#soft hint of

[aph-america]

Important Powerpoint PLEASE READ!!!

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you understand and now will join the army of spreading the bbygurl Ivan Braginsky agenda

[novaneondream]

Anyways what kind of music do you think Eri listens to

[icepopstar5105us]

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

[artificial-angels]

I thought the angel devil on each of his shoulders was a silly concept

[erwinsvow]

“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🩵

[doctorho]

viktor doesn't... pay that much attention to appearances, his or anyone else's. not when it doesn't matter. sure, there's the 'wearing what they see as respectable clothes so they take you seriously' and the 'not going to the dinner table covered in oil stains', but beyond that? he doesn't really care, to be honest.

yes, he's aware that some people put a lot more thought into the way they look, and into what other people think about the way they look. he knows that's a thing. it just happens to be a thing he chooses not to personally get invonved in.

well, it had been.

he honestly hadn't even thought about it much, before. it had just been one of those things that other people did, one of those things he had never really understood. you know, one of those things that made him feel like maybe the rest of the world had had some secret meeting without him where they decided that yes, these are the rules, and no, we won't explain them, you just have to know.

one of those things.

and he had been fine not thinking about it! truly, he had been blissfully unaware of what the current beauty standards were and which traits were seen as good or bad on which year -

and then he'd met you, by some miracle. you know, viktor doesn't meet that many new people, these days, so it does genuinely feel like a miracle when you just... stumble into his life one day. and without even thinking about it, automatically, viktor's brain files you away as beautiful, and he treats that as a passing fact, the same way he treats the color of your eyes. it's just a categorizing trait; this person just is beautiful.

and then, later, when he learns that apparently not everyone thinks that, his brain disagrees, severly. like - are they blind? is this a joke? it's a bad joke, if so, and then he's mad for you.

because he remembers that, ah, right. some people are weird about appearances. they have their menial rules about it that change by the decade.

he's still mad for you, but mentally he's ended that argument with well they're all idiots. because clearly you are an awesome, incredible, beautiful human being and this shouldn't be an argument in the first place.

he tells you this, and then his heart breaks a little when you seem so used to hearing the opposite. when you seem to have accepted what those idiots were saying because you'd just...heard it so often.

when you seem to not-quite-believe that he could really see you as beautiful. that he could really, actually want you. like that.

and it's - it drives him up the wall that this is even a thing. that the negative things you've heard outweigh the positive ones, and apparently by a landslide. that he can't make you see yourself the way he sees you.

because, truly, he thinks you're so beautiful. like, are you kidding? viktor's been skin and bone his whole life, and you're so...soft. he knows it way before he ever touches you; he can see it, and he has a well enough functioning imagination. and he's been thinking about it a lot, lately. what you'd feel like under his fingers. against his body. he has theories about this.

he can tell you're soft, and warm, and sometimes when the sunlight hits you he genuinely thinks you look like you could be straight out of one of those expensive oil paintings people paid a lot of money to see just a glimpse of.

and - yes, okay, maybe some of this was just his hormones talking, but come on. he couldn't not want to touch you. that was just one of those facts of life - the sun rose every morning, and whenever viktor saw you, he had the urge to touch you. to be close to you. to prove to you how much he adored you.

and then when you let him? that - that felt like a miracle. truly and honestly. because - viktor had never considered himself to be especially lucky, just, like, in life in general, but this?

he had to have won some sort of cosmic lottery. to first be lucky enough to meet you and then to be able to do this. to get so close. to touch you like this, to see you like this. it is nothing short of a privilege and he takes it, happily and greedily. and he makes it his personal mission to let you know exactly what he thought about you, and exactly how little you should care about anyone else's opinion. except your own, of course, but only on those days your mind was being kind to you.

so he makes sure you know that he absolutely worships you. okay? you are his personal deity, and he is devoted. he lets you know, any way he knows how, and any opportunity he gets. given half a chance, he will be praising you, telling how gorgeous you are and how lucky he is to have you. telling you how good you look, how good you feel, how good you make him feel. he isn't shy - he tells you, in enough detail to make your cheeks heat up.

and when you're alone, and you have all the time in the world? he shows you, and he doesn't hold back. and then he reminds you, again and again and again.

and you know viktor isn't a liar. he doesn't care about things like this enough to lie about them. so when he tells you that he loves the way you look, the way you feel, the way you are, you believe him.

[justaz]

married merthur lounging in bed, gently caressing the other as sunlight streams through the windows and across the bed, warming them even more. though its a slow morning, the weight of their duties is slowly growing heavier and heavier as the time for them to get up approaches. merlin remembering arthur’s dream of sometimes wanting to run away and live on a farm where no one knew who he was. as grateful as he is for the happy ending he’s been blessed with, he can’t help but also wish to get away with arthur and escape their responsibilities.

his magic thrums under his skin and his hands still. it takes arthur a moment to call him out on it. merlin asks if he still wants to run away together. arthur shifts to look him in the eye and is like “sometimes, i suppose. why?”

merlin drags his finger down arthur’s side and lets his magic dip beneath his king’s skin, “why don’t we go?”

arthur shivers as he feels the warm, buzzing magic settle over his ribs and is like “we have a kingdom to run. can’t exactly just leave it all behind.” and merlin grins and brings his hand to hold arthur’s, lacing their fingers together.

“who says we leave it all behind? why not a…a vacation?” arthur raises an eyebrow and echoes his suggestion. merlin nods.

“and what if something happens while we’re gone? an attack or a sickness or…”

“i have magic, arthur. if i can use it to get us away then i can use it to bring us back,” he reminds his husband, “morgana and gaius can reach us with communication spells if there’s truly something wrong. we can leave gwen and morgana in charge. we can get away for a bit. like a honeymoon.”

“we’ve been married for a couple years now. can we even still have a honeymoon?”

“i didn’t get a honeymoon before, i should get one now.” arthur concedes to his point and considers his idea. merlin pushes further, “with my magic, we could go anywhere in the world. wherever you want. greece, egypt, china…” merlin smiles and presses a kiss to arthur’s pouting lips, “anywhere, everywhere.”

arthur sighs out of his nose as a smile grows on his face, captivated by the idea, “somewhere warm with a beach.”

merlin laughs giddily and rolls over on top of arthur, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips, cheeks, and jaw, “anywhere else?”

arthur drags him back down into a tender kiss and rolls them back over, arthur pressing merlin down into the mattress, “anywhere as long as i’m with you.”

[ceaselesslyinlove]

“you look distinguished. but then again you always have” pen can’t help but compliment him even after everything in that first episode it’s so sweet 🥹😭

[fighting-naturalist]

idk i just thought he looked real pretty lit like this 🤷‍♀️

[lenle-g]

Inspired by these Scott and John words by the amazing @scribbles97 who knows I adore the idea of John's Oxford stint and couldn't resist this gem <3

The letter’s weight hadn’t changed in his hands, even if it’s appearance had. Once crisp sharp edges were now crumpled and the two folds were starting to rip where he had folded and unfolded it so many times.  Practically, he knew the letter was exactly the same weight as it had been when his course supervisor had handed it to him. Except, as days had become a week, the weight had felt heavier in John’s chest. He only had another week to think about it, his supervisor had warned it would take all summer to make the appropriate arrangements. His professors had all seemed convinced that he would go, it wasn’t every day you got invited to study at Oxford University after all. 

It would only be for a year, Ffion had insisted at study group, an interim that would still count towards his degree. He had only part jokingly asked if she wanted to go in his place. She would be much better suited to making friends in a new place. 

There was no denying it though, Oxford was tempting. The British University had always been in close competition with Harvard, each trying to outdo one another year on year with improved facilities and support. The only reason John hadn’t considered the other University had been the same reason he was still hesitating with the offer. 

Oxford was a long way away. 

To get home from Harvard, at best, was a four hour flight, at worst a two day drive. 

Oxford was transatlantic, at least double the flight time. 

He wouldn’t see his family for a whole year. 

Looking up he watched the gentle sway of the apple tree in the breeze, listened to the gentle creak of the barn doors. He wouldn’t see home for a whole year. 

“Whatcha doing out here, Johnny?” 

His eyes widened as he looked over his shoulder to the door back into the kitchen. Scott was leaning against the frame, the knowing cocky smile familiar as always. 

“You’re an hour early.”

Scott was meant to have flown in from Virginia, his flight was meant to have just landed. They all knew how long it took from landing to get home, they’d all done it enough times. 

Big brother sighed as he stepped out onto the verandah, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he leant on the railing next to the step where John was sitting. 

“Dad left a jet in DC and took the new rail line up to New York, said I could fly myself home. You do the math.”

He already had. 

“So, your turn to answer my question.” Scott continued, nodding at the letter, “What you got there?”

He was grateful really, Scott had been the one he had wanted to talk to about the whole thing. Scott would know what to say, his biggest brother somehow just always did. There wasn’t the same pressure from Scott as there was from Dad, he just understood differently. 

“Oxford University have invited me to complete my research year over there.” He admitted, reading over the words he already had memorised, “I could spend the next academic year in England.”

“Nice one.” Scott grinned, “I’ll tell Dad to pick up a bottle of something on his way in so we can ce--”

“I don’t know if I’m going to accept it.” He cut him off forcefully. Just like Dad, Scott had a habit of getting ahead of himself. 

The message seemed to get through though as his big brother plopped down next to him on the step. His frown was obvious confusion. 

“John, that’s one hell of an offer, Oxford is… it’s Oxford.”

“At present they have the better facilities over Harvard.” He filled in, not taking his eyes off of the paper, “They’ve just spent six million upgrading their Offshore Observatory. That’s as well as the Royal Observatory which is as good as what we’ve got at Harvard.”

On paper, comparing the facilities left it as a no brainer. 

“So what’s the hang up?” Scott asked, reaching for the letter to read for himself. 

Still John’s eyes didn’t leave the paper, still firmly fixed in place as his big brother read over the words for him. 

“Oxford is in England.”

Scott looked up, eyebrow raised, “So?”

“I don’t know anybody in England.” He sighed, “You guys all worry that I spend too much time on my own now if I go over there I’ll spend even less time with people.”

Scott shrugged at he leant against the railing of the steps, “You like being on your own though. I thought you would have jumped at the chance.” 

A glance back towards the kitchen apparently gave Scott all the answers he needed as John pursed his lips. 

“Oh.” 

“I know I’m not as close as the rest of you,” He admitted softly, “But you’re still my family.”

Scott shuffled over until their shoulders were pressed together. John expected him to sling an arm across his back, but was grateful when he didn’t. Instead big brother handed back the letter, nodding as he did so.

“And you’re still our brother, moving across an ocean isn’t going to change that. I’d come and visit when I’m on leave. Hell, I could bring Alan with me and you could show off the observatories.”

He had to smile at the thought. Watching the stars with Alan was one of his favourite pastimes, to be able to show his brother the best in star watching technology would perhaps be the biggest bonus of the trip. 

“Don’t let a fear of the unknown stop you from jumping in.” Scott grinned, his shoulder bumping John’s lightly, “You might love it.” 

“You sound like Dad.” 

Scott laughed as he stood, “Yeah, a few people have told me that recently.” 

Pausing on the top step as he frowned again, “And I wouldn’t worry about being on your own, doesn’t Dad have a friend over in London? That Lord guy?” 

“Yeah,” John nodded, suddenly remembering himself, “Yeah he does.” 

“So, you gonna go?” 

Taking a breath, he straightened his shoulders. His chest still felt heavy with the fear of not knowing what would come next. Scott seemed to have every faith though, and John knew he needed to have the same sort of faith in himself. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed, finally smiling as he looked up to his big brother, “I’m going to Oxford.”

[dreamtuna]

You’re lying next to Levi in bed, the covers pushed back so they’re pooled around your ankles. The cool night air tickles your skin now that it was getting colder. You had tried to pull them up over you but like usual he had demanded this. He’s propped up on his elbow, his other hand wandering up and down your chest. Gentle, teasing. His nails barely graze your skin. He lightly squeezes your breast but his gaze never leaves yours. He loves the way your cheeks flush with warmth, the way your lips part slightly for him, the way the softest gasp leaves you. But he loves your eyes most of all. His thumb plays with your nipple, flicking lightly over it in slow, deliberate motions. You can’t help but push your breasts towards him. Your subconscious demands more.

But just as you’re really getting into it his hand starts to trail away. Fingers ghost down your stomach. It tickles ever so slightly, your body jerking away, punctuated with more soft gasps.

He chuckles.

Oh… You can’t help but freeze at such a beautiful, rare sound. Your breath catches in your throat and you realise you’d do anything to hear it again. He’s always like music to you, but the beautiful melody of his laugh just makes you melt. You must really be blessed because you had been hearing it a lot more recently. Just for you.

Your eyes are locked with his. His scars are barely visible in the shadows his face is hidden in, but his eye twinkles at you. Your core feels like it’s going to erupt. You’ve been shifting your hips towards him without even realising it, only noticing when his firm grasp falls on you and halts your motions. You want him so badly, but he is always so insistent on taking it slow. He’s not used to the world now, the idea of peace strange and unfamiliar to him, but with you he can savour every moment. Only with you.

Your hands reach out to his chin, tilting his head slightly so the light better catches his features. His brows begin to furrow but before he can complain you close the distance and kiss him gently.

You would wait an eternity for his touch as long as you could spend it right beside him like this.

[acearohippo]

I love fandoms, especially witnessing what fans take away from source material and how fans interpret it based on their experiences. Not to mention the stark difference of interaction between new fans, casual fans, experienced fans, and long-term fans.

I say this because the SVSSS fandom has continuously fascinated me in insisting in discussions that there are parallels between Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe (tell don't show), but in their fanworks, I just see parallels between Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan (show don't tell).

And it's not even (fully) a case where they're blending character personalities because they want what the other dynamic has, it's just how the characters are based on canon in two different timelines.

All of this to say, perhaps original draft PIDW (NOT original!PIDW nor pre!SY PIDW which are completely different) was supposed to revolve around the dynamic between SJ and YQY vs SJ and LBH. Perhaps YQY was to be the last hour mastermind, the true foil to LBH.

And fandom is just circling this idea without realising it because, once again, the unreliable narrator that is SY has already convinced this fandom that any version of SJ has to be a/the villain, regardless if it's through his own actions or baseless rumours.

Warning, run-on sentence ahead.

I don't know, mans, but it's gotta mean something that LBH and YQY have such similar life beats of being orphaned and having a tough life but remaining kind/compassionate because they had someone to live for until they didn't which left them empty until they found (or refound in YQY's case) one (1) man to obsess over in an uncomfortably intrusive way with no regards for his feelings and rejections, eventually reaching a position as the most powerful being in existence with a huge caveat that their sword is 83% of that power and is slowly killing them which did nothing to soften said man of their obsession's into showing them kindness leading to the ultimate confrontation between the two in which only one could survive and keep their obsession, not that it mattered because neither of them got to experience his feelings reciprocated, except in another timeline where the same things are happening until their obsession suddenly stops rejecting their (still intrusive) advances even if he is acting a bit silly, but hey take advantage while you can and take advantage they did because now they have that reciprocated feeling (except one still "won" as he gets to keep him for himself) and be thankful that all it took was, in their perspective, a near death fever that drastically changed his personality and most likely left him crippled in some other way, preventing their obsession from not NOT needing them anymore, all-in-all fulfilling their desire to be relied upon again, hooray! 😋😁✌🏽

In all seriousness, at the end of the day people are going to draw connections between characters that fit whatever narrative they understood from the story. SVSSS fandom just seems to be trying to convince others of one narrative while believing on a deeper level of another narrative. It's amusing and makes following the fandom fun.

[skyward-floored]

Hi this picture of Twilight is one of my favorites

Okay thank you

[dlanadhz]

People in the We Are tag are acting like it's a huge revelation that Fang will punch a bitch for you, but need I remind you that in episode 1, Phum was like "I need to get revenge on this asshole. who can help me? Ah. Fang." and Fang offered to get this guy back with barely a pause. And it did not come across like a "we have money, let's ruin his life" kind of help. And somewhere else, there was another hint that Fang would fight someone if asked. Phum is also known for fighting a bit. And then Fang heard about Q hurting Toey was like "want me to punch him?"

The revelation that Fang met Tan and his first instinct was to punch his chaos gremlin face is not surprising to me. The idea that they used to fight on the regular, and that he got into fights with others regularly, is not a surprise. In fact, I'm surprised we don't hear about this soft sweater boy fucking people up in high school more often.

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Nightmare’s solace

*Not my GIF.

Nikolai Lantsov still has me in a chokehold so i wrote another thing. This one features one of my favourite fic tropes and also has a smidgen of plot this time so its a bit longer. Based more on show Nikolai who I feel is a little bit softer around the edges than his book counterpart.

Summary: You find yourself spending the night with your secrect crush, the King of Ravka and as luck would have it, there’s only one bed *gasp* ;) He comforts you after a nightmare and one thing leads to another.

Word count: 4.5K ish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild angst/comfort, mention of nightmares, smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, protected sex (because resonsible adults), maybe slightly OOC Nikolai but that’s just because he’s too stupid to realise reader wants him as much as he wants her :D

All mistakes are my own.

You shuffled into what was presumably the world’s smallest room, silently cursing the innkeeper. Most of the limited space was taken up by the bed, which itself was small. There was a dresser squeezed into the corner and a short, uncomfortable looking couch pushed against one wall. “Perfect,” you huffed sarcastically, dropping your bag onto the bed. You did a quick sweep of the room and then the tiny adjoining bathing room. When you turned back, Nikolai was standing near the side of the bed. The King was uncharacteristically silent, a frown etched into his features. Tamar followed closely behind him and she let out a low whistle as she took in the room. There wasn’t even enough floor space for the four of you to be in there at the same time, so Nadia waited just outside the door. “Cosy,” she joked, waggling her eyebrows at you from the doorway and you snorted a laugh. Nikolai’s frown deepened. “You cannot seriously be expecting all four of us to spend the night in this sardine box?” he muttered incredulously. “Of course not,” Tamar answered cheerfully as she moved past him to check the window locks. If she had noticed the King’s unusually sullen mood, she didn’t comment on it. “Nadia and I will be in our own room across the hall.” “Oh. Right. Of course. Just the two of us then,” Nikolai said, sounding vaguely strangled. You tried not to be offended. “No need for us all to be together, no one knows us here. Besides, you can handle yourself, so protecting you is a one woman job really,” she explained with a grin. Nikolai nodded but his expression was still grim. Satisfied that everything was secure, Tamar pulled the drapes shut and turned to you. “We good?” She questioned. You shrugged, “I guess so.” Nikolai opened his mouth as if to protest, but promptly snapped it shut again when he saw you looking at him. He folded his arms over his chest and turned his attention to the bed instead, glaring at it as if it had personally insulted him. “Okay then, we’ll see you both in the morning,” Tamar said as she moved to leave.

“Sleep tight,” Nadia added in a sing song voice, and Tamar gave you a wink on her way out. You flipped them both off behind Nikolai’s back. They knew you had a thing for him and they weren’t exactly subtle about it, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they had chosen this room on purpose — especially since Tamar was the one who had volunteered you for this mission in the first place. You crossed to the door, securing the lock and sliding the security bolt into place, then perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Nikolai was agitated, pacing back and forth in the limited space. The lack of confidence was so unlike him, you wondered if he was afraid.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here,” you tried to reassure him, “I know what I’m doing, and Tamar is just across the hall.” “I’m not worried,” he huffed, still pacing unhappily. “Uh huh.” You only just managed to hold back an eye roll, “Then what’s your problem?” He stopped, his eyes flicking to yours momentarily and away again as he heaved a put-upon sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bed, and you did roll your eyes then. “Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m sure we can manage to share for one night.” He stared at you as if you’d said something utterly ridiculous — like you’d suggested he move to Novyi zem and take up a career as a circus clown. “Absolutely not.” “We’re both adults here your highness,” you reasoned, but his expression only darkened. “Oh come on, a little cuddling never hurt anyone. I’ll even let you be the little spoon if you want,” you teased, trying to lighten his mood. “I — we — I mean— I don’t —“ he spluttered, his face flushing red. You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was. You had never known the silver-tongued King to be at a loss for words. He fixed you with a disapproving glare as he finally managed to gather himself. “That would hardly be appropriate,” he said haughtily. You bristled at the condescension in his tone and his holier-than-thou attitude. You were only here in the first place because he had seen fit to plan a secret visit Shu Han. Technically, you were a Grisha teacher, not a royal guard, and it wasn’t strictly part of your job description to serve as his protective detail, but you owed Tamar a favour and the King had wanted to take a limited group who would not draw attention. Your part-Shu heritage made it easy for you to blend in and you were powerful enough, and had enough combat experience, to be able to defend yourself as well as him should the need arise. “Suit yourself,” you shrugged, grabbing a pillow from the bed and tossing it at him with a little more force than necessary. “If you don’t want to share, you can take the couch.” “Fine,” he muttered, catching the pillow with both hands before it could smack him in the face. He set it down on the couch and grabbed his bag, stalking off into the bathing room. You heard the water running as you rooted around in the dresser to find a spare blanket. You draped it over the back of the couch and then started getting ready for bed in an effort to distract yourself from thoughts of Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka — naked and wet, and just a few feet away. You loosened your hair from its tight braid, combing it through with your fingers, but when you opened your bag, you realized that you had somehow forgotten to pack nightclothes. Fuck. Cursing under your breath, you deliberated briefly but ultimately decided there was no way you were sleeping in your kefta or your bra. You stripped down to just a thin undershirt and panties, and climbed into bed, snuffing the nearest candle to dim the light and pulling the covers up to your waist, just as Nikolai emerged from the bathroom. He was barefoot, dressed for bed in a faded Ketterdam University shirt and grey sleep pants. His hair was damp and free of product, falling naturally onto his forehead instead of his usual swooped style. Seeing him so undone was odd, it felt intimate, and you couldn’t help but stare. Interestingly, Nikolai seemed to have the same problem. His eyes raked over your form and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze lingering on the swell of your breasts far longer than could be considered appropriate. The heat of his gaze was like flames across your skin. He took a step towards you, but then suddenly he seemed to come back to his senses. He swiftly averted his eyes and turned away, heading for the couch instead. He bent over to place his bag on the floor and your eyes were drawn to his ass. You struggled to tear your gaze away from the smooth, tanned skin of his lower back, now on display where his shirt rode up. He met your eyes as he straightened and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement when you blushed, quickly looking away. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but you beat him to it. “It’s late,” you said curtly, embarrassed, in light of his comment about inappropriate behavior, to be caught so obviously checking him out — even if he had been doing the same. “We should get some sleep.” He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your tone but he inclined his head in silent agreement. Laying down on the couch, he adjusted his pillow and pulled the blanket over himself. He must have been uncomfortable. The couch was so comically small that he had to curl himself up to fit, but he was stubborn and since he’d been so vehemently against sharing the bed before, you didn’t bother to suggest it again. He reached over to snub out the candlelight. “Wait,” you mumbled, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “I uhh.. I guess I should probably warn you.” You rubbed the back of your neck self-consciously. Nikolai stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue and you felt your face heating up again. You couldn’t not tell him if you were going to be spending the night in the same room though, so you swallowed down the feeling of humiliation and ploughed ahead. “I have... nightmares, sometimes. It’s not really a big deal, but I can get pretty upset and I don’t want you to freak out if it happens.” A look of concern flitted across his face but he didn’t say anything and you were grateful for it, you didn’t want his pity. “Bad memories,” you shrugged, “from the war, you know?” you finished quietly, lifting your eyes briefly to meet his. The war that had killed your family, destroyed your home. The war that had seen the Darkling murder your friends. The war that had forced you to see and do things so terrible that even now you could not speak of them. Nikolai did know. He had been a soldier too, after all. He understood why the things you’d been through might haunt you, and on a personal level, he knew what it was like to be tortured by memories of the things you had done, of the people you couldn’t save. He nodded his head sympathetically. “Ok, well, goodnight then,” you mumbled awkwardly as you settled yourself down, curling up on your side. “Goodnight,” Nikolai replied softly. You tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position or quiet your mind, The King’s close proximity and the fact that you had shared your secret with him combining to make it almost impossible for you to fall asleep. You lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of his deep, even breaths until you eventually managed to drop off. Sometime in the middle of the night, you sprang bolt upright in bed, a choked sob tearing its way from your throat. Your heart pounded, the terror of the nightmare fresh in your mind. Nikolai appeared beside you almost instantly, his hand rubbing gentle circles over your back.

 “Shhhh..” he soothed, his voice low and rough from sleep, “It’s okay, it was just a dream.” You reached out blindly in the near darkness until your hands found his solid form, clutching at him desperately as your tears began to fall. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest without hesitation, tucking your head under his chin. He was sleep-warm and he smelled faintly of cologne. You turned into him, burying your face in the soft cotton of his t-shirt and allowing him to envelope you as you cried. You trembled, struggling to get yourself under control and he squeezed you tighter still.

 “It’s over now,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.” Nikolai held you until your sobbing had subsided and your breathing started to even out, then he pulled away, moving to get off the bed. You grabbed his arm to stop him. “Stay,” you pleaded, fear bleeding into your tone, “Please.” He turned back immediately, pulling you into his arms again without argument. He stroked your hair lightly as he held you and he didn’t push you to talk. His quiet strength was comforting. Eventually, you calmed enough to realize how pathetic you must seem, clinging to him like a child. You let go, fisting your hands in the sheets at your lap and steadfastly avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, mortified. “Don’t do that,” he said sternly, putting one finger under your chin to tilt your head up. “You have nothing to apologise for.” He gave you a reassuring smile as your gaze flicked up to meet his in the dim light. His brow was furrowed with concern, but his eyes held no judgement, only empathy. His hair was askew from sleeping and his smile was crooked, giving his handsome face a boyish quality. His t-shirt was tight across his broad chest and biceps. The sight of him made your breath hitch, he had never looked so appealing as he did right then. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of your hair back behind your ear. It was a simple gesture, but the unexpected gentleness of his touch and the kindness in his eyes made you well up again. “What can I do?” Nikolai asked helplessly, as your tears spilled over once more. “Make love to me,” you murmured, slipping your hand under his shirt and running your fingers lightly along the strip of skin just above his waistband. His muscles twitched under your fingertips. “Help me forget.” It wasn’t fair of you to ask it of him, but in the moment you didn’t care. You needed something to chase the demons from your mind and he was a good man. Honest and kind. You knew that you could trust him not to hurt you. There was a wet patch over his heart where your tears had soaked through his shirt and you covered it with your hand as you leaned in towards him, pressing your lips to his. He froze for a fraction of a second, but then he was kissing you back, opening his mouth to you when you licked along his lower lip. He cupped your jaw with one hand, his touch feather light. He allowed you to take full control, and you did, sliding your free hand into the short hair at the nape of his neck as you tangled your tongue with his, using your grip to tilt his head and deepen the kiss. You were both breathing heavily when you parted and you could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. He was silent for what felt like an eternity, his inner conflict playing out across his face.

 “I can’t,” he said finally, but he didn’t move away. His heart was still racing and he swallowed thickly, his eyes drawn back to your mouth. He wanted you too. “You can,” you insisted. Lowering your head, you kissed and licked your way from the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt, up his neck to nip at his pulse point. He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed and his fingers lacing through your hair almost against his will. Sensing weakness, you moved to straddle him. He let out a surprised grunt as you settled yourself firmly in his lap, his hands instinctively dropping to your waist. You nuzzled along his jawline to nibble on his earlobe, grinding your hips against him and he groaned, turning his head to find your mouth with his. He kissed you hungrily, his grip tightening on your waist as he rocked up into you. You could feel his body responding through the layers of fabric between you and when you reached for the hem of his shirt, he let you pull it up and off over his head. You claimed his mouth again as you ran your hand down his bare chest and abdomen to palm his growing erection through his pants. You swallowed the sound he made as his hips canted up into your touch, but then suddenly he was pulling back and carefully pushing you away. This time it was him who mumbled an apology. “I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly. “For what?” you frowned, confused. “I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t be taking advantage.” “Pretty sure I’m the one trying to take advantage of you here,” you chuckled wryly. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he sighed, running his fingers through his sleep mussed hair as he turned away, “You’re upset, and vulnerable right now.” Your stomach churned with embarrassment at the look of distress on his face. Obviously you had read things wrong and this was his attempt at letting you down gently. He probably wasn’t even attracted to you and even if he was, hadn’t he tried to say no? Yet here you were, practically forcing yourself on him. He was a King and you were a nobody, what right did you have to demand this of him? “I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily. You felt your eyes fill with a fresh wave of tears and you bit your lip, trying - and failing - to stop them from falling. “I get it, you’re not interest—“ “It’s not that.” Nikolai frowned, cutting you off mid sentence. You shook your head. “It’s okay, I understand.” “No. I want to,” he insisted, “Believe me, I do.” He reached up to cup your face in his hands, swiping the wetness from your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a display of tenderness you hadn’t been expecting. “I just — I don’t want to be a regret,” he admitted softly. “Never,” you whispered fiercely, meeting his eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about this,” you confessed shyly, “I want this, Nikolai, I want you,” you assured him. He searched your face for a moment, his hand still caressing your cheek. Then he leaned forward tentatively, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, his kisses slower than before as his tongue explored your mouth, hesitant at first but gradually growing bolder. You wondered absently if it was the use of his first name that had persuaded him. You raked your nails through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and he growled low in his throat. His hands left your face to trail down your sides, rucking up your sleep shirt to find bare skin. You broke away from him momentarily to remove it, leaving you in just your panties before him and he muttered a curse under his breath as he looked you over, his eyes darkening with desire. Reaching out to pull you back towards him, he slanted his mouth over yours once again. You moved to lay back against the pillows, pulling him down with you and he followed without resistance, propping himself up on his elbows to keep most of his weight off you. You let your hands roam his back and shoulders, touching everywhere you could reach, as his lips and tongue worshipped every inch of the skin now on show for him. His ministrations were unhurried and gentle, as though you were something to be savored, something precious. The thought made you feel emotional again and you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the sensations instead. He kissed his way open mouthed down the expanse of your throat and over your collarbones. When he reached your breasts, he swirled his tongue over the hardened nub of first one nipple and then the other, before he continued his downward path, licking and kissing slowly over your rib cage and across your stomach until you were whimpering and writhing beneath him, your hands tangling in his hair. He nosed at your center through the damp lace of your panties and you gasped, your hips lifting off the bed. He turned his head, suckling at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh — hard enough to have your hands tightening in his hair and a moan escaping your lips, but not quite hard enough to leave a lasting mark. He paused for a moment to draw a ragged breath and you felt his lips quirk up into a smile against your skin as you tugged on his hair impatiently. He moved back, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lifted your hips to help him as he pulled them down and off, tossing them to the floor. He slid his hands up your legs, his thumbs rubbing in teasing circles, slowly inching higher as he kissed a line from your knee back up towards the apex of your thighs. His lips bypassed the place you wanted him most, moving to leave soft, teasing kisses across your hips and lower belly instead, but his hand stayed it’s course and when it finally reached its destination, he gave a self-satisfied hum to find you slick and ready for him. He levered himself up so that he could slide his tongue into your mouth as he slipped two fingers inside you, rubbing perfect rough circles over your clit with his thumb at the same time and you moaned, your back arching in pleasure. Impatient to have him inside you, you reached down between you to free his erection, pushing his pants down past his hips and over the curve of his ass so that he could kick them off the rest of the way. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. You wrapped your fingers around his length and began to stroke him, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your palm. You kept your rhythm steady, your grasp light but not teasing and he moaned, his hips bucking instinctively, chasing the delicious friction of your hand. “Protection?” he panted, and you nodded, releasing him reluctantly so that you could reach over the side of the bed for your bag. You rifled through it until you found what you were looking for and then you turned back to him with a triumphant smile. He kissed you soundly as he plucked the condom from your fingertips, tearing open the wrapper without preamble. He pulled away briefly to roll it on, giving himself a few firm strokes and then he was settling himself between your thighs as if he belonged there. He paused momentarily, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, but finding none. “Yes,” you whispered in answer to his unasked question, pulling him in for another kiss as he flexed his hips, filling you slowly in one smooth, perfect motion that had you gasping his name. He dropped his head to your shoulder, groaning as he withdrew almost entirely, before surging forward again into your tight, wet heat. You clutched at him desperately, one hand at the nape of his neck and the other on his ass, fingers digging in to his flesh, urging him closer still as he began to move, establishing a long, languid rhythm that had you both panting. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he hiked them higher, making you moan as the change in angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper.

He lifted his head to look at your face as he quickened his pace, withdrawing again and plunging back into you, harder than before, your sweat slicked bodies sliding against each other as you moved to meet his thrusts. Already, you could feel the pressure building in you, could tell that your impending orgasm would be earth-shattering. He dropped his head again, his lips grazing your shoulder as you began to tighten around him. You felt like you were drowning in him, the current pulling you under and you surrendered to the feeling, knowing you weren’t alone in it. He breathed your name against your skin as his rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he began to lose a grip on his control. “Come for me,” he pleaded, his voice rough with the strain of holding back, and you obliged, crying out as the world fractured around you, white sparks clouding your vision and your entire body buzzing with pleasure. Your hand tightened in his hair, tugging his head back up so that you could claim his lips with your own. He thrust once, twice more and then he stilled, following your over the edge into endless bliss, his mouth still on yours. Finally he broke away from your kiss, panting as he collapsed onto you, trembling with the aftershock of his orgasm. You lay tangled together, a mass of sweaty limbs, as you both caught your breath. After a long moment he shifted, pressing his lips against yours again, softly, as he pulled out. “Be right back,” he murmured. He got up from the bed and you turned onto your side to watch him go, admiring the view of his naked ass as he padded to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and relieve himself. You rolled on to your front, stretching like a cat, your muscles aching pleasantly. When he was done, you got up to take your own turn in the bathroom. Despite how sweet he had been with you during sex, you were still somewhat surprised when his trademark swagger did not reappear afterward. Instead, when you returned from the bathroom, you found him hovering awkwardly at the side of the bed, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d expect him to go back to the couch. He was still gloriously nude but with pants in hand, clearly debating wether or not he should get dressed. You smiled as you brushed past him, running a hand down his arm and placing a kiss on his shoulder as you gently tugged his pants from his grasp, dropping them to the floor. Then you pulled back the covers and got into bed, moving over to make room for him. Still he hesitated before climbing in, and then he lay rigid and silent beside you, propped up on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. For a split second, you worried that it was regret that had him so tense. Perhaps he thought this had been a mistake. Your heart clenched painfully. It wasn’t just any one night stand for you and it hurt to think he might not feel the same, but then his eyes met yours and you saw the vulnerability he was trying to hide. You suddenly realised that he was afraid too. His uncertainty was both unexpected and incredibly endearing. It was almost laughable, that Nikolai Lanstov could think that you might reject him. You shuffled closer, lifting his arm and placing it around your shoulders so that you could snuggle into his side. He didn’t protest, so you started making yourself comfortable, tucking one arm under yourself and slinging the other low across his belly. He shifted slightly, and you took the opportunity to rest your head on his chest, tangling your legs with his under the covers. When he didn’t relax under you though, you started to second guess yourself and you moved to pull away. His arm tightened around you immediately, keeping you in place. “Is this ok?” You asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him. He nodded, pressing a kiss into your hair as he trailed his fingertips lightly up and down your arm. “You’re sure? Because I’ve been told we shouldn’t cuddle,” you teased and he snorted a laugh, the tension finally leaving his body. “It would hardly be appropriate,” you mimicked in an almost perfect imitation of him, and he had the good grace to blush even as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, totally inappropriate,” he sighed in mock seriousness, but he was smiling as he dipped his head to kiss you. He was beautiful like this, soft and unguarded, now completely relaxed in your embrace. Your heart stuttered in your chest. If he wasn’t careful, he might be very much in danger of making you fall in love with him. “That’s a shame,” you lamented, pouting at him, “I guess that applies to sharing a bath too?” “Hmmm. I suppose I could make an exception,” he said, in the same haughty tone he’d used earlier. You laughed and he gave you a lopsided grin in response. “Later,” he said, pulling you in tighter against him as you settled down to sleep.