- 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 | 𝐃𝐫. 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞.- 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.- 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞.- 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬. “ But no matter the danger, no matter the dreaded challenge that awaits me. I must go forward. “

ᅠ. “Oh 𝘣𝘰𝘺.” Said dryly, as if he can’t wait for what’s coming next. ᅠ.

ᅠ. “Mr. Richards. To what do I owe the pleasure?” . ᅠ.

ᅠ. He assumes she has everything under control? . ᅠ.

ᅠ. 𝘏𝘮. ᅠ.

trouble–” a grin forms now, wicked and dry, “—you’re buying the second bottle.”.

“But for the record–” his eyes flick down to meet hers, affection now plainly visible in their depths, “— your affections are noted. And… 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦. Even if I’m still recovering from the shock of seeing you relaxed.” . A beat of silence, then, “And if we 𝘥𝘰 run into.

But he made a 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. No magic. Not unless it was necessary. It’s… harder than he expected. Still, he’s here. With her. And she’s making it easier to be here. “Wine it is,” he concedes, voice soft as he leans a little closer, forehead almost brushing hers.

Internally, he’s already made half a dozen calculations — how long a portal would take to open to the winery she’d mentioned, how to shield them from onlookers if something supernatural were to interrupt, how quickly he could cast a breeze if the heat picked up.

Her palms rest against his chest, grounding him in a way that’s rare, that almost makes him forget he ever had a title to uphold. His fingers curl gently against the fabric of her dress, thumb brushing once, absent-minded and fond.

The warmth of her cuts through the constant hum of restraint he wears like armor. “You flatter yourself,” he murmurs, glancing down at her with that almost maddening composure, even as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “But… yes. It’s impressive.”.

Stephen lets out a quiet breath, one that’s more of a soft laugh as her fingers toy with his collar and pulls him forward. His hands find her waist with instinctive ease, palms settling against the curve of her hips, holding her like she might vanish if he lets go.

//: to their portrayal of a character, then so be it. I’d never be held to something a weird white man wrote in the 70’s, no matter what “BeastByAnyName” thinks on X.

//: Returning from my leave of this wretched place to say this is the dumbest shit I’ve seen in a long time. Several iterations and stories are outdated, written in bad faith, and have been retconned. If a writer would not like to have pedophilia as canon.

ᅠ. them. “Lead the way, then, tour guide. Just promise me this — if trouble finds us, let me finish my coffee first.” . ᅠ.

ᅠ. her, the energy between them light but charged. “No security, no permission,” he echoes, his voice lowering slightly as his smirk returns. “You’re determined to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?” . He gestures toward the horizon, the glittering sea stretching out before . ᅠ.

ᅠ. closes the distance, the playfulness in his tone giving way to something softer. “Tour guide by day, agent of unpredictability by night,” he muses. “I should’ve known this trip wouldn’t come with an itinerary.” . His casual attire catches the breeze as he steps toward . ᅠ.

ᅠ. “Wong in a sundress?” he repeats, feigning contemplation. “I’ll admit, the image is striking, but I don’t think even he could manage to pull off the kind of chaos you manage to leave in your wake.” . He sets down the cup on the low table, his gaze meeting hers as she . ᅠ.

ᅠ. Stephen glances over the rim of his coffee cup, the faintest smirk curling at his lips as her teasing words settle between them. The sunlight catches the edges of her hair as she moves closer, her every step deliberate, effortlessly commanding his attention. ᅠ.

RT @redeemingshadow:

RT @MaPfelgen: