuuuuuper attractive, so if you don't want to get in his van, I will."

"I don't think that being attractive makes it any less creepy. I mean, would you really want- Ohh, Levi."

As your boyfriend came into sight, all your worries disappeared, and instead, second-hand embarrassment filled your cheeks.

"Levi?" Your co-worker parroted, stopping even as you continued to walk.

Levi reached a hand out to you as you crossed the space, ring glinting and squeezing your heart. "Hi, sweetheart," he let a small smile slip. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer."

You slipped your hand into his, fingers twinning as you stepped into his embrace. "I was in the freezer; I don't get reception" looking down and clocking the basket, you raised a brow. "Shopping?"

"I needed shampoo and milk."

You pressed on your toes to give him a quick kiss hello before stepping back though your hands were entwined. "I've got ten more minutes, but I think we also need something for dinner and coffee pods."

"I already ordered Thai, but I'll get the coffee" Levi nodded his head towards the aisle and squeezed your hand before letting go.

"I'm guessing you're not her uncle," your co-worker spoke up from behind you. Their cheeks blazing red. "I'm so sorry."

"Uncle?" Levi laughed. "Most definitely not."

And so that is how word of your uber attractive older boyfriend made its way around the store.

♡ Work had been made aware of your mental health diagnosis and ongoing treatment and had been very accommodating until you needed a mental health day or two (though you rarely took them, always just showing up and crying in the bathroom every hour or so). Still, when you call in sick, unable to get out of bed to even eat, Levi always calls in for you. He's professional and direct, letting your boss know what's going on and how long you would be out (Levi honestly loves being able to do this, giving him pride in taking care of you and making your life easier on days when it isn't). Most of the time, work is somewhat understanding, passing on well wishes to you, but during your next shift with your boss, you notice some tension and hostility directed towards you. You had every right to take a day off, you had given them ample time to cover your shift, but it was as you were leaving for the day, having clocked off and almost walked out the door, that your boss stopped you.

"So, are you going to be here tomorrow?"

You stop, turning on your heels to face your boss. "Pardon?"

They shrug, folding their hands over their chest. "I'm just wondering since you called in sick yesterday and the day before. I need to know if I need to replace you."

You're floored. It wasn't as if you had done anything wrong. You had followed the procedure. "Ohh, no. I'll be here. I just needed a few days off to sort some stuff out."

"So you weren't actually sick?"

"No, I was. It was my mental health that needed sorting out. I-"

They cut you off. "Do you need time off because I can't have you doing this over and over again? It's very unprofessional. I need you to be reliable and having your boy-"

"Is there an issue?" Levi's smooth and calm voice interrupts your boss.

You jump a bit at the sudden interjection but calm as you feel Levi slide up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

"And you are?" Your boss flicks their eyes over Levi before settling back on you.

"I'm the boyfriend that calls in for her the three times she has been sick" there is calm anger in his tone, one you had only seen him use in business meetings. "So, is there an issue?"

Your boss backs down, arms unfolding at the apparent shift in power. "None at all" They turn on their heels before throwing out an annoyed "see you tomorrow, 7am."

Levi makes sure to drop you off and pick you up the next day, offering to come in and deal with your asshole of a boss, but you know that his form of deal with would be very different from yours, so you decline your loving, but every so scary boyfriend's offer.

[lxffy]

congrats on 200 bru‼️ lowkey been stalking your blog bc there aren’t many black one piece writers😭 but anyways may i request 25 with franky tyyy and congrats🙇🏾‍♀️‼️

❥ #25 — one last bottle

reader: gender neutral

word count: 403

notes: thank you sm! i feel you, there are not enough of us in the one piece fandom! fun fact tho: i don’t like cola /hj

yin’s 200 followers event !

With a book at hand and a refreshing Cola, you were sitting at the aquarium bar enjoying the short time you had alone. Luffy and a few others in the crew were wreaking havoc on the deck, but you decided you could use some time alone for once.

It wasn’t long before your needed break was interrupted, but luckily it was your long-time boyfriend.

“Oh, Y/n! So this is where you’ve been!” Franky exulted, his figure slowly entering through the hatchet. Warm salty air followed him, the smell of the sea filling up the room.

“Yup, you know the aquarium bar is one of my favorite places on the ship that you made,” you replied, a teasing smile forming on your lips.

“You flatter me, Y/n, but you can’t fool me. You took the last bottle of cola, didn’t you?” He asked, flipping up his sunglasses. He didn’t fail to notice the cola bottle sitting beside you.

Ah, you did. You side-eyed the almost empty bottle of cola beside you, before quickly glancing at Franky. He raised an eyebrow at your actions before quickly realizing the situation. Before he could react, you snatched the bottle in front of you and gulped it down, leaving Franky puzzled. Franky nearly laughed, your teasing nature always got the best of him.

While you were grinning with triumph, Franky slowly began walking towards you.

“Y/n, we could’ve shared it, ya’know?” He says, feigning disappointment.

“What if I didn’t want to?” You reply teasingly, crossing your arms assertively.

“Then I’m just gonna have to take it from you in another form,” Franky subtly hinted just before he hastily grabbed your arm, pulling you into a secure embrace. He was now sitting in your previous spot and had you completely under his gaze.

“Franky— what,” you faltered, unable to react to Frank’s actions. He had you straddled in his lap and your arms resting on his.

“Since you didn’t give me a sip, you’re just gonna have to give me a kiss.”

You smiled before leaning in to press a kiss against your lover's lips. His large hands were resting on your hips, returning your kiss ever so gently. Without a doubt, he could taste the cola on your lips; his sly tongue sending shivers down your spine. To your surprise, he pulled away first and left you silently begging for more.

“I’m suuuuuuper refreshed now.”