#mmm cloud theory

[slyzia]

Waves of clouds

“Hey Red, do you believe in earthquake clouds? They say when clouds form into wave like forms it signifies a great earthquake is coming.” He balanced himself onto the beams, looking to the skies. “I mean, do you believe something significant is going to happen soon?”

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday lovely fandom. Lots to love about this one. Their opening scene is *chefs kiss* Some good Metro Tim. Really good Tim SL in general. Love this episode it’s fantastic for a lot of reasons. Let us begin shall we?

5x19 A Hole in the World.

We start off with some domestic Chenford and I’m here for it. Gimme. Lucy is studying in what looks to be one of Tim’s shirts. *squee* Pen in her bun looking all kinds of adorable. Tim stumbles out of her bedroom looking dead on his feet. Lucy having coffee ready for her sleepy boyfriend is everything. Her soft voice and excited features when she sees him is so precious. Gah she loves this man.

Ecstatic she gets to see him before work. Spend a little time together. She asks when he got in? Tim replying depends on what day it is? Ha Poor tired Tim. Lucy shooting back 'That bad huh?' Tim saying he’s eighty percent sure it’s Thursday LOL Lucy crushing his dreams telling him it’s Tuesday….His face is too funny. Poor man needs a day off in bed and snuggle time with his wife.

Lucy asks him what he was working on last night? I just love the whole feel in this scene. Him waking up all sleepy. Lucy is there happy to greet him. Little banter. Asking about what he’s working on. Married vibes in this moment. Lucy saying she stayed up incase she would catch him. Hoping the guy would turn himself in. Risking losing sleep to see her man. My Heart.

Tim says he did show up though. Showing her his battle scar. I saw a great parallel about this moment. That in past she had to ask if he was ok. Now he just shares it with her. She doesn't have to wonder. *happy sigh* Then we get the most glorious thing of all she calls him ‘Babe.’ Which I absolutely love. I think it’s so fitting for her to call him this. Unpopular opinion alert. I hate ‘baby.’ I legit cringe when I see it in a fic. Will straight bounce if it’s used to death as well. Just doesn’t seem like them IMO.

Babe seems much more fitting. Until I hear that word come out of either of their mouths. (Not counting Dim/Juicy) I can’t accept it as canon in my brain. Anyways that rant is over ha I love the concern and the way she softly touches his wound. Wanting to fix it for him. Can we talk about the tight fitting tank top and scruff? My god this man is trying to kill me. Sleepy scruffy Tim in his jams is welcome anytime. Give me more tank top Tim as well while we're at it. Loving that he has a hoodie there when he wakes up.

Which lends credence to my drawer theory. Man is keeping clothes there. I’m melting from all of these things at once. This is a fantastic opening scene for them. I love the way he shows her his wound first thing. Wanting her to make it better. The softest of humans around his girl. The way she gently touches it has me reeling. You know part of him showed her so she’d love on him a bit. Lucy jumped all over that and a sweet pet name to boot. I’m in heaven.

Lucy mentioning it was confident of this guy to try and take on 5 metro officers. I'm losing my mind over how once Tim is seated he’s not close enough for her. So Lucy pulls him even closer. Personal space wasn’t a word they knew before they were together. It’s non existent now that they are. Lucy lights up like a Christmas tree once he’s in front of her. Look at her above. Best thing to happen to her morning is him being there.

That line from 2x05 'They look so happy. I want that.' Now she has it and it looks good on her. Tim’s content ‘Mmm' and head tilt has me melting after she pulls him closer. His sweet gone for her smile and rubbing her arm. I'm a puddle. He is just as happy to be near her. Literally so content to share a quiet morning with his girl *internal screaming* They’re so adorable they might kill me. I’ll be writing the remaining reviews from the great beyond. So damn soft I’m on a cloud.

Once Tim is able to tear himself from her loving gaze he sees she’s studying. Genuinely confused asking what this is all is? I love her playful hit. Thinking he's pulling her leg. Tim is so baffled by this. She reminds him she’s studying for the detectives exam. Then questioning if she told him. I mean she might’ve but the man is sleep deprived and doesn’t know what day it is so...LOL

Tim replying he doesn’t think so? Lucy explaining why she’s going for it. Tim asking if she got the tap? Lucy is beaming when she tells him Harper and Lopez are backing her. (Of course they are. They know what a BAMF she is) Lucy looks so excited to share this news with him. Look at how proud he is of her. Exuding from that sexy smile of his. These are the moments where he’s that big softy for her.

Look at this love struck man. So proud of her he can’t stand it. Lucy starting with a little bit of self doubt. Saying with skepticism all she has to do is score in the top 12. Tim cuts her off before she can doubt herself any further. Saying she will. He knows how good of a test taker she is. Also how incredibly intelligent she is. He is her biggest fan and makes my heart so happy. Something that hasn’t changed from friends to more. Tim’s unwavering faith she will be amazing. No doubt in his mind about her crushing this.

From day one all he’s wanted is for her to succeed. To have an amazing career. Such the supportive husband not letting her doubt herself at all. I love her ‘Mmm’ as she leans in for their kiss. Heart eyes galore for him. Knowing that’s what he’s doing fo her. Her smile before she goes in for their kiss. *dreamy sigh* Always needing more than one kiss so they sneak in a second one. Forever love that. Such a great shot of a really cute morning kiss.

I adore the look on his face when he pulls back. That whole she fell first he fell harder resonating here in that look. The sweet rubbing of her arm getting me in feels as well. Can't keep his hands off her. Tim saying they better get used to not seeing each other then. Lucy adding in sadly yes. Between his hours and detective hours it'll be harder. Can see the sadness wash over her. Just as devastated by this idea as she was at the end of 5x12. Hating the idea of being apart from him so much. I do love Tim’s confidence it’ll be ok though.

Reminds me of Lucy’s in 5x12 and her talk with Tamara. Saying how they’d figure it out and they did. Little rocky but they did. This is a new obstacle for them to overcome is all. I love his wink at her when he tells her they’ll figure it out. It is fun to see their dynamic shift a little bit. Lucy being worried they’ll see less of each other. The worry is etched on her face. Tim being the positive one blows me away. Knowing they got this. Now that doesn’t mean they don’t need to have a deeper convo about this.

They for sure do. But I adore the depth of change in this man. With Lucy by his side there isn’t much he isn’t willing to do to figure it out. What happens when you are truly and unconditionally loved. Lucy has brought out this entirely new side of him and I love it so very much. Also it’s good for them to have these issues to work through. It’ll be productive for them even if it hurts a little along the way. Why productive angst is the best. Hurts so good and all that.

Nothing I love more than watching Tim in Metro mode. Hot damn. Fair warning he makes me very feral in this section. I have no regrets. Grey has looped in Tim and his team to watch Joel. Surveil him since he is a huge person of interest. Something about the the way he commands his team. Does things to me. Watching how he has plans in place.

Communicates everything so seamlessly. Just the complete control he has over this OP got me all hot and bothered not gonna lie. This case is serious but I can’t ignore how much I love watching him in the field. Especially with Metro. Phew lord. So much certainty in his commands and decisions. Crossed my legs couple times watching him in action not gonna lie LOL

We haven’t really gotten to see him on a mission yet. Be apart of patrol's mission's yes. But run his own OP that is exclusively Metro that we get to see? Haven't gotten that. I loved being able to watch him in his new element. Making calls on the fly as the situation develops. Then we get to see how he reacts under massive pressure running a team. He is watching Joel and it's obvious he is trying to split his team up. Tim can see his play from a mile away. Tim decides last minute to split them up in case. His seasoned gut coming into play in this decision. He's such a damn boss in this portion. Fanning myself as I watch him run this OP.

If you can watch him in this portion and not be turned on by his boss leadership I'm shocked.... and you're probably lying to yourself. LMAO Man is making me very thirsty in this scene. Just watching him have absolute control over everything around him is incredibly attractive. I need some water. *phew* We watch the hard choices he has to make during this OP. Joel has taken a motorcycle and they’re chasing him.

It’s getting more dangerous the faster he goes to get away. One of his guys is in pursuit and says he can keep up with him. The issue is he's in a car and Joel is not. Tim lets him pursue Joel till it gets too risky. Joel is going 130 entering the free way on that motorcycle. Tim makes the call to pull the plug despite some protest from his guy. He does as Tim tells him to and backs off.

He can't ensure no collateral damage due to the pursuit. Can't have an innocent family possibly get hurt to do it. Having to let him go despite wanting to pursue him. We can see how having to make this call frustrates Tim. It was the right call but damn it sucks. Once again love watching him in the field. Imma need more Metro Tim OP's in s6 writers just an FYI.

We return to Lucy at the station. They were able to locate Joel at an abandoned house. The kid was saved and removed thankfully. Sadly Tim had to shoot Joel once they entered and located him. He died on the scene. Didn’t leave him any choice in the matter. The shakiness in Lucy’s voice kills me as she approaches Nyla. Needing her guidance in this moment. Very stressed Tim still isn't back from IA yet.

She’s so worried about Tim and her anxiety is coming off her in waves. Harper being the amazing human can see this. She is tells her it’s ok. Harper can see how unsettled Lucy is. So she tries to calm her with some logic. Telling her that these types of interviews with IA are very through. They take awhile. That Tim will be fine. Lucy still looks like she hasn’t taken a breath though. That she can't do that till he's in her sights.

Tim makes his way into the bullpen and Lucy looks on verge of tears for him. That pull to go towards him is innate. Harper stops her when she sees Lucy move towards him. Telling her to let him talk to Grey first. She loves him so much. The look in her eyes when she sees him and her eyes follow him across the room. Ugh. My heart. Worried girlfriend mode has been activated and she can’t turn it off. There is just so much love in her expression and intense worry. A deep need to automatically make this better for him.

We can see how much she is longing to be near him. Wants to wrap him up in her arms and erase his pain. You can feel the anxiety coursing through her as she watches him make his way to Grey’s office. No one worries and cares for Tim like Lucy does that’s for sure. Plus her empathy is absorbing it all as well. She’s hurting because he is and it’s killing her to be away from him. But she is good and heeds Nylas advice to let him go for now….

The scene in Grey’s office has me crying. Gah Eric damn you and your amazing acting. He is WRECKED. Absolutely wrecked. Barely keeping it together in front of Wade. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes. He’s so emotional right now and trying so very hard to keep it in check. I'm so glad that they had this scene. Touched on how traumatic this was for Tim. Wasn’t glossed over. This scene showing the impact it had on him. Not only did he take a life but it was another cop's. One who KNEW Tim would have to pull the trigger if he forced his hand. Joel took the cowards way out. Made Tim pay the price for his exit.

Grey can see how distraught he is. The tears in this man’s eyes are breaking me. If Lucy could see this he would be in her arms so quickly. But she isn’t. I'm so glad he saw Wade first he needed this. Was important for Grey to absolve him in this moment. To hear it from someone who was his mentor and superior at one time. Not that Lucy’s opinion or help isn’t valid or wouldn’t help him. It will. He just needed to hear it from Grey first. That what he did was the right thing.

It’s why Harper suggested he see him first. Before she does. Logically Tim knows all the things he’s telling him. But he’s an emotional time bomb right now. So Grey reminds him that he had no choice. That he was dangerous. Tim repeating ‘I know’ because he does. Doesn’t change how he’s feeling though. I love Wade asking if there’s anything he can do? Tim gives his longest answer telling him to let him get back to him. Such a good scene. Broke my heart but damn good.

We return to our lovely couple catching up in the hallway. What a glow up this is I have to say. Going from hiding to Lucy being on his arm in front of the whole bullpen. The PDA in front of the station got me all in my feels. My heart may implode from how happy this makes me. Love her linking arms with one hand and touching his arm with the other. His reply to her question is such growth for him.

Before when he was keyed up he would just be angry. Lash out at those around him or push his feelings down and pretend he was ok. The fact that he can say he’ll be okay is huge. Tells her this calmly too. What a change in him. I remember seeing good parallel for this. His answer to Nell in 1x12 deflecting 'Yeah' and his reply to Angela in 2x11 when he was upset raging out. That he was fine just needed to blow off steam. With Lucy he's honest and doesn't deflect or explode. How far we've come.

Makes a massive difference when you’re loved by the right person. Lucy tries to be super soft in her approach. It’s why she’s does the soft touch first. It disarms him and she can speak her anxiety. Let out all the advice she’s been dying to say since he got back. Wanting so badly to soothe his raging emotions. Tim cuts her off and says it’s not the first time for him. Being bristly at first because it is still a default mode for him. Grown a lot but still getting used to the love and support of this woman next to him.

Lucy doesn’t let it stop her from being extra soft with him. She looks like she just wants absorb all his pain. Her eyes screaming as much as she touches her hand to his heart. Telling him she just wants to be helpful. Desperate to absolve him of this. He immediately melts at her touch and reverts back to soft Tim. Especially with her motives being so damn pure and in favor of helping him heal. Two episodes in a row she soothes him with just a simple touch. God I love them.

Tim thanks her eternally grateful for this woman in front of him. That she loves him and cares enough to do so. Put him first even when he’s slightly bristly still. Just like before they were together she doesn’t care if he is. Her main objective is to take care of him. He rubs her arm in the same affectionate manner as he did in their morning scene. This sweet touch speaking volumes for him. He’s so used to doing this stuff alone. To not have someone to be there in the aftermath.

But having her there for him changes everything. That realization melting his bristly reply from earlier. Heart eyes for days the two of them. In front of the entire station and I can’t get over it. Lucy giving him massive ones in reply to his thank you. Wanting so much to just make it better for him. Feeling like she isn't doing enough to help him though this. It's the way her body sags in that third gif. Wishing there was more she could do for him.

Tim needing the distraction from his emotions asking if she needs help? We watch Lucy melt like a puddle in front of him in the second gif. Loving him asking her if she needs it. Because despite the distraction it provides he genuinely wants to help her. Then we get a glorious call back to 2x02. Him basically recognizing all she did for him then in this moment. Knowing he wouldn’t be a sergeant without her. Without the books she recorded for him. Helping him study etc. Getting verbal recognition all these years later from him.

I too am a puddle Lucy. Not only recognizing her for what she did but telling her he wouldn’t have gotten score he did without her. (He really wouldn't have...) It’s here we see the scene go from serious to flirty as hell. Lucy touching his chest once again with her finger. Saying that’s true he owes her. Lucy seems so excited by this idea. Ready to cash in this long owed debt of his. Tim is smiling when she pokes him. Not an agitated bone in that man's body over this.

Tim is sassy af in his reply. Telling her he doesn’t owe her. Even though he was just a marshmallow and admitted as such moments ago... The flirty way she grabs his jacket. Oh my lord. The look in her eye as she walks away. Eyeing his lips and pulling on his jacket. Sweet lord this man is powerless before her. He knows it. Doesn’t fight her very long just says ‘Okay’ and goes after his girl. Never seen a man be so happy to be whipped in my life.

He is so ok that she runs this relationship for most part. We all know he actually loves this. Assertive Lucy is one of his favorites. Look at Lucy giving the orders and Tim following her lead no question. How times have changed folks. Broke his brain once again and all he can do is be in awe and follow after her. Such a goner for her and he’s very happy with this setup.

Follows her like a lost puppy out the door. Only Lucy could bring him back from the brink like this. Go from being upset and in his head to chasing after her. I love the amount of flirty sex talk these to have without ever really saying so. It’s amazing. Lucy definitely is owed a debt my god. He’s the one who passed the test but not without her help. Just like in 4x18 a debt is owed sir LOL Damn I love these two so very much it’s insane. S5 was a glorious gift. Kept on giving. Also if you’re needing a post 5x19 fic. D wrote an excellent one I highly recommend.

~~~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Lucy is so excited when she runs up to Harper at the station. Ready to sign up for the detectives exams. Telling Nyla she’s ready for this test. Harper is beaming saying she has no doubt. Then Smitty comes up and ruins everything. Saying one of the defective have out it out for her. We knew the 5 player trade could bite her… and it looks like it has Primm found out and isn’t happy about it. Be interesting to see how this will develop on s6.

Aaron’s face when Lucy calls herself one of the cool kids LOL hey man she is... haha

This Ep is Sooo good reminds me why I love this show as a whole. So emotional with Celina’s SL. Makes me cry thinking about my niece and nephew. There would be scorched earth for whoever got between me and them. This was the ep really made me love Celina. I wasn’t sure at first but this changed that. Her forgiving her mom is huge. Makes me cry.

I love Lucy being a BAMF with that offender. Putting him right in his own place when he gets defensive about it being harassment. Never be over how she's come into her own as a cop.

Angela looking up air tagging her kids LOL love her I really do haha

Thank you to my amazing readers who like, comment (love these) and reblogs. You are the reason I do what I do. I shall see you all in 5x20 :)

[unknown-lifeform]

💕 with whoever your favorite ship with cloud is. Or whatever pairing you want to write tbh

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

Cloud tried not to make noise as he got out of bed. The alarm on the bedside table said it was 03:46 in the morning. There was no reason for him to be awake at this time, and yet he was, and he didn't like it.

He pushed the sheets off. After failing to fall asleep again for a while, he had decided he might as well go to the bathroom and have a snack. Maybe filling his stomach with chips would help knock him out faster. Or maybe not, but it would still involve chips.

In theory, Cloud should be able to get around in the dark easily. His eyesight was good enough, and obviously he was familiar with his own room. What he hadn't considered was his boots scattered around the floor. Because yesterday evening he and Sephiroth hadn't really stopped to put everything back in its proper place.

Cloud tripped. His hands shot out, trying to grab on to something. What instead happened was his shin slammed straight into the bedpost.

"Shit!" Cloud hissed.

"Cloud?"

He hadn't meant to wake Sephiroth up. But of course he had, Sephiroth was all too good at picking up noise.

"It's nothing," Cloud said, bending down to rub his shin. Fuck that hurt. He had gotten stabbed, experimented on, everything that could go bad in his life, but furniture corners defeated him every time.

Rustling on the bed as Sephiroth crawled towards him. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, just the bedframe trying to kill me."

Cloud sat down, and immediately after felt Sephiroth's body against his back. "Any injuries?"

"Just hit my shin."

"Mmm. Lay back down."

"I'm not feeling like sleeping."

"Lay down," Sephiroth insisted.

Well, fine. Guess that was two of them awake in bed now. Cloud laid down, although Sephiroth didn't. Given he was looking up at shining mako eyes, he guessed Sephiroth was sitting up.

One hand landed on his leg. "This shin?"

"That's my knee, actually."

Sephiroth pinched his thigh. "Smartass."

Fingers ran down along Cloud's leg. And then, green eyes lowered, and Cloud felt the brush of hair against his bare skin, and then lips pressing against the shin in question.

"Are you kissing the pain away?" Cloud asked, amused.

Sephiroth didn't reply. He kissed Cloud's leg again, and then his knee, and his thigh. Cloud wondered if Sephiroth had decided it was a perfect time to get frisky, but all he did was kiss Cloud's hip, and then moved up without considering any sensitive area.

"Sephiroth?" Cloud asked, feeling lips on his ribs.

Even if Cloud couldn't see his own chest in the dark, he knew Sephiroth had just kissed the scar marking the place where someone had once shoved a sword right through Cloud.

"Establishing only you are allowed to try and kill me?" Cloud asked, shifting. It always made him feel a bit weird, the attention given to his scar.

"Yes," Sephiroth said, nosing his sternum. "And since I've taken a break from that, no one else is."

"Just taken a break?"

"Keep leaving dirty dishes in the sink and I may make another attempt."

Sephiroth crawled up, and laid down next to Cloud, one arm around Cloud's waist. Cloud shifted, making himself comfortable against his chest.

"You ever think about how weird it is?" Cloud said. "That we ended up like this?"

"No."

"Because us going from you repeatedly ruining my life and me repeatedly killing you to us in bed together is just the most natural thing?"

"Yes."

Of course he said that. Honestly, it wasn't as if Cloud could argue in any way, the results were fairly obvious.

Sephiroth kissed the side of Cloud's head. "Go to sleep, Cloud."

"Can't."

Sephiroth snuggled closer. Cloud sighed. Guess he could close his eyes and see if the giant heating pad next to him could help.

[eridanidreams]

Snippet Sunday

tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour, @artemis-crimson, @genesisarclite and @constellation2330

This is my brain right now...

...and I've been writing in four different fics for three different fandoms. Today's snip is from The Passage of Distant Stars...

Cait braced herself before turning, knowing what she'd see. It still wasn't enough; Sam in one of his relaxed leans against the wall, looking devastatingly handsome in t-shirt and jeans damn near stopped the breath in her throat. "Comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmm. Like they were made for me." He eyed her up and down; she'd expected something of the sort, and managed not to outwardly react. "So tell me, you invite every Starborn that comes in here for dinner and a drink, or am I special?"

"Oh, you're special," Cait admitted, and took some small amusement in his well-hidden surprise. Well-hidden from anyone but her, that is. "And yes, I keep those in there for someone like you." She could smell the paprika now, mingled with the other scents, sharp and just this side of acrid. She grabbed the bowl of chicken and started adding it to the pan. "But I don't invite every person, Starborn or not, in for dinner. Most of them just want to go straight through. Others," she glanced at him as he came over to lean against the fridge, "I want to go straight through. There's usually a few, though. People I've known, one way or another. People who need a little reassurance before making the jump." The tomatoes followed the chicken and she gave the whole thing a vigorous stir, then set a timer.

"I'm in that first group, I suppose," he said, a little whimsically. "Damn, that smells good! What is it?"

"Paprika Hendl," she replied. "Cora ever make you read her Dracula?"

A fond expression crossed Sam's face. "Sure did. In more than one 'verse." He chuckled. "Her and those books."

Cait couldn't hold back a chuckle of her own. "In my universe, I gave it to her." She laughed a little more softly, caught by the memory. "Gave her every book I could find, just to see the smile on her face. It was like to drive her father crazy some days." She caught a shift in his emotions, like a cloud pulling its veil across the sun. She cast him a quick glance, and his smile had turned melancholy. "I'm—"

"Nah," he interrupted. "No need to apologize. That was my—Lila—in a nutshell." Wryly, "I've gotten used to looking at another me from the outside. In a weird sort of way, it's good to know I'm loved, even if it's at a remove." He looked like he was going to elaborate on that, but instead took a deep breath and nodded at the pan. "So what's that have to do with Dracula?"

She accepted his silent request to change the subject. "Ah, yeah. It's the meal Jonathan Harker has before he gets to Castle Dracula. Traditional Central European dish. Supposed to be served with slivovitz—that's a plum brandy—but I'm not much for hard alcohol, so we'll have to make do with wine."

"Works for me," he drawled. "So how come I've never heard of this—Paprika Hendl?"

"Now that's something interesting," Cait said, gesturing him to join her at the kitchen island. (Multiple jumps and she still could not understand why Sam always blocked the fridge when she was cooking.) "Before we jumped, Cora and I had a theory that we wouldn't see a lot of big changes in the universes we went through, at least not the first few times. The idea was that as we started out from our own universe, we'd go through some 'close' universes, where the differences that made them were pretty minimal."

"Right. The—uh—butterfly effect, I think Cora called it." Sam leaned on the island across from her, eyes bright with interest and a sharp-edged curiosity shivering around him.

"Right," she nodded. "We figured it would be hard to change the big events, the ones that had lots of decisions going into them and lots of consequences coming out of them. But small things, things that don't matter much in the long run, or only to a very few people—those we expected to see a wide variety in." She cracked an egg with a flourish. "Turns out, recipes are one of those small things. Someone remembers their grandmother's recipe book, another leaves theirs behind…" A second egg. "Once I figured that out, I started looking. Found this one three, maybe four jumps back." A third egg joined the others in the dimpled flour; she gave it enough of a stir to break up the yolks, then carefully poured in some water and stirred that in, as well. "I thought maybe I could share them across timelines. Restore a little of Terra's lost heritage where I went."

He stared at her in disbelief as she took a heavy spoon and started beating the egg-flour mixture. "Hell, you have got to be the least Starborn Starborn I've ever run into. Most Starborn I've run into don't have the time of day for history. Or the people around them."

"That's the problem," Cait said absently, feeling for that moment when the dumpling batter came together. "In their search for power, they've forgotten everything that makes them human. Unity asks for part of your humanity when you go through, to give to the universe you leave behind. If you don't restore what's left of yourself, what happens when you run out?"

Sam stared at her, mouth all but agape, for several long moments. "Jesus, you're dangerous," he finally said, sounding half-awed. "No wonder they all want you dead."

She lifted the spoon and watched a clump of batter fall back into the bowl. Just about ready. "They want me dead because I don't play their game." She gave him a sardonic look. "Don't tell me I should knuckle under to a psychopath and his enabler."

"Of course not!" he countered. "But the Hunter's bad enough news that I'd pick my fights with him real careful. I ain't going out there punching a—a—terrormorph in the nose, either!"

Cait couldn't suppress a smirk. "Oh, I don't know, some terrormorphs are downright friendly compared to the Hunter and his followers." She moved back to the stove and started dropping batter into boiling water.

"Okay," he said, voice reflecting his bemusement, "You are officially weird."

[ofthecaravel]

If Walls Could Talk

The second part to a Danny Wagner/Sam Kiszka oneshot cause I'm a damn dirty liar

Part 1

Summary: Jake and Josh are convinced Sam has a secret, so they rope Danny (the secret) into their investigation.

Tags: Brotherly plotting, goofs, minor steaminess towards the end

Words: 3k

A/N: Yeahhh I decided to expand on this idea. I got the idea of Jake and Josh getting involved and being goofuses and couldn't resist. And maybe I have plans for future installments...

~~~

Sam had been 21 for a month now, and something was horribly wrong.

“Alright, I want theories,” Josh said, throwing his bag on a chair as the door to Jake’s apartment slammed behind him and he collapsed on the couch. “Go.”

“Demonic possession,” Jake answered immediately, spinning in his computer chair to face his brother. “Ghost possession.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure,” Josh countered. “Haven’t seen his head spin yet.”

“Doesn’t mean it hasn’t.”

“So true, so true,” Josh muttered, wrinkling his nose in thought. “I was thinking cult indoctrination. We don’t know what he’s being taught at that fancy shmancy school of his. All old, prestigious universities have at least one underground society.”

“They’d be getting to him kind of late,” Jake pointed out. “If I wanted to rope someone into my cult, I’d get them when they were a freshman, not a senior.”

“A cult would explain the cheerfulness, though,” Josh argued, kicking his legs up against the wall, his curls grazing the carpet as he looked up at his twin’s upside down face. “What with the love bombing and all. He’s just so uncharacteristically…”

“Bubbly,” Jake finished for him, giving sarcastic jazz hands. “Bright and happy!”

“I’m so glad it’s not just me who noticed,” Josh said, recalling how his lunch with Sam just hours before had gone by without a single complaint about…well, anything. Usually, Sam had a list of gripes about his professors, his classmates, or his job in the chem lab that he’d go through. But this time, he had just cheerfully tucked into a big cranberry salad and babbled about the many petri dishes he was tending to for his capstone class. 

“We need to consider plain old hysteria,” Jake offered, thinking about how he had taken Sam and Danny out for brunch in the afternoon after the party and observed how the dark cloud that usually accompanied Sam’s hangovers had been noticeably absent. Now that he thought about it, Sam hadn’t seemed hungover at all. He had been practically bouncing out of the booth, giggling and bothering Danny every 3 seconds between bites of pancake. It wasn’t unusual for him to bug Danny, but it had been a little much even for him. Jake had even asked around to see if anybody at the party remembered giving Sam any kind of upper, but he had only been more confused to hear the overwhelming majority had barely even seen Sam that night. Putting pieces together, Jake suddenly sat upright and his eyebrows shot up.

“You don’t think he has a…?” Jake trailed off, Josh picking up what he was insinuating and clumsily climbing back onto the couch so he could see Jake face to face.

“A girlfriend?” Josh whispered, and Jake couldn’t help but let out a low whistle at the possibility. He crossed his legs and arms, his foot bouncing as they quietly pondered the thought. Sam wasn’t one to keep a girlfriend for more than a month. But he had always been a little perkier when he was dating someone, so it wasn’t out of the question.

“Do you think we’d know her?” 

“No way,” Josh said, shaking his head. “Probably one of the super smart nerd babes in one of his classes. I don’t think he’d ever get together with anybody outside of school. He likes girls with brains.”

“And heart,” Jake added. “He’s actually kind of a romantic when he’s not being entirely insufferable.”

“Ew.”

“I know.”

“This is so crazy,” Josh marveled. “Do you think he knows we know?”

“No way,” Jake laughed. “He definitely thinks he’s being subtle.”

“Sam is as subtle as a groan tube.”

“Amen to that,” Jake agreed, slapping his knees and getting to his feet. “I need a beer. Want one?”

“Let’s toast to Sammy and his little girlfriend!” Josh crowed, reaching a hand out and catching the can with shocking grace when Jake tossed it from the kitchen. 

“Cheers!” Jake cheered, clinking his can loudly against Josh’s with a celebratory whoop. “You know who we should ask about this?”

“Oh yeah!” Josh hummed through a sip. “That’s a great idea.”

“If anyone would know what’s going on-”

“It’s Danny.”

~~

“Would you happen to know why Josh is spam calling me?”

Danny was laying on his bed with Sam sprawled over top of him, his cheek resting on his chest while they watched a show on his terrible, small TV. This was a new routine of theirs and it was quickly becoming one of his favorites. He selfishly wished that Sam would just stay with him in his crappy little apartment all day everyday just so Danny could devote as much time as possible to raking his fingers through his soft hair and blowing raspberries on the top of Sam’s head that made him squeal in outrage. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the show and his gorgeous best friend in his arms when his phone on the nightstand kept ringing repeatedly, the vibrations buzzing furiously on the wood like a fly in his ear. Everytime he checked, it was Josh’s contact photo flashing on the screen.

“Beats me,” Sam mumbled against Danny’s shirt. 

“Should I pick it up? He never calls me,” Danny worried, watching his phone start rattling a new round of his ringtone. “Maybe it’s serious.”

“Nah,” Sam drawled, smacking Danny’s hand so his phone fell back on the nightstand. “If it was serious, he’d call me first. More hair playing, please and thank you.”

“That might be the first time I’ve heard you say either of those words,” Danny teased and Sam harrumphed in protest, gently smacking Danny’s face next. “Hey!”

“You’re being a bad cuddler,” Sam whined, nuzzling his cheek more against Danny’s chest and fidgeting. Danny scoffed and smoothed Sam’s hair back, still hopelessly endeared by him even when he was being annoying.

“Then you can go find somebody else to lay on,” Danny leaned in and whispered in Sam’s ear, suddenly shifting and flipping onto his side, sending a screaming Sam flailing off of the bed and onto the floor while Danny scooped up his phone and answered it.

“Hi, Josh,” Danny answered cheerfully while Sam hurled obscenities from the floor. Danny peeked over the edge of the bed, sticking his tongue out when Sam threw him the middle finger with both hands. “What’s up?”

“Finally!” Josh sighed, his voice so loud that Danny had to hold the phone away from his ear. “I thought you were never going to pick up.”

“You couldn’t just text me?”

“Absolutely not,” Josh replied as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever heard. “This is a matter of the highest security and discretion.”

“Do tell,” Danny said casually while Sam, still on the ground, reached up, grabbed the pillow out from under Danny’s head, and half heartedly tried to smother him with it. “You have my full attention.”

“Jake’s here too, say hi Jake,” Josh said, and after a moment of rustling, Jake’s voice piped up. “Hi, Dan.”

“Hi, guys,” Danny replied, curiosity creeping into his tone. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

“We have a conspiracy theory,” Josh whispered into the phone, and he heard Jake making ghostly noises in the background. “And we need your help investigating it.”

“Okay?”

“You’re not with Sam right now, are you?”

Danny looked down at Sam on the floor, who had put the pillow under his own head and was scowling up at Danny, flipping him the middle finger yet again.

“Nope,” Danny answered, giving Sam a kissy face and flopping back onto the bed. “Why?”

“Do you know what he’s up to right now?”

“Uh,” Danny paused. “I think he just said he was busy today. Again, why?”

“Interesting,” Josh hummed. “Has he been vague about his whereabouts with you, too?”

“Sort of,” Danny stammered, rolling over and throwing Sam a concerned look, who gave him a questioning look back. “He’s been busy, that’s all I know. I mean, it’s the end of the semester so that’s not too shocking.”

“We think he might be seeing someone,” Josh proposed amusedly and Danny’s heart started racing anxiously. He sat straight up and did his best to make a shocked noise. 

“You think?” Danny squeaked. Sam sat up and gave him another confused look.

“For sure,” Jake answered, taking the phone from Josh. “Haven’t you noticed he’s been super weird lately? He’s been so cheery and downright merry. He’s usually miserable this time of year.”

“I guess he has been a little more upbeat lately,” Danny agreed, feeling a little warmth in his stomach. Did he really do that to Sam? Did he make him so happy that everyone around them could see it?

“But he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend to you?” Josh asked.

“Nope,” Danny answered truthfully. 

“Wow. I’m shocked he wouldn’t even tell you. He tells you everything.”

Sam was starting to get impatient and got up and scrambled onto the bed again, straddling Danny and making a move to grab the phone. 

“No!” Danny whispered, palming Sam’s face and holding him back while Sam struggled, whispering obscenities and swinging his arms. “Give me a second!”

“Are you talking about me?” Sam asked, his voice barely audible, both of them still respecting the rules of being on the phone even though both sides had gone silent. 

“Just be patient!” Danny hissed, pushing square against Sam’s chest and pinning him to the bed with one hand while he cradled the phone in the crook of his shoulder and brought it to his ear. “Sorry, Josh, what?”

“Ooh, do you have a guueesst over?” Josh whistled, no doubt wiggling his eyebrows while he said it. Jake wolf whistled in the background and Danny groaned.

“Shut up, you guys,” he complained. “Stay focused. What do you want me to do?”

“We just want you to poke around,” Josh explained as Danny tried to keep Sam quiet, who was still wiggling and grinning wickedly in Danny’s firm grip. “Ask him if he’s been hanging out with anybody.”

“Try and hang out with him as much as you can,” Jake added. “We’re trying to get a name out of this. We want socials we can stalk.”

“Wouldn’t you rather wait for him to bring it up?” Danny countered, making a “ssh!” face as Sam giggled under him. “Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t said anything.”

“No, we’d rather be nosy,” Josh said in a deadpan, and Danny heard Jake cackle in the background. “He clearly likes her enough to not mention her to us.”

“And that’s so much worse,” Jake continued. “So, are you up for it?”

“I suppose I could do some sleuthing,” Danny smiled, starting to become increasingly distracted by the color flushing in Sam’s face as Danny held him down. “I’ll get back to you with what I know as soon as I can, okay?”

“You’re a peach, Wagner,” Josh grinned through the receiver. “We knew we could count on you.”

“Give him hell, Swaggy!” Jake crowed, and Danny laughed.

“Love you guys, talk to you later!” Danny chirped hurriedly, cutting off Josh’s loud kissing noises by hanging up and tossing his phone onto the nightstand. 

“What did those hippies want?” Sam asked, running his fingers through Danny’s curls as Danny hovered over him, propping himself up on an elbow with a hand still firmly on Sam’s diaphragm. 

“They’re pretty sure you have a girlfriend,” Danny said, and Sam let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

“God, they’re the worst,” Sam laughed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t keep anything from them. They’re going to be poking their noses in my business until I’m 102.”

“And they want me to find out who she is,” Danny went on.

“Oh, man…” Sam sighed. 

“Is there any particular reason you haven’t told them yet?” Danny prodded, his thumb swiping soothingly, wrinkling the thin fabric of Sam’s shirt. “They think it’s some kind of a big deal.”

 Sam hesitated, watching the movement of Danny’s hand on his chest before covering it with his own.

“My brothers think everything is a big deal,” Sam muttered. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re going to be jazzed about it, they love you. I just…I don’t know.”

“No, I get it,” Danny replied, his stomach sinking a little bit. He knew Sam wasn’t embarrassed of him or anything, but…

“I’ll tell them soon,” Sam promised, flashing the doe eyes he knew made Danny melt. Danny’s face immediately softened and the jackrabbit panic in Sam’s chest calmed a little at the sight. “I swear. I know it’s important to you.”

“You’re pretty sweet sometimes, you know that?” Danny grinned, dipping his head to plant a kiss on Sam’s cheek, who chuckled at the contact. “Could be fun to play along for a little bit, too.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, nuzzling his nose against Danny’s. “You wanna do a big, dramatic reveal?”

“It’s probably the last thing they expect,” Danny pointed out, pausing to peck Sam lightly on the mouth, who chased after his lips with a frown when he pulled back just as quickly as he had struck. “Imagine the looks on their faces when I tell them I’ve done all this investigative work just to find out that Sam’s super secret girlfriend is none other than…wait for it…”

“Oh, let me guess!” Sam mocked in Josh’s parroting voice, arching an eyebrow and pretending to think deeply. “The Queen of England?”

“No, no, she’s too good for you!” Danny growled in Jake’s beloved yet atrocious fake British accent. “It’s gotta be…the lady giraffe at the zoo!”

“She’s a little short for my taste,” Sam teased, holding Danny’s hair up over his head and waving it as if caught in a wind. “I like ‘em tall.”

“How tall do you think I am?” Danny scoffed, straightening his arms so he was planking over Sam, his hair falling in a dark curtain that made the rest of the room fall away so the only thing he could see was Sam. And he certainly didn’t mind the view, especially when it was looking up at him with a light in his eyes that seemed to shine only for him.

“Not tall enough,” Sam smiled cheekily and Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

“Whatever.” Danny lowered himself again so that he was draped over Sam, the tips of their noses touching again. “I’m still your super secret special girlfriend.”

“You’re my super secret special dumbass,” Sam assured him with puckered lips, jutting his chin out in a lazy attempt to steal a kiss. “Come here.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Danny breathed, stopping Sam’s lips with his pointer finger, gingerly pressing the tip of his finger against the soft, pink flesh before tapping his nose. “And then I’ll think about it.”

“To be fair,” Sam retorted, biting at Danny’s finger when he pulled it back. “You never officially asked me.”

“I didn’t realize you were expecting a whole big thing.”

“I was expecting bread and circus. Doves and rose petals.”

“I confessed to you under the stars on your birthday, what more do you want from me? Sheesh. Picky, picky.”

“You’re the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had,” Sam declared. 

“I’ll take it!” Danny beamed, colliding the grin that was breaking out over his face into Sam, who accepted it with his own smile. Sam then drowned him in a long kiss, holding him close with his hands tangled comfortably in his curls and his legs slotted between Danny’s in a way that he had started to make a habit. 

In fact, since their night on the roof, Sam had found it extremely difficult to keep his hands off of his best friend. He had been into Danny for what felt like forever, so now that he had his chance to have him all to himself, he was doing everything in his power not to waste it. His brother’s suspicions made sense when he put into perspective just how often he had begun to ignore their texts or offers to hang out in favor of beelining to Danny’s apartment after school or work and staying for as long as he could before his next class. But how could he not? Danny was all over him too. A kiss on the roof had led to a locked door, shirts on the floor, and a few days recycling the same turtleneck until the marks that had bloomed under Danny’s teeth had faded. Not much had changed in that regard, except that now Danny had the restraint and wherewithal to leave bruises where they couldn’t be seen by curious coworkers or ridiculously nosy brothers. 

“Okay, fine,” Sam whined as Danny worked his shirt over his head and left a barrage of light kisses against the achingly sensitive skin on his neck. “Maybe you’re not the worst boyfriend in the world.”

“Gee, thanks,” Danny murmured against his skin, his tongue darting out and making Sam hum as he cradled Danny’s head against him. “Good to know I just need to get you worked up a little bit to be nicer to me.”

“Take me all the way and I’ll be more than nice,” Sam purred, flattening his hands against Danny’s back under his shirt and raking his nails down, making Danny groan into his neck.

“Kinda slutty of you,” Daniel chuckled, coming back up for air and gazing down at Sam with pink cheeks and the freckles on his nose so close that Sam was tempted to nip each and every one. 

“You love that about me,” Sam teased, smoothing his palms over Danny’s lower back and hips as he watched his eyelids flutter and the warm hazel of his eyes get swallowed up by his pupils.

“You have no idea,” Danny groaned lowly, descending on Sam hungrily.

If he was being tasked with keeping an eye on him, he figured he might as well make it both worth their while. 

~~

Taglist:  @s0livagant  @holdingup-fallingsky @t00turnttrauma @the-starcatcher @streamsofstardust @spark-my-nature @joshkiszkashusband

[spod3]

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVORITE TOYS:

it's like say don't go !!! i will listen to them together. i like it. he runs because he loves her !!! the layers. no one gets her like me.

DOWN BAD:

don't cry at the gym. get out of the 1950's gymnasium !!!

i think i found kaylor in this song. she mentions twins, which could be karlie. but she and joe also looked the same............. and then she mentions that she was left safe and [something] so that might reference karlie leaving her after lover [aka the fort she built them] gahhh idk. i'm sure someone can make a lovely theory out of this one.

SO LONG, LONDON:

goodness gracious ! my soul hath left my body !

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM:

mmm. i'm having this baby? no i'm not but you should've seen your faces? mmm.

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER:

if she went to prison and i went to prison we would meet and be friends :P

FLORIDA:

oh ! oh !! oh !!! they smell like little babies !!!! florence just started singing. my heart is beating so so fast.

GUILTY AS SIN:

upper thigh........ tasty, you sly fox. fatal fantasies? do you guys think she's referencing final fantasy and how sexy cloud is? i bet she is. who's name is she screaming !!! this woman. mmm. she made a lil bible reference. mmm. anyway. quite nice.

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME:

vigilante shit 2.0

I CAN FIX HIM [NO REALLY I CAN]:

tasty has a mommy kink, i just know it.

LOML:

the start is reminiscent of the alcott. i am eating diddle daddle ! hurrah !

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART:

my lips are sealed. i'm lumping it in with bejeweled.

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED:

diddle daddle is so gooddd.

THE ALCHEMY:

i don't like travis kelce. nothing personal. i just feel like he'd be mean to me in school and he's dating our woman.

CLARA BOW:

i'm just enjoying my purple powerade and thinking about listening to florida again.

[thebnha-auhoard]

Shaker Anon

YOU'VE GOT ME INVESTED NOW.

The art. The story telling. I crave more! What happened after! Does Kaminari get Electricity back?

you have something written for Izuku after?👀

Why thank you! And he might. Eventually. Not for a good while tho.

Anyways. I call this Rediscovery Of a Hoard.

Its kinda long!

Izuku Gasps awake. He slips into the kitchen for water and something with protein. He didn't know exactly why.

The recent encounter with Kasumi had left his Sensei and Kaminari shaken. And honestly. He was too. He hated Familiarity, and he hated the Implications.

He grabs some of the dinner's leftovers and silently watches it warm up.

He decides he needs a Familiar voice, he rings up his mother as he slid down by the Refrigerator.

"Hey mom"

"hey honey. What's up? You don't call this late usually."

"Events. Mom. Did I ever.... Seems weird to you as a Kid. Any weird behavior?"

"Well.... There were some, but they kinda passed after you were four."

"Can I know?"

"Of Course! You always loved warmth. And you sat way too close to the fireplace of my mother's. Scared me to death. Oh and your little Jewelry piles! Oh how you kept them so shiny, if you could keep it. You kept it."

"Mmm."

"Oh how Hisashi called you his little Dragonlet. Before he went missing he would hold you to his chest as you held his Fingers, what large hands he had compared to your tiny body.... He loved you so much"

Izuku hums. Dreading the answers

"Mom.... When did I stop?"

"Oh. Just before Katsuki got his Quirk. Why?"

"Research. Can't tell you yet. But thank you so much."

"Anything for you Izu. Get some sleep now"

So much for Sleep now. His heart pounds as he considers, it wasn't a Stretch unlike before.

His sight blurs as he hugs his knees.

He knew the Theories of Quirks affecting personality. For Nedzu's Sake! He Researched that himself! He hoarded Things. He knows that he was missing something, but it felt so much more literal.

"I had one. I had a Dragon Quirk. I felt it in Kasumi. I knew what she was going to do."

He paces. A strange itch to his neck and a pain in his bones edge his sleepy consciousness. The dull ache waking his mind more and more.

"I knew. And I was late" he growls. He grabs his phone and his jacket, needing fresh air.

Stepping out, he tries to calm his pounding heart and foggy mind.

Scratching his neck he sets off into a run under the moonlight. The pace of his feet sparking and flowing.

Missing, Null, Worthless, Quirkless. Words echo in his brain and tears flow as he goes faster.

He knows his eyes light up, he reaches that desperate ache of surpassing his limits. Black and green lightning arcing around his body like a warm embrace. One he clings to desperately.

Then he trips. He quickly rolls into a Tumble and lays on the ground. A sob escapes him, the itch worse and worse as he stares at the star filled sky.

Then the absolutely worst person to come at that time leans over him.

"What the fuck is going on Deku"

Great. Katsuki Bakugo.

"Go away"

"No"

Izuku stares and huffs, the itch getting worse. "Look. Bakugo-" a Flinch. Weird "- I am not okay and I just need you to leave me alone"

"No. Tell what the fuck is with you."

Izuku glares, a Perfect Mimicry of His Father. The lights casting his face in darkness.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I know what it's like to be Quirkless and I can't fucking say a word to one of my Friends! The fact that I POSSIBLY HAD A QUIRK AND IT WAS USED TO MAKE A NOMU. AND SHE TOOK KAMINARIS QUIRK!? AND ACCIDENTALLY GAVE IT TO LOUD CLOUD?!" AND I PHYSICALLY FELT IT. LIKE A FUCKIN' PHANTOM LIMB.

Izuku flares his hands as he stands up. It felt good getting his anger out, especially to his main tormentor. The ache in his bones slipped away.

"Or the fact I knew in an instinctive way. That she was grabbing. That she was going to Hoard it. That I could've had that and done that to someone."

Katsuki looks pale as a white rose Izuku notes. "I-"

"don't" Izuku warns, his voice low. That damned itch coming back. Word poison on his tongue as he steps forward

"Goddamnit Deku, get your head out of your ass and suck it up" Katsuki snips and immediately Izuku sees his hands flex and spark. Unwanted memories scratching his mind.

Izuku's face darkens. The morning fog licks their feet, maybe that's what should have tipped him off.

Izuku just screams "go away!" And his back explodes. Whips of Green and Black Energy tearing at the air as he screams in both anger, Pain and everything else. The ache in his bones exploding as the whips lash. Izuku's eyes widen, his hands shake as he tries to keep them from hurting his Childhood friend/Bully.

At one point Izuku screams and for a Split second… Katsuki was Afraid of him.

The way the Whips formed into a tangled Mimicry of a Dragons wings and the whips that flow out of his childhood friend's mouth like Dragons Breath.

suddenly Izuku can't see, cold water droplets soothing his sore eyes and itchy throat. And Katsuki runs from the terror that he saw in Izuku.

A gentle calloused hand grabs his own. He knew those hands. "Cloud Sensei. It hurts. Help me it hurts" Izuku begs. Cold clouds gather on his back, as Shirokumo slowly guides him in a silent breath exercise. Izuku practically collapsed against Shirokumo, tears dripping into his shirt.

Izuku would later ask how Shirokumo knew what he needed at that time.

A sad look passes over his Sensei, like a wound that couldn't heal.

"I was once in a similar spot-" a small smile. Storm clouds lick his face. Bringing up memories and a popular theory to Izuku's mind. "-May have ended up with a Quirk Awakening as well and I would have loved someone giving me a silent hand of help instead of me getting so bad….." Shirokumo trails off. And all Izuku could do was watch as he walked away. He silently wonders what layers are yet to be seen of his teacher and his cloudy past.

[wild-houseplant]

ZevWarden Week Day 4- AU

Well. WELL. It just so happens I’ve got like... 80k worth of futuristic AU material from one story I started bashing out ages ago. I’m publishing about 40k of that now, and since we all know I’m not capable of doing anything succinct, fair warning: it’s going to go on for bloody ages. All six chapters so far available on AO3 here. Content warnings for this chapter: passive suicidal remarks in the first chapter, unintentional weight loss. Other cws for later chapters on AO3.

Now, brief premise before I start the chapter: On 2170s Earth, a morally questionable blip in space where, thanks to unusual technological advances, fiction no longer exists and every Earth-born individual (in theory) has the right to summon one person to join them on the planet. In a moment of sympathy during her teenage years, Vin Amell illegally summoned Zevran. Ten years on, he’s arrived, and it’s on Vin to bypass the authorities and find a way to settle him in– if he’ll let her.

Chapter 1 of Your Personal Hero begins here, rest under the cut. Happy Day 4 of ZWW!

                                                            §§§

It’s a cracking afternoon.

The sun’s out, clouds at a minimum, and the air’s pleasantly warm. I’ve packed a basket with my favourite foods and drinks, and there’s the promise of consuming it with an uninterrupted view of the sea once I reach my vantage point at the top of the bluff. 

It should be enough. A Sunday on la Grande Jatte kept Georges Surat busy for two years. One little snapshot of a nice moment, and he spent two years on it. Two years! And artists, if the rumours are true, eke out an existence of grinding penury between commissions. Not usually the best conditions for kindling optimism. And yet somehow they sustain themselves on snippets of happiness, stretch them out a millionfold. God throws them a splinter, they call it a bone.

It might be enough for me, too. All these grim thoughts about hating life and wanting to die really aren't my cup of tea. When the big wins are hard to get to, though, and your little wins are getting thin on the ground, the pro- nonexistence arguments speak to one more. But then as Mam was wont to say, hope runs on the smell of an oily rag. We'll see about that.

When I'm halfway up the trail, off to my right I catch a pair of bronze, sinewy legs in leather boots sticking out from a patch of tall grass. I set the picnic basket down and jog over, clearing the grass away and sighing with relief upon seeing that the legs are attached to a body covered in leather armour. The owner of said body groans softly when my movement casts a shadow over his eyes. 

As I look at his face, I spot a pair of pointed ears and a wavy tattoo on one cheek, and my mouth falls open.

“I don’t believe this,” I murmur, before a loud, astonished laugh tumbles out of me. “I don’t fucking believe it!”

His eyes flutter open and dart up to me, and another groan ensues as he forces upright. I step on the grass nearby, flattening it under my feet as I squat down near him. 

“Wow!" I say. "You make more noise sitting up than most old people I know.” I don’t know what greeting people usually give their summoned person, but that probably isn’t one of the top 100. 

My wisecrack earns me a raised brow, and he scans me from top to toe before saying anything. 

“You are… not particularly well-dressed for a Blight,” he remarks before giving a hollow chuckle. “I am not complaining, of course. Do other mages show off as much skin as you do when the robes come off?”

I glance down at myself. I’m hardly what you'd call scantily clad; with my t-shirt and knee-high denim shorts, my outfit is quite a reasonable one. I’m even wearing shoes, which goes above and beyond the dress code in this town. 

“Not a mage, so I couldn’t say, I’m sorry,” I answer with a shrug. “So you just woke up, huh?” 

I cast my eyes over his face and ears. No bleeding, no leaking cerebrospinal fluid. He’s awake, talking, and moving. So far, so good.

He nods. “Mmm, so it seems. I took a hit to the head with a wooden shield. The Templar, where is he?” He looks behind me; I'm drawing on ten-year-old knowledge now but the whack must have been Alistair's doing.

I shake my head. “No Templars here. No Blights or mages or rogues, either.” I gesture at him. “Present company excepted, of course.���

The eyes watching me narrow just a little before his entire face becomes impenetrable. “So I have been kidnapped then, I take it.”

I frown and rub my chin, helplessly observing my dignity take its hat and coat and leave. “When you put it that way, I suppose you could say that, yes. Well, you’ve been abducted, at the very least.” 

This is met with a surprisingly accepting nod from my apparent hostage. “Well, I have presumably been kept alive for a purpose, so if you tell me what it is, perhaps I could be of more assistance to you.”

That sphinxlike expression of his falters a fraction when I struggle to find a response. 

“Oh. I… ah... “ I rub my neck. “I wasn’t working in conjunction with the Wardens. And I’m not really keeping you alive-- not that I’m planning to kill you!” I touch my hand to my forehead in exasperation. “Look, I doubt there’s anything I could say that you'll believe, so I’m trying to find a way to put all this to make it plausible.”

“You could try telling me something implausible,” he offers, all insouciance. “At this point, every minute I have is borrowed time until you change your mind and kill me.”

I huff a laugh, which takes him aback again. “Kill you? Oh, Zevran, no.” I shake my head, laughing again as his eyes widen at my use of his name. “I’m not interested in harming you, and I have no weapons on me. I’m the easiest prey you’ll come across bar none, but I trust that you won’t do anything. And if you prove me wrong, well,” I shrug. “It's been a shit time lately anyway.”

I've said too much, and Zevran says nothing at all. It's a hideously uncomfortable balance. Naturally, I continue. 

“Look, I know why you took the mission to kill the Grey Wardens,” I begin carefully, giving a sad nod as his body stiffens and his eyes narrow. “I won’t say her name, but I know what happened to her. Truly, I couldn’t be more sorry that you want to die, especially for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Zevran’s nose wrinkles into a soft snarl; he looks ready to cut my throat and then cut his own.

I hold up my hands to bring some calm back into things. “I would like, if I may, to make a suggestion.”

His face smooths out again somewhat, and the nod he gives is a reluctant one. 

“There are a number of things we could do," I say. "You could kill me. I could, unlikely as it is, kill you. We could kill each other, we could chuck it all and kill ourselves. Or,” I hold up a finger, a flicker of hope threatening to force a smile on me, “We could spite death and press on a little longer.” I shrug. “At this point, what do we have to lose? It could be fun.”

Another silence lingers between us, and sick of squatting, I let myself fall back onto my bum, crushing the dry, prickly grass under me. My legs become irritated immediately, and I start scratching at them. “Whatever you decide, I hope you’ll do it quickly, because I don’t want to carry out a life sentence itching to buggery while you make up your mind.”

I must look absolutely ridiculous, sitting here and scratching at my thighs like a monkey that fucked around and found out with a bag of itching powder, but Zevran devotes his attention to fingering the pommel of the small dagger he has now unsheathed from one of his boots. 

“My options are limited, my dear," he says offhandedly. “I have failed to kill the Warden, who is no doubt well on her way now with her merry band of misfits. My life is forfeit. Even if I somehow catch up to her and succeed the second time, I imagine the Crows will kill me on principle.”

“Oh, my, do I have news for you,” I say through a broad grin that makes him look at me like a crab just scuttled out of my nose. I shake the smile off upon realising how disturbing it must look. 

“Sorry. Ahem. There are no Crows here. You're not in Thedas any more. The only way any of the Crows can reach you is if they’re summoned, and no disrespect meant, but you’ll be very, very hard-pressed to find anyone here who’d consider it worth their while to summon even one of them. So in that regard, you’re clear of them.” I shrug. “Well, unless you decide to go back to Thedas, of course.”

For the first time, Zevran obviously examines his surroundings. “This… is not Thedas.” It sounds like both a statement and a question. Still clawing at my legs, I shake my head. 

“No, it’s not. This planet is called Earth.”

“... Earth,” he repeats, rolling the r and dragging out the th . “As in the dirt.”

“Mmm. Don’t blame me for the name, it was like that when I got here. Ugh, it's too itchy here. I need to get up.” On my feet again, I dust myself off and look down at him. “That’s not to say you’re entirely free of troubles here. The authorities don’t take kindly to people who've committed murder, even as part of a career they had no say in pursuing, and they’d see through any lies you tried to tell to cover it up. They wouldn’t kill you, though, probably just imprison you for some twenty, thirty years. I can help you evade them easily enough until you get settled here legally though.” I put out a hand to help him up. “No strings attached. What do you say?”

He nods and accepts the hand almost immediately, wincing a little as he stands up. “Then I am your man without reservation until such time as you choose to release me. This I swear.” He rattles that off like he’s said it a thousand times.

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not my man, and I meant it when I said no strings attached. I don’t own you. Ii just summoned you here, which is completely different. But look, before we get into that, I need you to try walking for me. I want to check if you sustained any injuries from that knock to the head. If you don’t mind, walk heel to toe, just a few steps.”

The abrupt change of subject appears to be accepted quite well, and Zevran complies with my request. 

“I do not know what this will achieve, my dear,” he says, looking rather amused as he steps carefully. “I move much faster when my feet aren’t touching.”

“I’m checking for damage to the brain. Try walking normally?”

He does, and his gait is smooth. So far, so good, but he'll need to be looked over properly.

“Good, thank you.” I nod and walk over to him. “Well, I’d like to introduce myself, as an introduction is long overdue. Van is my name. Van Amell.”

“Amell, you say?” He squints at me. “You said you have no connection to the Warden, and yet she was an Amell.”

“I didn’t say that,” I point out. “I said I wasn’t working with her, or the Wardens, which is true. I’m a doctor… uh, physician, you might’ve called them. The only thing she and I have in common is the last name, and in fact, our shared surname is the only way I managed to make contact with you at all.” I gesture back down the dirt road. “Walk with me? My house is down this hill.”

He nods and falls into a step matching mine as soon as I move, and I swipe up the picnic basket on the way.

“This… realm, I s'pose you could call it, there’s no magic in it. Strictly speaking. It's all down to luck and science for us. Until recently, anyway.”

He says nothing, merely keeps his eyes on me. You can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. 

“We had a breakthrough about fifty, sixty years ago in the physical sciences and… ah…” what would you call IT in medieval English? “Intelligent machines. Machines that can think and follow commands. There’s a theory that when this world, and the system in which it exists, called the universe, was made, it started with an enormous explosion. And because the universe is infinitely large, it continues to explode outwards, and other small bubbles like the one we live in here are being formed, with completely different conditions to our own life here." 

I catch myself starting to gesture as I talk, and I’m too excited to curate it. It’s incredible to think that paying attention in high school Modern History class has paid off like this. “The breakthrough came when the theory was taken a step further, that anything could exist, because if the universe is infinitely large, there is an infinite number of different universes, like the one you were born in. And that when we made works of AU-- Alternate Universe, the word fiction is no longer used,” I explain hastily, “it was no longer just a story. We're given a concrete outline of another world.”

“And the second breakthrough?” Zevran’s face is impassive, but his eyes are glued to me. 

“Well, around the same time, people studying intelligent machines had refined portals-- doorways you can walk through that take you to somewhere else. You could step through a door in… what was the name of your country, Antiqua--”

“Antiva,” he suddenly corrects me, and looks surprised to have done it.

“Right, sorry. In Antiva, and if you stepped through the portal you could end up, say, in the Korcari Wilds. Depends on where you told the portal to go. What they found was that having a sufficiently-constructed alternate universe gave the portals enough information to find the places we had in our stories!” 

I clutch my hand into a fist, enthralled with how clever it all sounds. It fills me with pride, even though I hadn’t done anything to help its creation. 

“I did not walk through a portal to come here, though,” Zevran points out. “I was knocked unconscious, and then I woke up in the grass where you found me.”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting there,” I wave my hands. “In theory, the AU portals were a huge success. There was no need to research for knowledge any more. All we had to do was get writers to construct the worlds, we would give the information to the machine, and it would simply open it up and we’d get what we needed, maybe give something back if they had use of it.”

I shake my head. “What ended up happening was utter fucking chaos. People were leaving en masse or ducking through the portals and bringing back dragons, villains, dangerous people, races that weren’t built to survive in our conditions who died in terrible pain. Cities were crumbling, nations collapsing, all that shit. We weren’t ready for what it really meant. So what was left of the governments put a strict lockdown on the portals, hiding them everywhere and forbidding people from crossing them. The latest models are one-use portals that open up, drop you, and disappear. Now, you came through the portal because I invoked my Summoning right.”

“... Summoning right?” he echoes.

“Mmm, this is the bit where you come in,” I nod, sighing. It’s going to be quite awkward explaining this to him, and truly, I’m embarrassed enough now that I’d rather not. But he’s watching me so intently, and well, I’m responsible for dragging him out of Thedas. He at least deserves to know how that happened. 

“The world is crawling with stories, right?” I try.

Zevran nods slowly. “Mmm.”

“Yeah. Well, they made a rule that for everyone born on Earth, you have permission to… uh… ‘summon’ one person from another to here.” I hold up one finger. “One person per lifetime, that’s it."

He squints at me, lips peeling apart as his mouth opens slightly, and my stomach turns. The silence is broken as he gives a scoff. “And I am to believe that of all the people you could have summoned, you chose me?”

I shrug, feeling incredibly awkward now. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? I mean, I’m not going to tell you what to believe. It’s happened, whether you believe it or not.”

He goes to speak again, and suspecting that he is about to ask why I chose him, I cut him off. “But you don’t have to be here, if you don’t want to. There's a centre close by for unwanted summons, and all you have to do is step back through the portal and you'll return to the last place you were in Thedas, no questions asked.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment. I can’t tell if he wants to go back but is trying to be polite, or if he doesn’t want to leave and is trying not to say anything. It has to be one of the two; he looks uncomfortable as he chews on his lip, fingers slowly tapping his thigh. 

“You don’t have to decide right away, of course,” I continue, almost at a babble now. “Normally, when someone sustains an injury bad enough to knock them out, it’s best to have a doctor do a proper examination.” I point at myself. “I can’t be the one to do it because I summoned you, but I have a colleague close by who can help.”

I’m given a polite nod and a quiet issue of thanks.

"We do need to get you out of this armour first, though," I muse as we reach the dirt road that leads back to my house. 

"Oh?" Zevran raises an eyebrow and gives me a wry smile. "Is having your way with me the cost for a check-over? I believe I can easily pay my way for that.”

His smile slips for a second as I turn my head sharply, but then re-establishes and consolidates with a visible firmness. 

"You look positively stricken , my dear," he croons. "If you have not summoned me for my services in that regard, I cannot imagine why else I would be here. Unless you have someone who needs assassinating?" 

I open my mouth, close it, and then open it again. That hit harder than I expected; is that really all he thinks he can offer?

I clear my throat, "Ah, no. No, I'm not looking to kill anyone, thanks. And no doctor worth their salt accepts sexual favours in exchange for medical attention. It's so unethical it makes my skin crawl." I shudder, rolling my shoulders back to dislodge the revulsion. 

But what is a perfectly reasonable response on my part appears very much not to be to Zevran, who regards me quite strangely now. Which I should have expected, but god, I haven't played Dragon Age for about ten years now. I cut myself a little slack so I have enough room in my head to press on. 

"No, we need to go back to my house and get you suitable clothes so you can blend in a little more." Granted, there's only so much 'blending in' one can do in a small town like this, but it'll have to do.

He accepts my explanation with a nod, and as we draw up to my small hardwood house, I point at it. "This is my place. Not particularly fancy or anything, but you're more than welcome to stay here with me while you make up your mind." 

I can hear the hope in my voice, and I don't think Zevran likes it. He raises an eyebrow at me, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. But he doesn't run, doesn't lunge for me. Just matches my pace, calm as you like.

"Maybe you could see your room first before you decide if you want to sleep there, hey?" 

I turn the handle and open the door, stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge door. "This is a box that keeps food cold so that it stays fresh for longer," I explain as I transfer everything out of the picnic basket. 

Zevran walks up beside me and peers in the fridge. The light catches his attention, and he touches it before withdrawing his fingers again. 

"The light is cold," he murmurs. His inquisitive glance at me turns his statement into a question. 

I nod; there will be a lot of this if he decides to stay, and though it doesn't trouble me, I do wonder how I’ll explain much of anything concisely. 

"We use electricity-- trained lightning-- instead of physical effort to power our machines."

His eyes widen for a moment, gaze dropping to his fingertips. "I was not struck, even though I came so close."

"No, the casing material- plastic, it's called, stops the electricity from escaping and harming us," I tap the plastic coating with my finger. "We have electricity passing through a thin strand of wire, and it heats it up hot enough to make it glow, and that is what you're seeing here." 

"Very clever," he murmurs, not even begrudgingly. 

"We have some very smart people in this world," I agree with a nod. I close the fridge. "Come on. Your room is up here."

I lead him down the hallway and up the stairs, very pleased that I had actually put in the effort to do up the guest room. It's about the same size as my own room, decked out with my most impressive finds from secondhand shops: a huge purple moon chair, a four-poster bed, an open bamboo wardrobe. Oh, and the centrepiece: a battered IKEA bookshelf. One that was lovingly redecorated, so Howie the shopkeeper had told me, by the donor’s toddler, who had snuck into the study armed with a handful of very colourful, very permanent markers. Absolutely none of the decor matches style-wise, but it all blends well enough in terms of the colour scheme. 

Exactly what Zevran thinks of the room is unclear to me as he steps in and surveys the interior. I have no desire to hover awkwardly while awaiting his decision, and so I excuse myself to go into my own room across the hall and collect some clothes for him. 

It seems rather more gallows than humour when I laugh to myself, thinking it fortunate that my appetite has all but disappeared these last months and shrunk me down like a sponge out of water. Clothes that were loose then and swim on me now should sit quite well on Zevran. 

I fish around in my drawers and pull out a dark green t-shirt and a pair of jeans I hope will conceal his leather boots; his feet are undoubtedly bigger than mine, so loaning shoes is not an option. A button-up shirt to throw over the top in case he wants to conceal any tattoos comes out as well, and before I can close the drawer, I hear his voice at the doorway. 

"Are you quite sure you put me in the spare bedroom, my dear?" 

I look up. Zevran fixes me with a smirk that doesn't match the suspicion in his tone, and my heart sinks in embarrassment. 

"Yes," I reply with a nod and an attempt at a droll smile. "I've lived here for a few years now. Took a while, but I eventually learned my way around my own dwelling. Yours is definitely the guest room."

He scoffs at my sarcasm and folds his arms, gesturing around my pathetically empty room with the least-concealed of his hands. 

"And my gracious host sleeps in a room whose only furniture is a mattress on the floor and a small commode." Another half-question, half-statement. It's frustrating when they're being used to prove a point I'm in no mood to acknowledge.

I shrug. "I put off redecorating because I wanted something to look forward to." That is an honest answer and the only one I’m willing to give when feeling so put on the spot. 

I get to my feet and hold out his clothes before he can wipe the bemused look off his face and ask anything more. "Here, put these on in your room and then we can go to the clinic." 

He raises an eyebrow at me, an awfully bold move for a man who thought I was going to murder him ten minutes prior, but then he takes the proffered garments and disappears again, closing the door behind him. 

"I'll wait for you downstairs," I say through the door before I make my way back down to the kitchen, taking out my phone to call Tamika, the resident neurologist at the town’s assisted living facility.

“Hey Van, what’s happening?”

I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I take some gauze from the first aid kit sitting on the microwave. “Tamika, hi. I’m sorry to bother you so late in the afternoon, but a good friend of mine’s taken a knock to the head and I’m a little too shaken up to check him out myself. Are you still at work?”

“Oh, wow! He conscious?”

“Yeah, up and moving, talks, no real outward signs of any issues. I just found him unconscious and neither of us know how long he was there for.”

“Mmm. I’m in town right now. I can assess him in your clinic?”

I sigh with relief. “That sounds great. We’re at mine right now, so we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” After thanking her again, I hang up and finish taping the gauze patch together. It should be long enough to cover Zevran’s facial tattoo so that he doesn’t stand out to any plain-clothes authorities. 

With the kitchen still to myself, I knock back half a glass of water before I stop and grab a spare glass, unsure of how to convince someone who deals with poisons on the reg how to accept a glass of water-- or any fluid at all, when it comes to that. 

A cleared throat announces that Zevran has entered the kitchen. He looks like a lean, athletic person in snug-fitting clothes. The button-up shirt helps to conceal his tattoos. It also helps him to look like the love child of a lumberjack and an early 2000s emo, but that's by the by at this point. In all, it's quite a suitable emergency outfit. 

I hold up the glass I got for him. "Are you thirsty? My house has plumbing, so you can get water from here." I indicate the kitchen taps, and when Zevran comes over to accept the glass, he momentarily squints at me. 

"Thank you," he says, politely taking the glass and easily turning the tap to fill it. 

I die inside. "You have taps in Antiva, don't you?"

He bites his lip, the lines around his eyes deepening, and he nods. 

"Marvellous." I rub my brows with the fingers of one hand. "Don't mind me, I'll just die internally over here." I take a couple of steps away.

Zevran gives me a brief, low chuckle that sounds halfway genuine. "Do try not to. I thought we were meant to visit your clinic?"

"Yes!" I seize the opportunity to shelve my hideous embarrassment and snatch up the gauze. “But here, quick, we need to get this on your face to cover up your tattoo.” 

I’m not sure doctor’s tape or any kind of adhesive backing is a thing where he’s from; I'd guess not from the way he runs his fingers back and forth over the smooth side of it once it’s on his face.

"All done," I say. "Now, if you decide to stay here, we can eat when we get back home, all right? If you'd rather stay somewhere else, we can buy food while we're out." 

"I doubt I would be able to pay my way for lodgings here," he replies, pointed but not unkind as we step out of the house and make our way to the car. 

I can't help but feel a little sad at that, but what was I expecting? Who on earth would he feel able to trust? Certainly not me. 

"Oh, that isn't a problem," I say with a small smile that I immediately drop when I realise it probably isn't helping. "I'm the one who brought you here, so it's on me to keep you comfortable. That's only fair. If you want to stay elsewhere, I can easily arrange it." 

We stop beside my car, and the silence grows heavy as I fish through my pocket for my phone to unlock the car. I mumble something about 'where is it' to try and take the edge off the awkwardness, and to my relief, Zevran speaks. 

"Normally, where assassins go and where they stay, such things are decided by others," he says in a tone that's far too off-handed for such a long pause. 

"This is a place where you can make that decision yourself. You're free to be your own person here. If you are happy to stay here on Earth, even if only for a while, I ask only that you let me stay in your life at least a little longer so that I can help you to settle in and navigate the basics of life here. After that, you don't ever have to speak to me again, if you don't want." 

Zevran appraises me carefully, and I try to keep my face as readable as possible. Whatever he's looking for in scanning my face, he either finds and is satisfied with, or he doesn't find it and accepts that there is no better answer to be had, because he gives an acquiescent shrug-nod combo.

“In which case, perhaps I could stay with you. It will save you money, and you will find I am quite a useful house guest. I can offer protection, chop wood, shine armour, warm your bed…” he flicks his eyebrows and fixes me with a winsome smile. 

I smile back and shake my head, having finally found my phone. “That’s kind of you, but unnecessary. Besides, I can almost guarantee you won’t have time to do any of that while you learn about how to get on in this place.”

Doubting his ability to do a handful of things at once seems not to be the way to thaw this man out, judging by the cynical look he’s fixing me with, but when I turn my phone’s screen on, Zevran’s eyes go straight onto it. An opportunist at heart, I seize the chance to distract him with both hands.

“This is called a phone. One of the intelligent machines I mentioned before. It has a lot of functions, one of which is allowing us to power and use our vehicle, known most commonly as a car,” I point at the car. I enter the pin code on my phone and let the camera scan my face. A small, bright tone ensues, and the sensor buttons on the side of the car light up, which has Zevran’s eyes darting from place to place like he’s at Wimbledon. 

“Press here to open the door,” I gesture at the green circle. He does, and jumps back as the door slides out and then up, exposing the interior of the car. I grin to myself as the impenetrability of his gaze slips, giving way to open, if cautious fascination.

“This vehicle,” he sticks his head inside and glances around, “where do you keep the horses to pull it? Or do you have other beasts?”

I go around to the other side and sit in the driver's seat. “No animals. I’m not very au fait about mechanics, but I think this thing runs on a combination of electricity, like the light you saw, and magnets.”

“... you do not know, and yet you use it?” Zevran's head is going everywhere as he perches on the edge of the seat, eyeing all the buttons and keeping his hands in his lap. “Where in this contraption is safe to touch?”

“All of it. This is very safe.” I make my nod extra confident. “You need to pull it apart to get to the electrical bits, and even then, the car is turned off--goes dormant-- so you can work with it safely.” 

His shoulders un-tense, and he shuffles back until he’s sitting properly. 

“We move fast, though, so you will need to strap yourself down,” I gesture at the seatbelt beside him and grab my own, slowly pulling it down and buckling it so he can replicate the motion. 

He squints a little. “... How fast?”

“Faster than a galloping horse, that’s for certain, but only if I ask it to. We shouldn’t go much faster than a gallop, though, and you’ll find this is much smoother, and safer, than any horse.”

The colour is draining from his face, but he nods and buckles his seatbelt all the same. Honestly, hats off to him for trying to take this all in his stride.

“Then we’re ready to go!” My mouth pulls in a genuine grin; I can’t remember the last time I smiled this widely and meant it. “Would you like to press the button to turn on the car? Everybody likes to press the button.”

[bunnywrites1414]

George Weasley

Hi Readers~

Tw- pet play, daddy kink, praise, i didn’t finish it bc I didn’t feel like it don’t come for me

When George walks through the door, his pretty little pup sits on her hunches paws holding the end of her tail. Her ears are a little crooked and her collar isn’t quite on right. But she tried, she looks so precious eyes blown and clouded with love and need, her hips are wiggling and , in consequence, her tail is wagging in her hands. “Daddy” the word is whimpered and his eyebrows raise. “Hello pup” he says and her reaction is instant, her whole body moves in excitement. But she’s a good girl and waits, not so patiently, at the end of the couch for him to shrug off his coat and slide out of his shoes before he plops down on the couch patting his lap “come ‘ere” he says his voice a little rough.

She leaps over the side of the couch and into his lap. Her legs strattling his and her paws resting on his chest as she kisses(a little violently) at his cheeks and lips. His hands fly from their position on his thighs and he catches her by the throat. “I know you’re excited pup but you do have to use your manners” he says and her head tilts down in guilt “mhm sorry daddy” she says and waits for him to let go of her throat. When he does she tucks herself up under his chin “missed you” she says and he rubs her back “missed you too pup” he mumbles against her head. His hands move and straighten out her ears and then reach down and correct the awkward position on her collar.

His hands trail from her shoulder blades down the curve of her spine. Pushing a little bit as he gets down to her hips he mumbles “move your hips for me puppy, grind against daddies cock will you?” His head lays back against the couch. “Daddy ok?” She says she filled with concern. “Fine puppy, just a little stressed. But you’ll be my good girl and help me right? Help daddy get off?” Her hips start to move as she nods “yeah can do that” her head nods a few times.

“Such a good puppy” he groans and helps her move against his crotch. “Feels s’good daddy” she pants into his throat. George chuckles and reaches up into her hair and grabs a fistful. “Too bad it isn’t for you mutt, be patient and you’ll get yours. Don’t be greedy” he grumbles and for the second time today she shrinks back into herself “m’ sorry daddy. Didn’t mean to be bad.” She says giving him the most pitiful, sorrowful eyes he’s ever seen. “It’s alright. Behave and make daddy feel good and I’ll help you when your done.” With a renewed energy her hips begin to move again pushing down into him.

“Stand up pup” he says and she seems to not even hear him her hips moving with vigor. And she looks so cute, he almost can’t bring himself to stop her. “Baby” he says grabbing ahold of her hips and her head shoots up “stand up let daddy take off the pants.” He says and she nearly falls crawling out of his lap as quickly as she could manage. “Good puppy” he says undoing the buckle and zipper on his pants. He barley gets the pants to his knees before she’s in his lap again. George doesn’t bother to correct her, the push against cock is so good.

George’s hands trail up from her knees to the top of her thigh highs, feeling the change from the socks to skin for a moments before bringing his hands up to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. “Mmm that feels so good pup. Little faster” he says and his hands push up and stop when he doesn’t feel the thin layer of cotton he’s expecting, but only more skin. To confirm his little theory he reaches out and tugs a little on her tail. Her hips stutter and she yelps “daddy!”. He brings his head up and smirks “you’re not wearing panties, and you prepped yourself without me?” He says and she shys away again, whining into the cold air of their living room. “I wanted to surprise you.” She says and his cock gets impossibly harder. “What a sweet puppy” he says and pulls her closer, and pulling her to kneel so he can free his cock from its cloth prison. He guides her hips down and she wiggles in excitement.

When he slides the first inch into her, she sighs and continues to wiggle in his hold. Her tail is bouncing behind her, and she sticks her tongue out and pants “s-so full daddy, you’re so big, can feel you pushing against my tail” She says as he bottoms out. She’s trembling against his chest and she whining. “Mmm such a good baby” he says and kisses her temple.

[mysmorgasbordoffantabulosa]

My opinion is that they are together.

First, when he made an insta he followed her. From his official account. People lost it, so he unfollowed. No one can deny that.

Second, this could be the first official dating announcement for bts. So Hybe and Tae are taking their time. For now, Armis are doing the work for them. More and more people are shipping them every day and the hate is slowing down. By the time they decide to go public officially or an undeniable proof surfaces, people would not care anymore. Plus, if it is true and the company lies about it, that would be a harder scandal to recover from imo. Also, I'm sure they are investing the hacking issue. Just because they are not informing fans about every step taken, it doesn't mean they are idly standing by.

Third, no one could find the original pics if they were edited. Some fans try, but it's clear they are real.

There is another theory too. They are friends and this is a purposeful distraction from something else. Some say she's dating someone who she wants to keep a secret etc etc. But that's a bit of a reach in my opinion.

Finally, I'm happy if Tae is happy. That's all I want. And they should be allowed to date and live notmal lives. Whatever the truth is, if anything good comes out of it, I hope it's the kpop fans realising how insane it is to make dating an issue. Especially bts- they are almost 30 ffs. This should absolutely not be as big of a deal as it became 🙄

Hello there, it's great that people can have difference of opinion and not get aggressive about it, so thank you for that. Regarding your points:

I think that's a possibility, but I think what's equally likely is Tae has two accounts, 1 public and 1 private, and he simply forgot to switch accounts and tried to make up some excuse.

2. I just don't think BigHit / HYBE would be this callous to drag one of it's the most popular members. If really, they'd probably acknowledge it in a passive-aggressive what that doesn't acknowledge, a bit like the whole Kim Garam bullying response. This has been going on since May and we supposedly we have potential criminal activity, so where are the police, the lawyers?

3. Originals... mmm... firstly, my understanding is with photoshop (or similar editing software), you can create completely realistic but fake photos using multiple sources and I think that's the case in most of this "leaked" photos. If someone had hacked Jennie/Tae's cloud/phone as some have suggested, as I said, it's a criminal matter and HYBE/YG would have called the police by now, which they haven't, HYBE has sued fans for booking seats on the same flight and cabin. This would lead me to several possibilities: 1. Tae/Jennie leaked the photos to gain traction (this wouldn't explain the clear editing in the photos, though); 2. A friend or staff member leaked them 3. Jennie/Tae posed for a few separate photos that were then edited together for a specific aim; someone the created pictures using body doubles and super-imposed Tae/Jennie's features onto them. Either way, there is some form or manipulations going on somewhere, and either the companies/artists are complicit in it and using it for some purpose, or they're not, and they don't comment on fake photos/stories, conjecture and rumours.

4. I think they could be friends/close acquaintances, and I would not be surprised to find Jennie is dating someone who's not a celebrity, and I know there's a rumour she is.

5. I agree, I want Tae (and all the members) to be happy and to be able to date in public with the person of their choosing. However, feel Korean K fans are not as forgiving as International fans when it comes to this sort of thing. Although, I think in about 5 / 10 years time we'll get more and more idols being open about their relationships (well the straight ones anyway) particularly after completing military service.

[elegyofthemoon]

idk if anyone's interested, but the section "A Shot from the Sky" from "Investigation of Ancient Pattern Rubbings from the Luofu":

One of the most common literature themes in Xianzhou is fire deification. In the era of the Flaming Catastrophe, a hero was sabotaged by the nobles and imprisoned. The hero later worked with Flint Emperor — the leader of the heliobi — and destroyed the Muldrasil, the wingweavers' lair, with a divine arrow. The hero's body dissipated, but it was not the end of his life. Instead, he ascended to become The Hunt, also known as the Reignbow Arbiter by the Xianzhou people. However, there is no factual evidence to show that the hero is Lan. Almost all theories that support this assertion are less-than-credible, given that they can all be traced back to a single origin, which is the "Ode to Reignbow Path." This is why the Alliance has not made its stance clear about this assertion, although it is widely circulated among the folks. Well... Although the Alliance has never denied the authenticity of the fire deification myth, we all know it is equal to a denial from the Alliance's standpoint.

The section (IV) in question from "Annotations from 'Ode to Reignbow Path'":

Brilliant stratagem needed for dire plight, the Reignbow roused out of necessity. [†2] Tell not the glorious to rest with their wine, but prays for the Heliobus to encase their entity. Tell not the warrior to rest in slumber, but with the Flint Emperor to assault our nemesis, without charity. [†3] Human lives are but a transient lightning. The fate of heroes never lies in their own hands, never with certainty. All the people rose to follow the Reignbow's example, daring to guard the sky and protect home and company.[†4]

Related editor's notes in the section:

[Editor's Notes] [†2] To repulse the invasion, the Xianzhou people decided to raise Reignbow from their slumber. Once awakened, the Reignbow analyzed the situation and concocted a strategy to break the deadlock. [†3] Reignbow ignored common advice, heading into the prison deep within the Xianzhou Zhuming and persuaded the imprisoned Heliobi leader, the Flint Emperor, to help the Xianzhou fight off the Denizens of Abundance. They made a deal and the Reignbow allowed the Flint Emperor to possess their physical body, in exchange for the power of the Heliobi. [†4] Inspired by the hero's sacrifice, many Xianzhou residents made the same heroic deal. They formed suicide squads and marched alongside the Heliobi. As clouds that cover the heavens, will the warriors protect the Xianzhou and soar eternal. This is the origin story of the name "Cloud Knights."

Is this important for Ruan Mei? mmm probably not lmao but I just thought the idea is interesting if you think about how these play now into folk tales and the idea of Ruan Mei getting raised on such stories before deciding to take godhood by the hand and learn to play god herself

wait actually ruan mei wanting to become an aeon brings back that questionable legend about how someone on the luofu became lan i need to go back amd look for it but its a thought.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

The Time Of The Season

A/N: Hey guys! I finally felt slightly good enough to post this and hopefully, it does this story some justice. The wedding is coming up and a surprise or two is in store before this whole craziness wraps up! All of the love from me to you and thank you for being patient with me!

Warnings: Fluff, smut, tw: slight somnophilia, tw: slight choking, tw: daddy kink, tw: breeding kink, tw: unprotected sex, creampies (because I'm so predictable), oral sex (F receiving), all kinds of warm fuzzies (because again I love these two), squirting

(PLEASE for the love of Satan let me know if I miss a tag or TW, I try to be so hyper-aware and I miss tags all the time, I am so sorry)

The light shone through the cream curtains once again in your soft bedroom. The rays of sunlight bathing the cotton sheets as you woke up to the sound of his breath panting on the back of your neck.

The baby hairs standing in goosebumps as the hot air ebbed and flowed over your soft skin. He stirred slightly, pulling you into him like a stuffed animal, forcing his morning wood to bury itself into the crevices of your asscheeks. You laughed slightly, eyes still shut, bathing in the morning sun as you listened to the morning sounds. The birds chirping, a lawnmower in the distance stirring, along with someone hammering something down the road. It was another lazy Sunday.

Flip didn't have work, and it was the only day out of the week you both truly had for the two of you together. And you both made the most out of it doing the simple tasks you loved of course, on top of planning a stressful wedding, to which you both shoved aside for this day and this day only.

It was perfect, the feeling of him tightening his grip on your waist as he began to stir awake as well. His gruff moan in between your shoulder blades hid his tired eyes to the morning sunlight. He pecked the skin with his lips, rubbing up and down your midsection as you melted into him.

“Good morning, cowboy,” you whispered, running a small hand through his bed head as he gruffed a reply back.

“Mornin’,” he rose from behind you, laying a head between your neck and shoulder as he pushed into your head massage, “how did you sleep honey?” he whispered back, kissing and licking on your earlobe.

“Mmm, so good,” you said with a slight gasp, feeling his big hand knead your naked tit, hearing his graveled voice moan in his throat as he felt your ass push back on his pelvis.

“Is my butterfly all wet?” he groaned, his cock stiffening even harder as he heard your pretty voice sing for him, “did I not do my job last night?” smiling as he trailed kisses down your neck, running his other hand to cup your cunt in his grip, your folds completely slicked with arousal.

“Jesus, honey,” he growled, inhaling your sweet floral scent as you moaned, your hips pushing into his digits as he circled your bud with his middle finger slow and steady.

“I’ll always need you, Phil,” his tip twitched hearing your gorgeously shrill voice whisper his name.

“Just say the words, Y/N, I’ll make ya feel good,” inching his cock in between your warm thighs, his eyes rolling back in his head from the touch of your supple skin on his aching member.

“Fuck me, cowboy,” gripping his cheek from behind in a searing kiss, his hips pushing his dick deep into you with a single thrust, the feeling causing the both of you to groan in pleasure as your tongues touched each other.

“So, fuckin’ good for me,” he grunted, picking up the pace as he gripped your hip in a fervor, “I love you so much, Y/N,” panting as he kissed up and down your neck, bathing your mewls for him.

“I-I love you m-most,” you gasped, his tip gliding over your walls in the most tantalizing of ways, causing you to grip at the sheets in bundles while your mouth fell open in absolute pleasure.

“T-that’s it butterfly,” he cooed, picking up his pace again, slightly, to rub even faster on that spot he came to know very well, “you cum all over this cock,” he growled, bringing his free hand to grip your throat.

Your eyes rolling back in your head as the oxygen supply was depleting. Your moans and writhing only spurring his ministrations faster as he rubbed the spot to stoke that fire to a full blaze.

The feeling was euphoric. Your release came over you in a cascade of sparkles behind your closed eyes. The waterfall began from your crown to your toes as it washed over you in a stimulated haze. His words and actions only prolonging the high as he felt your velvet cunt clench around him.

“Jesus f-fucking,” he punched in once more, the hot gravy releasing into your hole in a flood as he gritted his teeth, his head resting in between your neck still while you pet his matted hair.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, kissing him in bliss as you felt his cum coat your walls, the warmth from the sun no match as you reveled in his release.

“Mmm, I’m glad I could help,” he panted, kissing you again, this time more sweetly as your breaths timed downward, and the highs subsided slowly.

“What are we up to today honey?” gripping your ass cheek as he slid himself out of you, making sure to stuff the dribble back up where it belonged, loving the little moans you released as he did so.

“What we usually do,” stretching yourself out while he hovered over you, kissing every inch of exposed skin and whispering pretty little things as he did so. You gripped his face after the tenth kiss on your stomach, bringing his handsome features to strike your soul as you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

“I just love you,” whispering as he lowered himself to kiss you ever so softly, “so much,” your noses touching as your eyes closed in unison, taking each other in as best you could, his hands coming to rub your cheeks too.

“I love you the most,” he barely whispered, kissing you again, the feeling of his mustache tickling your upper lip in the best way.

“We should take the dogs to the market with us today,” he sat up, rubbing the side of his neck, his muscled back tensing as he groaned from the soreness.

“I think that’s a good idea, cowboy,” sitting up to bring your delicate hands to his shoulder blade, rubbing circles slow and steady as you felt him relax from your touch.

“Did you sleep on this wrong?” hearing him wince and moan as you rubbed the knot out from the muscle.

“Possibly,” he chuckled, “I’m just gettin’ old,” laughing out loud as he grunted up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to get the shower started for the two of you.

“Psh,” you threw the sheets off yourself, your naked form glowing in the sunlight with a warm glisten of sweat and beauty, “you’re anything but,” finding your way to the bathroom too.

_____________

Spring in Colorado was magical. The wildflowers were blooming everywhere you turned, the smell of the crisp mountain air, the slight bite in the wind as the clouds rolled by. It was all as if it had been in a storybook. And the city was booming with the end of Winter. Shops opened up their doors, restaurants had outdoor seating, and the most anticipated market had come back into the streets as farmers and salesmen alike showed off their wares and the people flocked from all over to get a taste of the local goods.

Flip and you loved to go on Sundays. The crowds were lesser as people were in church or doing something else for the day, and the produce was fresher and easier to spot than on any given Saturday. The flowers were also to die for; the array of colors cascaded in bright pinks, blues, indigos, and yellows all over the landscape.

The babies tagged along, clad in their sweaters to keep them warm in the breeze, and in booties to which Flip insisted as their feet needed to be protected from possible injury. They smelled the flowers, sat next to the booths with their daddy while mommy browsed through the picks of the day.

The deal always was to visit every booth regardless of a purchase or not. Your theory was that maybe you’d find something you didn’t even know you needed, to which Flip always rolled his eyes at being the bag carrier.

“Honey,” after the millionth booth it seemed, “the dogs are tired and I’m starving,” he almost whined, the babies sitting at his feet with their tongues hanging out, the bags everywhere as his hands got tired of carrying the loads.

You came out of the mecca of flowers, carrying several bouquets, “which one babe?” showing him the array you had in your arms.

“Butterfly,” he whined again, sighing as you waited for a response, “just pick one I don’t care which one it is... I just want a fucking hamburger,” watching you roll your eyes at his childlike attitude.

“Honey, please just tell me which one, I can’t decide between them,” begging him to answer with something as you were starving too.

“Fuck,” he grunted, adjusting himself so he could see them better, “I like those,” pointing at the bouquet with peonies all over them.

“I knew I loved you,” smiling ear to ear as he’d picked the exact one you wanted him to, skipping to the cashier to purchase the blooms.

He took the load to the car while you took the baby’s potty, making sure they were okay before deciding on a place to sit down and eat.

You both decided on a small bistro that had outdoor seating. A less popular one so you could sit and hear each other speak while letting the dogs lay under the chairs.

You both ordered drinks and skimmed over the menu items, settling on stuff to share rather than getting separate entrees. You loved the intimacy of having similar palates, reveling in the flavors together while you discussed details about the day, the week coming up, and just being in each other’s company.

Flip had been wound a little too tight lately. Well, he always was, but it had been elevated since this big murder case came across his desk. It was a string of them, all seemingly connected, but with no real evidence to link them together.

This frustrated him to no end, tracing back and forth on the same details, trying to find any sort of linkage, and coming up with only dead ends. The most aggravating part had to be that with every step forward in the case, there happened to always be another assault or murder stringing up to cloud the evidence in more confusion. It had to be coincidental, you kept telling him when he came home smelling of heavy cigarette smoke, there had to be a piece to this puzzle.

He always got his man. That was why he had been promoted to homicide. He was a good detective, looking through every shrivel of evidence until his eyes crossed. Not leaving any stone unturned. And if this killer was to be caught, he had to be the man to find him come Hell or high water.

But today wasn’t the day for that kind of talk. Today was the one day he found solace in being in reality. That reality, of course, being you and the life he had built out of nothing so suddenly.

He silently reveled in your musings, loving the sound of your voice as you spoke of wedding details and such. He still couldn't believe that this was his life. That you were here, changing it in all the best ways. Making it worth living and worth all the struggle it took him to get there.

He drowned in your laughter, your gestures, the way you sipped on your wine, the way the lights glimmered in your eyes and the sun shined on your skin. How the curves of your body hugged the dress you chose, the supple skin on your chest peeking from the fabric, how your eyelashes batted in the light, the way your hair flowed in the light breeze. You were mesmerizing. And you were all his… Forever.

The shimmer of that diamond on your finger stoked it all for him. The whole drama that had led up to that Godforsaken proposal. It made him shudder to his core. But in the end, it settled your lives into one. You had all the strings attached, and now they were falling into the culmination of the union. And hopefully more in the future.

He stared into your eyes, hoping and wishing that you’d want more after the vows had been said. Wanting to give you everything and more to make you the happiest forever. He never had pegged himself to be a hopeless romantic, throwing more caution to the wind as he settled night after lonely night in his bachelor pad, which had now been renovated to meet your needs on top of his.

He loved his life now. Never wanting any of it to change for the worse, and he was determined to make that perfect, even if everything else wasn’t.

“You okay honey?” gripping his free hand and rubbing the palm as you kept sipping your wine, “where’d you go?” your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you watched him snap out of his thoughts.

“Just lookin’,” He smiled, his dimples coming out to make your heart melt as he put both hands to clasp yours, bringing them to his lips to kiss the soft skin.

“Why are you so perfect?” you cooed, his smile lighting up the entire outdoors seemingly as his teeth showed.

“I’m not at all,” he laughed, rubbing your skin in his to warm your hand up from the sun setting chill.

You huffed a laugh, putting your free hand under your chin while you cocked your head to the side, melting at his preciousness.

He was your perfect match. The other half of your soul. The light and darkness, the Alpha to your Omega. And he was perfect… To you.

“You are,” whispering just above a breath, “you’re everything,” the tears threatening to spill as you reveled in the adoration from him.

“You’re my everything,” his voice matching yours as he leaned over the table, meeting your lips with his in the slightest of kisses, only to be broken by the faint whimper of Waddles.

“I think we need to get them home, honey,” he chuckled, looking at the exhausted pumpkins pawing at his boots.

“Agreed,” taking a huge swig while he gestured to the waiter for the bill.

____________

Flip had insisted on bringing every bag in, putting the contents away just how you liked them, taking the dogs out to go potty, and putting them in bed for the night, so you could get ready to relax. You tried to convince him that you could and were capable of helping, to no avail as his sternness only made it into a fight you knew you’d never win.

So you trudged upstairs, getting yourself all pampered for bed, wearing a silk slip, and putting your hair up in a messy bun while you lotioned yourself up for the evening.

You took down the sheets, the cotton feeling so soft and serene as you flipped on the salt lamp in the corner of the bedroom, making the ambiance calm and collected while you flipped some quiet music on to set the mood.

Time Of The Season softly wafted from the record player, settling you into the welcoming bed with your book while you waited for your man to slide in for the night.

You heard his heavy footsteps come up from the living room, revealing his exhausted frame as he sighed upon seeing you all ready for him.

“Are they okay?” putting your book down on your lap as you pat the side of the bed for him to lay on.

“Just fine honey,” he grunted, pulling his boots off and unbuttoning his flannel to reveal his rippling pectorals in the soft light of the bedroom.

“That’s pretty,” he huffed, seeing the slitted silky dress you’d chosen and how it contrasted with the white sheets, “I mean you look pretty in anything, but that’s…” he trailed off seeing you push your legs up and outward to reveal your bare cunt to his eyes.

“What now honey?” you moaned, snaking a finger to open up the dress more and play with your pussy in front of him.

He immediately got down to the foot of the bed, moving his head to meet within inches of your fingers, marveling at the delicate touches you made on your lips.

“So… Pretty,” eyes growing wide as he watched your hole suck your fingers, begging to be fucked by him.

“I’m so wet for you, cowboy,” shoving three fingers in as far as they could go, feeling his hot breath ghosting your thighs while he sucked hickeys on them.

“I bet those fingers aren’t big enough for you, huh, butterfly,” squeezing a huge bruise on your left inner leg, the feeling making your head fall back as he did so.

“Not even close,” you gasped, feeling his thick hand pull yours from its spot, your cunt grasping at nothing as he marveled at your hole.

“Didn’t think so,” smirking as he sucked your digits dry, moaning at the taste of you.

“Daddy will take care of you, honey,” he cooed, blowing some air on your aching clit to watch your legs shudder from the breeze.

“I’m gonna suck this cunt until your cryin’,” spreading your folds open as he latched his vacuum suction on your bud, the cry you let out reverberating on the walls of the room as your hand found the back of his head, shoving his face further into your supple cunt.

“Mhmm,” he moaned, the vibration from his throat causing you to audibly scream as he assaulted your pussy. His other hand finding your hole as it sucked two fingers in deliciously, the squelch of your cunt making his dick harder and harder as he kept going.

“P-Phil!” literally crying as he ate you out like the animal he was, the feral noises under your slip sending you in hoards of pleasure and euphoria as he sucked your clit fervently.

Your thighs twitched and shook as he kept going and going, the grip on his head tightening as he felt your walls close in on his fingers in the best way. The damn broke then, letting out a stream of cum from your cunt as you cried endlessly on his movements.

“P-Phil holy s-shi-!” his suction breaking to open his mouth to the stream of spend that coated his face so beautifully.

“I fuckin’ told ya I’d make ya cry,” he growled, pulling himself up to meet your face, “you taste so goddamn delicious,” kissing you so hard the spend dribbled down your throat too, sending you into another stimulated haze as he rubbed his tip with your gaping entrance.

“You want daddy to fuck you?” lining himself up to watch you beg for his cock, your pretty moans and eyes signaling how badly you wanted him inside you.

“O-oh f-fuck,” your mouth falling open again as he buried himself in your sweet pussy, the warm feeling coating his cock in the best way.

“God d-dammit h-honey,” he managed to grit out, speeding up his movements after he had hooked your legs to meet his chest, pushing them towards you in a pretzeled fashion as his large frame loomed over your sweat-stained bodies.

“You’re s-so fuckin’,” he strained, the muscles in his neck along with their veins protruding in the sexiest way as he shoved himself into your guts more and more.

“Use y-your words c-cowboy,” you managed to choke out, feeling your second release creep up the more he pounded into your open womb.

“T-tell me what you w-want,” grabbing his inky locks that had since become soaked, his muscles taut as he plummeted further into you, your bodies becoming one as he breathed heavily and grunted with every stroke.

“G-god I l-love you Y/N,” he said, making searing eye contact as he watched your gorgeous face conjure in absolute pleasure underneath him. He could live in this moment forever. Get lost in your perfect screams and moans for him. The way you gripped his arms to pull him even further into you as he fucked your insides raw. He loved this. He loved you like this.

“I-I love y-you P-Phil,” you managed the words, feeling your release hit you like a freight train. The warmth of his cock gliding over your walls completely overwhelming your senses. The stars blinking behind your eyes as you melted into his body, your limbs releasing just enough for him to push your legs to meet the rest of your body and the mattress below.

“F-fuck,” he grunted out, feeling your body convulse under him, his grip above the bed frame tightening as he split you completely in half, your velvet cunt fluttering around him as he came closer and closer.

“I-I’m gonna fuck a b-baby into you h-honey,” the feral groan escaping his lips going straight to your cunt as you opened your eyes again. Your big mountain man, completely falling apart over you in a sweat-covered pile of muscle and brawn.

“Y-you want that?” egging him on as you pulled him closer, your foreheads touching as he came so close.

“Mhmm f-fuck yes,” he moaned, feeling you pulse around him, loving how he mewled for you, “I-I want you so f-full of me by this time n-next year I-I won’t be able to t-take my h-hands off you,” gritting his teeth so hard at this point.

You cunt fluttering as the sinking feeling in your lower stomach came from his words. The thought of being the way he imagined, full of him, making you want it so much more than you’d ever thought before.

“What are you waiting for daddy?” you moaned, feeling his dick harden even more as he came to the edge, “knock me the fuck up,” voice above a whisper as you stared into his eyes, seeing his release as he dumped his hot seed into your core.

“M-mother of G-God,” trying not to break eye contact as he filled you with him, the hot spend feeling so good as it coated your fertile walls to the brim.

He held you both there for a few moments, spurts of cum exiting his tip as he watched your gorgeous face smile back at him, petting him and egging his release on and on.

“Such a good daddy,” whispering to him while he caught his breath, kissing your hands as his dick softened in your pussy.

“I was serious,” he looked back at you, feeling him slip out of you in a gush of spend, only to be plugged by two fingers as he sat back on shins.

He grabbed a pillow, forcing it under your hips while his digits still were lodged in your cunt.

“You’re gonna be knocked up by next year,” the smile on your face a clear indication of how you felt about the premonition.

“I can’t wait,” a low chuckle leaving his chest as he removed his fingers, lowering himself over you to kiss your perfect lips, caressing your side, and then circling over your stomach to the point of it slightly tickling.

“I can’t either butterfly,” he whispered on your lips, kissing you again and again.

_______________________

SPOILER ALERT: SARA IS A WHORE AND THIS IS GONNA GET WORSE LMAO...

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[teawaffles]

It Happened One Night: Chapter 4

Sure enough, the ground in front of the shed had not dried out just yet — it had been trampled into a right mess, probably by all the people who had rushed to the crime scene. In this state, it was impossible to distinguish a single person’s footprints. On top of that, their own footprints had already been left behind, their shoes smeared with mud.

For now, Sherlock gave up on examining the ground, and entered the shed.

One might’ve thought the interior would be covered in heaps of reference materials and discarded artworks, but the shed itself was tidy. There were several candles and a candlestick on the floor near the entrance. As Daldry had testified, there was an easel with a half-finished painting on it, and another easel that was empty. Other than that, the interior was bare. Another door stood in a corner of the room.

Unfortunately, the floor of the shed was also covered in muddy footprints, although it was to a smaller extent than the ground outside.

“It’s the same here too, huh. If no one else had come in, then any footprints would probably belong to the culprit — dammit, why’d they have to walk around as they pleased?”

“Sorry; if I’d been quicker to stop them from entering the crime scene…”

“Don’t worry about it, John. You did your best. Anyhow, what we should be looking at is this.”

Sherlock walked further into the room, stopping before the other door. It seemed like no one else had ventured this far in — there were no muddy footprints. Even so, John could see that there was a bit of dirt stuck to the floorboard before the door.

When they turned the doorknob, the door opened without a hitch. It led to the back of the shed: in any case, there wasn’t any reason for it to lead to another room.

From behind Sherlock, John spoke up.

“So it’s the back door. Then this shed has two entrances: one in front, and another at the back.”

Sherlock looked around outside the door.

“What’s more, this entrance is in a blind spot when seen from the inn. Also…… here, John, look.”

Sherlock took a step outside to make way for him.

There was also a patch of exposed ground behind the shed, and on the opposite side of it was a well-maintained cobblestone path. But what was surprising was that, leading from the path to the shed, was a single set of distinct footprints.

“Sherlock. These were clearly made after the ground turned soft from the rain. So this shows that during the party, someone broke into the shed from outside — it’s an important piece of evidence, isn’t it?”

John went on excitedly, but in contrast, Sherlock remained silent as he pondered over something.

John cocked his head in confusion.

“……What’s wrong? Unless, someone intentionally went around to the back once the theft was discovered?”

Sherlock dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“That’s not it. John, can you see what’s strange about these footprints?”

“Huh?”

Hearing that, John scrutinised the footprints that continued up to the stone path. Then, he realised what Sherlock was referring to.

“These tracks…… They lead into the shed, but there are no tracks leading out.”

Sherlock chewed his lip slightly, as if ruminating over John’s analysis.

The footprints went in a single direction, towards the shed. If one were to consider this straightforwardly, the intruder probably entered the shed via the back door, but didn’t leave via the same route.

“Maybe the thief entered from the back, stole the painting, then left through the front door?”

“A break-in wouldn’t necessarily correspond with the art theft, but…… even so, if the thief entered from the back door to stay out of sight, it doesn’t make sense for them to leave from the front, since they would be visible from the inn.”

“Maybe something happened, and they couldn’t leave from the back?”

“That’s one possibility…… hmm?”

Sherlock suddenly paused and crouched down, staring intently at the ground.

“What happened? Did you find something new?”

“Yeah, here.”

Sherlock pointed at the wet earth as he replied. Although it was faint, there was a set of footprints that indicated a round trip from the stone path to the shed and back.

“This is definitely another set of prints, and it indicates someone has entered and left. But it seems to have been washed out by the rain.”

John voiced his interpretation, and Sherlock agreed.

“Quite right: these were made before the party started.”

The painting had been stolen during the celebration at the inn, and it had been raining at the time. Therefore, these footprints, which appeared to have been left before the rain started, were not made by the thief when they stole the painting.

Possibly, that artist had used the back entrance on some other business. That was what John reckoned, but Sherlock sank deep into thought as he looked at the ground and the inside of the shed in turn.

Apart from the problem of identifying the suspect, there was also the mystery of the footprints at the back door. However, they still didn’t have enough information to solve the case.

After giving the shed a once-over, and confirming that there was no other useful evidence, the two men had resolved to head back to the inn, when they realised that Daldry had walked over to the shed as well.

“Mr Holmes, Dr Watson: the police have arrived.”

“I see,” replied Sherlock. “So, what have they been doing?”

“They started interviewing the people who remained in the building. Also, it seems they’re visiting the guests who had returned home, and are conducting voluntary house searches.”

When he heard that, Sherlock made a somewhat troubled expression.

“That saves us some trouble, but…… house searches, huh. I hope the police here don’t jump to conclusions.”

“It’ll surely be alright. And if push comes to shove, you could always just leave.”

John had placed his full trust in Sherlock, and the detective smiled wryly at that as they returned to the inn with Daldry.

Inside, several police officers had already split up to question the party guests.

Sherlock took a seat at the counter, and tried to casually eavesdrop on a nearby conversation, but its contents were no different from what they had heard earlier.

Then, after he’d finished giving the police his statement, Rheos jogged over to the two men.

“H-How was it, Mr Detective? Have you found the location of the painting?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“I’m afraid not — we haven’t found any decisive clues. It seems it’ll take a while longer.”

The young artist hung his head with a jolt.

Suddenly, something they saw earlier surfaced in Sherlock’s mind: the candles at his feet.

“Hey, can I ask you something? That shed — how do you illuminate it?”

Rheos looked up as he replied.

“When I’m there at night, I use candles.”

“I see. But candlelight alone wouldn’t be able to light up the whole room, now would it?”

As the detective predicted, the young man narrowed his eyes.

“……That’s true. But it’s enough for me to paint by.”

“That makes sense. Then of course, when Daldry entered the shed back then, it must’ve been lit with candles as well. And when you’d walked halfway to the shed, you realised that the painting was missing.”

“Pretty much, that’s what happened.”

“Right? But, if that was the case, then……”

The detective became absorbed into his own thoughts. The abrupt end to their conversation left Rheos understandably confused, and John gave him an awkward bow in apology. After which, clearly unsatisfied, Rheos walked away.

“Oi, Sherlock. What were you doing, abandoning the victim like that?”

“Mmm, ah, sorry. Something was bugging me…… I just can’t work out the mystery of those footprints.”

“The ‘one-way’ footprints, huh. About that, I have a few theories.”

“Hmm, let’s hear it then.”

Sherlock shot him an inviting smile, and John lowered his voice.

“Firstly, the culprit left those footprints as they entered the shed. Then after they stole the painting, they walked backwards, stepping into their original footprints to leave the scene.”

“Nope. First off, there’s no reason to do that. Moreover, if they walked backwards over their tracks, the way their weight shifted would've be different from if they walked forwards normally. As far as I could tell, those footprints were made by someone walking from the path to the shed, in that direction.”

Sherlock immediately shot down his idea, but John was undaunted.

“If so, then maybe they used a rope or something when they left the shed, so they wouldn’t leave any tracks.”

“That’s not it either. If the culprit had a way to leave the shed without leaving any footprints, then they would’ve used the same method when they entered it. Why would they purposely leave footprints only when they went in?”

Yet again, Sherlock had immediately countered his argument, and now John’s expression clouded over.

“Well then, the culprit entered the shed and stole the painting. Then when they were about to open the door and leave, Mr Daldry appeared at the front entrance, so they temporarily hid in a corner of the shed. You said earlier that the candlelight couldn’t have lit up the whole room, right? And after Mr Daldry left, they tried to flee from the front entrance…… but because other people might come through the front door, they must have left via the back. Sorry, just forget this one.”

Realising the flaw in his reasoning halfway through, John retracted what he’d said, and began to anguish.

“Aargh, is this a dead end?”

“Don’t do that, John. Your ideas were pretty good.”

“But, didn’t I reach a deadlock in my argument?”

“True; why did they only leave footprints when entering the shed……?”

They agonised over the culprit’s intent, unable to get to the bottom of the case as of yet. Then, after a while, a police officer entered the inn.

“Excuse me, I have an important report……”

He spoke to a middle-aged man who looked to be his superior. Sherlock and John stood up from their seats, and casually moved closer.

“In one of the guests’ homes, we’ve discovered what appears to be the stolen painting.”

[exphhoria]

Stargazing with Him

Character(s): Albedo

Format: Drabble

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 315

Request: probably stargazing with albedo mmm yeah probably that

You sat down on a wooden stool next to Albedo as he worked. “Whatcha doing?” you said as you leaned over to get a better view. He was hunched over his desk, pouring colored liquids into different plants. Chemicals were spilled all over the desk and floor and you sighed under your breath.

“Testing a theory on plant growth...” he responded absently. You mumbled a small, “Hmm,” in acknowledgement. There you sat for another hour before tapping him on the shoulder. He looked at you questioningly, “Yes?”

“C’mon, let’s go do something! It’s too pretty outside to be stuck in the lab all day,” you exclaimed. Albedo pondered that for a few moments before nodding and saying, “Alright, what do you have planned?”

You giggled and grabbed his hand, “Follow me!” Together, you ran with him trailing behind you until you finally arrived at the destination. You sat down on the damp grass and smiled at him. “We’re here,” you said as you patted the ground beside you. 

Albedo carefully took a seat next to you and took out his sketchbook and colored pencils. The sun was just beginning to disappear on the horizon. In the distance you could see the city of Mondstadt across Cider Lake. “Why do you think it’s called Cider Lake if it’s not made of cider?” you wondered out loud as you admired the view.

“The finest cider and wine is made straight from that very lake,” your lover answered. “Ohhhh, makes sense,” you said, laughing to yourself.

As the sky finally faded to night you rested your head on Albedo’s shoulder, watching as he added the final touches to his sketch. The stars shined brightly above and displayed on the drawing pad was a beautifully drawn scene perfectly depicting the landscape in front of you. It was almost as if it the birds, clouds, and windswept dandelions were real.

[sorcerese]

teneguine·:

✢⁎. oblivion yellow

Never before had Professor Oberon Dark seen a more esteemed pupil. 

Her magic is fierce, her natural aptitude for spellsinging far beyond even himself back in his prime. Anankos’ powers did much for him, in gloomy Nohr, but he can’t drop balls of scorching fury onto his foes and hop-skip his way back to safety like Delthea can. He’s seen the training dummies–or rather, what’s left of them. If ever there would come a more fitting cloud on which to forge a lightning bolt, he would take a vow of silence. 

There’s just one problem:

“Hoy, o Font of Brimstone and Pulsars! Verily, in my fell hand lies just one flaming question for thine mind of infinite power to ponder: have you ever considered giving your spells a dramatic touch?” 

Such a problem is the one and only reason he’s deciding to hold her after class today. It should be lunch time by now; Owain’s lectures on Fodlan’s history are often left with feet hurrying to the dining hall. But this–Delthea’s training, as he sees it–is more important than some measly meal. 

Setting aside his papers and his textbooks and his chromatic collection of chalks, he inches closer to the student–each step blocking more and more of the doorway.

“Stuff like special moves, battle cries, heroic epithets…” with each suggestion he uncurls and counts another finger, quickly running through his entire hand with how fast he fires them off, “Oh–and an alter ego! Many heroes of yore have donned the mantle of a second identity: one kept secret from their loved ones so the dark forces they conspire against would not shed their kindred blood!” 

It need not be said that excitement shimmers in each feature of Owain’s face: his eyes, ears, cheeks, flashy smile. But none of that holds a candle to the sudden pose he strikes, one hand falling over half his face, the other outstretched to poor Delthea while he breaks his back bending into an obtuse curve.

“Try something like this: Cower, mortals! The inferno rages! the storm swells! I am Delthea Dark, and with the ravenous force of my Vermillion Forcebolt, I shall teach you the meaning of revenge!” 

//starter for @sorcerese

             " what in mila's holy name did that idiot just call me? "        the prodigy says under her breath as she feels her eyelid oddly twitch for a moment taken aback by his eccentric personality, raising a hand to her nerve ticking eye she takes the longest painstakingly blink of her life. it was almost as bad as when alm handed her a bag of flour as rations. he rushes towards her she watches as he gets closer to her and she grips her cape in her hands and stops for a moment upon further realization.     “   oh.  ”   her mouth opened in surprise. she looked at his attire. looked around for a moment then realized .     “  oh crap.... he's a professor. am i in trouble? mmm.... no way i didn't get caught skipping at all last week.... ”    she keeps murmuring to herself. delthea wasn't exactly paying attention to him at first as her mind was rotating around the fact that she could potentially land herself in the first seat to detention hall this afternoon, she didn't plan on going back there after that one priest kept talking his head off about the rules and respect for the academy and whatever else he said... her memory is spotty considering shes perfected the art of mentally falling asleep mid-lectures. props to luthier for that one. she looks back at the professor who seemed more excited than upset with her. nice. maybe she wasn't in trouble.

 “   oh sorry, i didn't really catch too much of what you said i was busy thinking about the theory of magic in this realm. so forgive me i didn't catch too much of what you said but you were talking about incantations and what not?   ”    the prodigy flashes a painfully sweet smile as she lied through her teeth. she could hardly care about theories but professors love it when they see their student in thought about lectures right? at least, that much she could pick up from the one standing before her.     “  — errr, i haven't put too much thought in battle cries or incantations since back home we didn't find a need to make spells more complicated when they were inefficient in battle but i do enjoy casting magic in a stylish manner.  ”    she wasn't really lying, casting wind magicks to lift her to a better angle before casting another type of magic was kind of her style. she thought it looked cool to float and cast magicks at the same time like some kind of god or something of the sort.     “  alter egos? uhm... i think i know someone who kinda did that, but they scare me so i think i'll pass on that one.  ”    his eyes locked on to hers, his excitement seemed to be stronger than her current energy levels but she didn't mind this kind of attention... after all, she really was too cool and powerful of a mage to ever walk this earth.... or  so she claims. her ego is tickled pink and she closes her eyes and puts both hands on her hips in a rather confident pose.

      “  i'm glad you can see my obvious talents, professor owain, i'll try this... reccomendation of yours but with a bit less of... back pain. also, my last name isn't dark.  ”    she closes her eyes before clears her throat as she regains her composure, she raises her hand in front of her chest elbowed raised high as her other hand grabs hold of her cape lunging it forward.       “  BEHOLD.  Wielder of the most glorious, powerful, and grand magicks.   I AM DELTHEA ,   crimson-black blaze, though i promulgate the laws of nature, i am the alias of destruction incarnate in accordance with the principles of creation.  o crucible which melts my soul, scream forth from the depths of the abyss and engulf my enemies! BURST FORTH :  CRIMSON FLAMES !   ”     her voice echoes through the monastery halls ,  she hears it echo back as everyone who lurked around the halls stare at her and owain in surprise before walking away awkwardly. the mage remains frozen in her pose; her face rising in temperature. 'WHAT DID I JUST DO??'  she quickly regains control over her body and quickly shrinks into a fetal position on the floor, wrapping her cape around her body like a safety blanket, tears about to spill over in embarrassment.    “  there you go professor now if you dont mind... i'm just gonna die here now, thanks for the lesson.   ” 

[captain-emmajones]

love languages

Here is my contribution for CSJJ. Big thanks to @csjanuaryjoy​ for organizing this, to the CSJJ discourse server and its wonderful ladies, to @carpedzem​ for cheering me on always and to @profdanglaisstuff​ for beta'ing this <3

Post 4x11. During the six weeks of peace. It all starts with Mary Margaret reading a stupid article about love languages at breakfast, and before she knows it, Emma finds herself asking Hook his as they are stargazing by the docks.

Canon Compliant -- Fluff -- Banter -- Missing Scene -- Ao3 -- 1,5k words.

A veil of mist hangs low in this January night sky; it dances around a crescent moon wreathed in a halo of silver light. The moon is peering at the scene, down below, by Storybrooke’s harbour.

And what a scene, my dear...

Two figures dressed in warm clothes are sitting on a bench, wrapped up in one of those large checkered blankets that they share; the taller one seems resolute on examining the stars in the night sky, brows furrowed in a focused expression and fingers clenched around a spyglass.

That is quite unfortunate, thinks the moon, for the clouds are impish that night and stubbornly hide their secrets. His companion sits cross-legged at his side, one hand cupping her chin, eyes set on the man’s silhouette and the moon wonders what could possibly be so interesting on this man’s face for the woman not to look up at her.

There is a shift then, in the woman’s composure, and the moon sees one gentle hand grab the man’s arm as a cloud of white smoke escapes her lips.

The moon winces; she knows the silence is about to be shattered.

“Hey, what’s your love language?”

This stupid question has been on the tip of Emma’s tongue all day, tingling and burning, and Mary Margaret and the article she read aloud at breakfast are entirely to blame for it.

Emma is lucky that the rum they drank at dinner with her parents is still coloring their cheeks red, and that a flame seems to be licking up her throat, because it is a delicious burn and saves her the embarrassment.

“Sorry. Say that again, Swan?”

He does not turn around. As something mischievous stands up in Emma’s chest and pouts, Emma wants to groan that there will be no stars to be seen tonight. How dare he not pay attention to her when she let herself be lured by his talks of “star-gazing”?

Instead, she admires the hint of red coloring the apple of his cheeks and the wisps of breath he exhales calmly through his nose.

“I mean, what makes you feel loved?” she asks again, and she tries to sound more annoyed than she actually is.

Which is, actually, not at all, but he most absolutely does not need to know that.  

The expected result occurs as he swiftly shifts to gaze at her, his blue eyes flashing in the dimness, and that sinful tongue licks a pattern across his lips.

“Swan, are you drunk?” he teases, smirking a bit, but with a lot of tenderness.

She chuckles as he clicks his telescope shut without breaking their gaze.

Her legs do feel heavy as lead, and her head deceptively light as a cloud, but that she won’t tell him, not on any account.

“Am not.” And if Emma’s head lolls to his side, terribly tempted by his welcoming shoulders, it must be because of gravity or something.

But she does not cave in, and she raises her eyes to see his entire face crinkling up in a delightful, devilish way and Emma wishes she could kiss each little spot of skin the moon dabbles light on.

“Yes, you are. Should have watched you and Mary Margaret’s cocktails.”

While Emma does think there is something to be said about her mother’s cocktails, she still rolls her eyes and frowns, even as stubborn laughter keeps bubbling up inside her throat and is making it difficult to keep a straight face. “Just answer the question!” And her fist gently bumps against his shoulder for good measure.

He dramatically sighs next to her, one eyebrow quirking up in that peculiar way that makes her toes curl, and she hates him for it but she also wishes that he may never stop.

“...What was the question again?”

She exhales a groan of discontent. “Killian!”

“Emma?”

Another groan. He will be the death of hers. “Your love language! What is it?”

“My love language, you ask? Well, mmmh, let me think.” And as he pretends to ponder, tapping his fingers against his red, red lips, tap, tap, tap, Emma finds herself leaning towards him, against her will, magnetized.

But she catches herself and proceeds to frown harder, hand closing around the cold wooden bench instead of the lapel of his coat. They are trying to have a conversation, for fuck’s sake.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and Emma blinks because she cannot stop looking at his mouth.

“Ah. But Swan, we have a problem.”

“Do we?”

His lips, over hers, now. Forever, preferably. The delicate shadow dropped by his eyelashes onto his cheekbones is infuriating.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, although I am familiar with many languages, I’ve never heard of that love language theory of yours.”

It’s a miracle she hears anything he’s saying.

“It’s not my theory,” she mumbles right back, and she can tell by the lovely, lovely sparkles in his blue eyes that it is exactly the reaction he wanted out of her.

“Care to explain it either way?”

She thinks she shakes her head then. He is annoying. This is far more than she ever signed up for. She just wanted to tease him, and now she is the one being teased. Truly a terrible turn of events. That doesn’t mean she can control the smile that tickles her lips.

“Well,” she clears her throat, straightens her back, tries to appear very serious, “there are five traditional love languages.”

“Yes,” he encourages her, smiling widely, “I’m all ears, Swan.”

Her cheeks hurt from all of the smiling. It’s okay. He and his stupid big blue eyes are worth it.

“Well, first, there are words of affirmation, like a loved one telling you they are proud of you or that they lo--...you know what I’m saying.”

I’m a fan of every part of you, Swan.

And the thing is, she hears herself utter the words, and she does think that she does not sound like herself at all -- talking about love languages with Captain Hook -- but also Killian and she have been dating for the last couple of months now and this isn’t like anything she’s ever done before and maybe it isn’t so bad.

“Interesting. Do go on.”

In fact, it cannot even be remotely bad when he keeps staring at her like this, as if she is really precious and important and he cares or something.

“Then there’s quality time, like feeling loved when you’ve spent a precious and unique moment with a loved one.”

Right now, we have a quiet moment.

“Mmm, I see.”

“And then there are acts of service, and that goes without explanation.”

I knew Bae as a boy. Perhaps I could talk to the boy. It would help him come to terms with his father’s passing. And me.

“Fair enough.”

“Then there are gifts, of course --”

“Like the rose I offered you on our first date?”

“-- like the rose you offered me on our first date --,” she repeats. Before a bucket of cold water is spilled on top of her head as she realizes what he’s just said and what she’s just agreed with.

It’s a good thing the street light above their head is doing a poor flickering job because by the time Emma has pondered her own words and has reflected on how naturally Killian said that last line, well, she’s flushed a bright red.

He doesn’t mean that he, that they, that she...does he?

An alarm rings inside Emma’s head. Beware! Slippery slope of feelings ahead!

And instead of thinking one second more about this, Emma heaves a quiet breath, blinks, and exhales sharply: “-- yeah and the like.” As she looks up, she notices Killian’s smug grin.  

And something very soft, in his eyes, something very soft and terrifying.

“What’s the last one?” he asks in a husky whisper as swirls of white vapor escape his mouth to kiss Emma’s lips.

She gulps. Exhales. “Physical touch.”

By the time she says the words, he is hovering dangerously close to her, and his hand is slipping into her hair, curling around the base of her neck, and the tingles it diffuses all over her skin are simply illegal.

“Like that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nods, lips tight, unable to breathe. What is he doing to her?

“Like that, yeah.” And if her voice is hoarse, the ocean breeze isn’t the only one to blame.

His fingers slowly abandon her hair to find her lips, and he presses them, gently, above her open mouth and Emma’s hands have found his arms without her consent.

And just as he dives towards her, heart pounding, courage roars inside of her and she dares ask once again: “So?”

It makes him stop, gaze seriously at her, eyes open wide. She swallows again.

“So, what?” he answers, and he almost sounds angry.

The lust she sees dancing in his eyes tightens each of her muscles.

“What’s your love language?” she repeats, bites her lower lip.

She isn’t flinching. She started this. She wants to win.

He smiles, fingers caressing down her neck to find her collarbone, and although she shudders she feels victory stretch her lips.

“I’m a pirate, love. I don’t choose between treasures. I take them all.”

As if to seal his words, his mouth hungrily finds hers, and he drinks her breath, and Emma lets herself be defeated in her heart only, but surely not aloud.