#I was supposed to put up my halloween decorations today

[bandsandwristbands]

Maaaaawaaybe Gaalee first kiss? S'il te plaaaaît?

There are an infinite amount of ways I picture their first kiss but in every one Lee asks politely and Gaara is extremely autistic (but thrilled) about it

Also I imagine they have the sort of relationship that slowly blurs into romantic before either of them realize it so exactly when they kiss for the first time is hard to pin point in my brain as well lol

And they're both freaks who kiss with their eyes open bcuz theyre obsessed with each other

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3 Originally, I was going to make this a half-chapter because I wrote this on my phone while at work, but I decided I'm a bitch who doesn't do half-chapters. Anyway, here's this one. Sorry for any mistakes, it was slightly rushed because I wanted to get something out there since I've been away from the keyboard for a good moment!

Nanny in The Attic

Alfred had asked you to get some spring decorations from the attic, and you were happy to oblige. You loved decorating, it brought a sense of wonderment to your life that was otherwise filled with the endless tasks of being a caretaker. So, you took to the attic like a moth to a flame. There were boxes upon boxes, old coats strewn about, a creepy-looking rocking horse in one corner, and copious amounts of dust. 

“The box is labeled but I couldn’t tell you where the damned thing is,” Alfred said as he flipped on the light. “If you like, you could wait until I return. It might be easier.” 

You waved him off as you ventured further into the room. “No, no. You’re a busy man, Alfred. Plus, the kids are at school, and this will give me something to do today.”

“Very well, then, have at it,” The old man said, heading towards the attic stairs. “Master Bruce is working from home today, and there’s an intercom on the wall over there if you want to call for help should you need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

You looked over to where the butler was pointing. “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get fancier. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave, he left. You began to pull apart the attic in search of the alleged spring decor, and it seemed almost hopeless. There were just too many boxes. There was Christmas (which you couldn’t wait to see), Halloween, and just about every holiday decor that had ever existed. Some boxes were full of pictures and jewelry. You took a peek into some, just out of pure curiosity, and were amazed by just how old some of these things were.

Then, you stumbled onto one box that had photo albums from within the past thirty years and decided to look through them. It took you very little time to realize that these were albums of Mr. Wayne’s family.

You smiled, looking at a smaller version of your boss, as you realized just how much Damian looked like him. You also noted just how much Bruce looked like his father. Eerily so. That had to do something to his psyche. His mother was a beauty, too. You found her headshot sitting right under one of the photo albums. She had curly reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Bruce’s. Mr. And Mrs. Wayne were a handsome couple with the world at their feet, but that was cut short the day they died. You were almost too young to remember but could recall some family member bursting into the kitchen to announce that the Wayne family had been murdered. It wasn’t entirely true, only Mr. And Mrs. Wayne had been killed— leaving behind a traumatized little boy. 

“Poor Mr. Wayne,” you said to yourself before putting the albums back. “Now, where in the hell is that box?” 

You looked around the room, eyes scanning when you saw it. The box was high up on a shelf labeled ‘spring’ in black Sharpie. After moving some more boxes out of the way, you began to make a path so it would be easier to move. It was going to be so easy and perfect, you thought. Once all the boxes were out of the way, you could grab the step ladder and get what you needed. 

Setting the ladder up, you climbed it, but the box was still just out of reach. You supposed that the shelf could support some of your weight, so you lifted your leg to step onto it. What you hadn’t seen was an old broken vase jutting out from one of the boxes. You felt the pain of it cutting into your leg before you knew what it was. With a cry, you fell back hard onto the floor. 

“Ow, ow,” you said, pushing yourself up. Looking down at your leg, blood was streaming from the wound. Alfred would not be happy about this, you thought. Putting your hand over the cut so not all the blood would drip onto the floor, you awkwardly made your way over to the intercom. 

You had no clue how to use it and began pressing buttons. 

“Mr. Wayne,” you would say when it sounded like you got through to a room. “Mr. Wayne, are you there?”

Finally, after about ten minutes, you got a voice coming through the other end, “Everything alright?”

“Aha! Mr. Wayne, I cut my leg pretty bad and think I need a first aid kit. Could I trouble you to bring me one?” 

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Before you could say anything back, the line went dead. 

Grumbling to yourself, you made your way to the attic stairs to sit and wait for your rescue. Blood was pooling between your fingers, and you could feel it slowly get closer to your socks. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” You looked up to see Mr. Wayne rushed up the attic steps with an aid kit in hand before stopping right in front of you. “Alright, let me see.” 

You moved your hand to the side, but couldn’t bring yourself to see just how bad it was. He put his hand on your knee to keep your leg steady, and you couldn’t help but notice just how big and warm his hand was. 

“Luckily, you don’t need stitches, just a clean-up and some bandages.” 

“What should I do?” You asked, hands already going for the kit. 

Bruce didn’t let you get close enough to grab it before he picked it up. He didn’t say anything as picked out the hydrogen peroxide, some ointment, and bandages. Pouring a little of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he slowly started to wipe at your leg. You yelped from the sudden sting and pushed his hand away. 

“Stop it, that hurts,” you said meekly. “Ow! Bruce, please.”

He stopped to look at you, eyes meeting yours and thumb starting to trace small circles on your knee, before speaking, “Sorry, just hold still. It won’t take much longer.” 

He began to dab the cotton ball back on the wound again, and this time you were prepared for the sting. As he worked on your wound, you stared at him. Mr. Wayne wasn’t just a handsome man, but he was pretty, too. He had the type of looks that befitted a character in a fantasy novel rather than a traumatized rich boy. His eyes, though, were such an intense blue that they were hard not to look at.

You thought out loud, “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Bruce whipped his head up to look at you, eyes narrowing. “What?” 

You tried to not let the embarrassment show through. It was a fact that just so happened to slip from your mouth. “You have your mother’s eyes. I saw a picture of her earlier.” 

Bruce broke his gaze and continued working on your leg, now putting the bandage on. “Oh.” 

“Do you remember your parents?” You asked. 

“Yes,” He said after a minute. “Everyone said I looked like my father, but he saw more of my mother.” 

You giggled and took his hand when he offered to help you up. “She must have loved that.” 

“Oh, she did.” For the first time, you saw Bruce smile genuinely. A smile for himself instead of the kids or you. “That’s why she wanted a girl after me, but they never got around to it.” 

“Can’t picture you as an older brother,” you said as you wandered over to the shelf. 

Bruce didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. He offered to get the box down for you, saying that you didn’t need to be reaching up or doing anything else on your leg. You weren’t going to complain and let him get the box. 

“Good thing you called me,” He said with a grunt. “It’s heavy. Now, where do you want it?” 

“The living room would be a good place to start,” you said before you checked the time. You still had a couple of hours before the kids got home, but thought that perhaps you could wait. “Maybe I should wait for the kids. They may want to help.” 

“Alfred would rather burn the manor down.” 

You could imagine it. Mr. Wayne brought the kids up in a way that they were very creative, and you could only imagine how that would transfer over in the decor. Alfred was too neat of a person for that. 

Mr. Wayne set the box down on the living room coffee table, making a cloud of dust come up from the box, before turning to you. You smiled kindly and thanked him. He nodded before heading towards the door, he stopped halfway before turning to you. 

“Make sure you clean your wound, you wouldn’t want it to get infected.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” 

He nodded before finally leaving you. You looked back down at the decoration in your hands and huffed. It’d be a lot of work, but if you wouldn’t get it done. 

And, you did as such. By the time Alfred got home with the kids later that afternoon, he was shocked by just how well you did. The whole house was overflowing with spring delight to the point that he began to ask how you managed such a task. You only told him you had magic hands before you went to tend to the children. They were happy to see you, all of them clamoring about, and noted the bandage on your leg. 

“I got in a fight with a bear today,” you said. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a liar.” 

Bruce suddenly popped into the kitchen where all of you were. “It’s true. I was there. I helped fight off the bear.” 

“Are there even bears in New Jersey?” Jason asked, curiously. 

Duke, on the other hand, looked horrified, “Why are there bears in the backyard, Dad?” 

You were quick to tell him that the two of you were only kidding, that the cut really just came from an accident. Duke seemed relieved, while the other kids were a bit disappointed. When they all ran off to do their own things, Bruce quickly stopped you from joining them. 

“Next time you decide to decorate, let me know in advance.” 

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary, actually. What I don’t like is anyone in my household getting hurt.”

You nodded, trying to reason with yourself as to why you had butterflies in your stomach. 

[livwritesstuff]

Steve reaches the top of the stairs on his way to get ready for bed when he hears the weary call of his husband from the other end of the hall.

“Steeeve,” Eddie groans, “Rescue me please.”

He’s in Hazel’s room, Steve can tell, which probably means that tonight is another night in a long string of failures to get their three-year-old into bed at a reasonable time (seriously – their older two went to sleep without any issues hours ago, but their sweet Hazel James has been in a phase of doing everything she can to avoid her bedtime).

Indeed, Steve walks into their youngest daughter’s bedroom to see that Eddie is the one blinking bleary eyes at him while Hazel, on the other hand, is wide awake and standing on her mattress in her Halloween pumpkin pajamas (yes, it’s June – very few battles are won by Steve and Eddie these days).

“Uh-oh,” Steve warns her, ”You’re putting Daddy to sleep, sweet girl. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, first I hafta show Daddy all the places I got hurt today,” she replies, coming up right to the edge of her bed so Steve really has no choice but to pull her in for a snuggle.

“Where’d you get hurt today,” he asks her.

“Don’t,” Eddie mumbles, an arm over his face shielding his eyes from the light of Hazel’s lamp, “It’s a trap.”

But Hazel is already wiggling out of Steve’s arms, backing away just far enough to push her sleeve up and reveal the impressive collection of colorful, patterned bandages decorating her arm.

Earlier this week, Hazel had discovered the magical power of Band-Aids (in other words, she fell and was completely inconsolable until Eddie suggested putting a princess Band-Aid on the nonexistent “owie” – surprise, surprise, the agonizing pain disappeared without a trace almost immediately).

Now, she’s practically covered in the damn things.

“Look,” Hazel says, pointing at a princess band-aid by her wrist, “‘Dis is where I fell and a stick poked my arm.”

“A stick poked your arm?” he repeats.

“Uh-huh, so now you gotta give it a kiss.”

Obviously, Steve obliges, planting a dramatic kiss onto the plastic band-aid.

“All better?” he asks her.

“Yep. And then this one –” Hazel points at a Ninja Turtle band-aid up by her elbow (Steve’s gotta make sure Robbie doesn’t see that one or her six-year-old version of hell will rain down on all of them), “This is where I got stung-ed by a bug.”

Steve kisses that one too, and then Hazel hits him with a pretty fantastic yawn.

“You wanna come cuddle in bed with me and Daddy?” he asks quietly. She nods, and as he scoops her up, Eddie grumbles something that gets muffled into his arm.

“What was that?” he asks (only a little sarcastically). Eddie drops his arm and lifts his head to look Steve dead in the eye.

“You’re a goddamn sucker,” he repeats.

“Let’s go,” Steve ignores him, holding out the hand not holding Hazel. Eddie takes it and lets Steve pull him to his feet, and then they head off to bed.

[kwanisms]

Just Like That — h.joshua

» seventeen masterlist «

playlist: fever — enhypen; light a flame — seventeen; sexuality — taemin ➮ incubus!Joshua × f!reader wc: 16k summary: fantasizing about her handsome and sweet coworker has some unintended consequences for Y/N when an incubus shows up in her home after unintentionally summoning him with what she thought was just gibberish. genres/themes/au: angst, one sided pining, smut; religious themes, supernatural themes, demonic themes; non idol au, demon au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @deadgirlwalking3 seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @drunk-on-dk @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @98-0603 @briannabk22 @vampiirose @plants-w0rld @dementedaly @generic-teez-127 @sweetlylemon unable to tag: @prestineaugstine @imwhoever @lunaryoongie join my taglists: main Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.  AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED. 

a/n: this is just pure filth and I won't apologize lol I did this to torture the bestie. It was supposed to be a timestamps lol and it turned into 16k. Thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

A huge thank you to @kpop-stories-21 & @anyamaris for sprinting with me back to back and essentially keeping me company while I worked on this 💕

Translation notes: Cur curritis is google translate latin for ‘why are you running?’ disclaimer: I do not know latin so this could be wildly inaccurate because it’s google translate. Likewise, Mortalem te interro- gavi is what I got for ‘i asked you a question, mortal.’ Again, I don’t know latin. I just used google translate. I’m not going for accuracy here lol. The incantation, Te invoco a profundus inferni is from Supernatural lol

smut warnings: unprotected sex (pls use protection), tentacles, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, doll, angel, slut, etc), marking (f receiving), spanking (f receiving) , spitting, choking (f receiving) , fingering (f receiving), slight somnophilia, rough sex, anal, double penetration, multiple orgasms (f receiving), creampie, breeding kink, big d!ck!Joshua being a menace to my sanity, dom!Shua, sub!Reader, and I think that's everything but of course, let me know if I missed something!

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Autumn was in the air. The mornings had become chilly, frosty dew covered grass crunching underfoot that gave way to cool days, the sun warming just enough but not burning. The scent of the holidays hung in the air as you noticed decor going up on your way to work in the mornings.

The only coffee shop in town had finally put up their fall menu and despite how much flack you got for it, you were excited that the pumpkin cakes and warm vanilla chai lattes with a sprinkle of cinnamon and Halloween themed foam designs were back. On your days off, you could enjoy a steaming mug, adoring the jack-o-lantern face staring back at you from atop your drink.

On days like today, you opted for the to-go version of your favorite vanilla latte, grabbing an americano as well as two slices of pumpkin cake, topped with chopped candied walnuts. The bell rang, the sound crystal clear as you exited the shop and headed down the sidewalk littered with fallen leaves in various shades of browns, oranges, and yellows.

Children hurried on by, on their way to school as you walked, rounding the corner and heading for the end of the block where the antique shop you worked at stood, the old brick building stood. It was a much older building than the ones that stood around it, the brick darker and more weatherworn.

You let out a sigh, breath hanging briefly in the cool air as you looked at the storefront. White and black striped awnings hung over the large windows, gold lettering adorning the glass in a curly script that read ‘Pandora’s Box’. You crossed the cobblestone street, heading for the old wooden door and pressed down on the handle. It turned under your hand and allowed you to enter the shop.

A soft bell rang out and immediately you could hear shuffling coming from the back of the shop.

“Sorry!” a voice called out. “We’re closed!” You ignored the voice as you moved around behind the front counter and set down both coffees and the paper bag with the pumpkin cake. You were taking off your coat when your coworker and owner of the voice appeared and glanced over at you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, perking up and straightening his tan colored apron. You fought the urge to giggle as he walked over to the door and peered outside the window before turning the lock and looking over at you. “Thought I locked that when I came in,” he said as you removed your scarf and hung it up with your coat on the hook behind your seat.

“What’s this?” Joshua asked, looking down at the two coffees. You picked yours up and took a sip before picking the second one up and held it out for him. “You got me coffee?” he asked, taking the cup gently from you. “Hot americano, extra cream,” you answered, setting your cup down. “I also got us some-” you were interrupted by a sharp knocking at the window of the door.

Both you and Joshua turned to look and saw an older woman standing at the door. It was the elderly woman that lived out on Broome street. “Isn’t that the cat lady?” Joshua whispered, turning his head to look at you as he set his cup down. “Mrs. Briggs,” you reminded him.

Joshua moved to the door and unlocked it, opening the door and no doubt giving the grumpy old woman a pleasant smile. “How can I help you Mrs. Briggs?” he asked in his sweet voice. The old woman wore a very old fur coat that was a bit ratty, almost as if it hadn’t been taken proper care of.

Under the brown fur, she wore a mustard yellow turtleneck sweater with a long brown skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Under she had brown stockings and some brown low heels. She had all of her gray hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun complete with a yellow scrunchie. In her hands she carried a basket full of different knick knacks and trinkets.

“I need to drop these off,” she said in a gruff voice as she attempted to push past Joshua who blocked her path. She looked up at him, lips parted in a look of pure shock. “Who are you?” she demanded. Joshua gave her his famous smile. The one that had all the girls in the coffee shop swooning or the high school girls giggling as he passed by.

Joshua had only lived in this town for a few years now. He moved into the space above the shop which was owned by his aunt. His uncle had originally run the shop but after his uncle got sick and passed away, Joshua moved in to help his aunt out. He was only supposed to be in town for a short time but he decided to stay after a year. 

Joshua smiled at Mrs. Briggs. “It’s Joshua, Mrs. Briggs,” he reminded her. She looked positively outraged. “Well where is Bill?” she demanded angrily. “Uncle Bill passed away three years ago, Miriam,” you said, moving from behind the counter and approaching the door.

Upon seeing you, Mrs. Briggs looked much calmer. “Y/N!” she said desperately. You sent a subtle wink Joshua’s way and took over, keeping the old woman at the door. “I need to drop this off. I can’t have it in the house anymore,” she said, holding out the basket. You nodded, looking down and back up.

“Okay, Miriam. Let me just get my pad of paper and we’ll take care of it,” you said, turning to grab the pad from the counter. In your momentary lapse, Mrs. Briggs had managed to push the door open. Joshua moved forward but you waved him off. “I got this,” you mouthed as the woman set her basket on the counter. Joshua nodded and started to head to the back when you called him back, holding out his coffee and the paper sack.

He took them from you and you told him you’d eat your pumpkin cake later.

It took all of ten minutes to check in all the items Mrs. Briggs had brought in and when you were done, you gently ushered her to the door and waved her off before shutting and locking the door. Joshua reappeared, peering around. “You think after three years, she’d know who I am,” he said, moving to lean on the counter as you finished adding the items to the store’s inventory.

“She’s got Alzheimer’s,” you said softly as you worked. Joshua said nothing, watching you write instead. When you finished the line you were on, he finally spoke. “Sorry,” he whispered. You glanced up as you capped the pen and smiled at him. “It’s okay,” you responded, setting the pen aside and flipping the page to a new sheet. “She’s a mean old lady, even before her diagnosis. Very pushy and rude,” you replied as you started to place the items back in the basket.

Joshua moved to help you. “Did she want the basket back?” he asked as you worked together. You shook your head. “No,” you said with a chuckle. “The only thing Mrs. Briggs has more than cats are baskets. I don’t think she’ll be missing this one.” You gave him a wink and made to grab the handles. He stopped you, taking the basket himself. “I got this,” he said and nodded towards the back.

“Your slice of pumpkin cake is in the back. I’ll finish opening up, you go eat.”

You smiled, thanking him before heading to the break room in the back. It wasn’t so much a room as it was an area blocked off. There was a small kitchenette with a mini fridge, microwave, and a sink. In the middle of the space was a small round table with three wooden chairs. Sitting on the table was the paper sack. You washed your hands quickly and took a seat, opening the bag.

The pumpkin cake was delicious as always and you savored each bite. As you were finishing it, Joshua’s voice rang out from the front. “I’m going to open the shop!” he called. You stuffed the last bite of cake in your mouth and got up, tossing the paper sack in the bin and washed your hands, chewing hastily as you dried your hands and hurried back to the front.

Joshua stood behind the counter and looked up as you approached. “You didn’t have to come up here,” he chuckled as you grabbed your own apron from under the counter and put it on. “I was finished anyway,” you replied, attempting to tie your apron strings. Joshua laughed softly and moved to stand behind you. “Here,” he said softly, taking the ties from you and carefully tying them.

“It’s a lot easier when you have help,” he said, his voice soft and breath hitting the back of your neck.

Your cheeks burned and you were thankful he couldn’t see the way you drew your bottom lip between your teeth or hear the way your heart hammered in your chest or feel the heat rush to your core.

“There,” he said simply and moved to grab the paper he’d been reading. “All set.”

You forced a smile, turning your head before moving to your usual spot behind the counter and taking a seat on the stool.

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this reaction to Joshua and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you’d had more than one fantasy about your coworker. It was his fault really for being so nice and polite and sweet. Not to mention incredibly handsome and when he pushed his sleeves up, exposing his forearms, you could feel your panties stick to you every time he did something so effortlessly. 

It was no secret half the women in town found Joshua attractive and you were one of them. Unfortunately for you, he was your coworker and although Bill wasn’t around anymore, Joshua seemed to adhere to the strict no dating coworkers policy Bill had. Of course, Bill was married and he was usually the only one in the shop until you joined.

You weren’t in the habit of dating bosses so you never cared much about the policy but now it was driving you mad. Especially during the times it felt like Joshua was flirting with you though you never truly knew for sure if he was serious or just being playful. It was hard to tell with him.

The morning flew by after opening the shop. It wasn’t like you were busy. Most of the customers that came in only wanted to look around and very few ever bought anything. Sometimes you’d have town residents come by and drop off their old things. Most of your job was cashiering and inventory.

Joshua did most of the restoration work that came with old furniture as well as other physical tasks like carrying the larger items out to customers’ cars or moving large furniture items to make space for new items. When you weren't busy ringing someone up or filling out an inventory sheet, you’d find yourself watching Joshua work, admiring the way he lifted things with ease. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater hours ago, exposing his forearms and the veins that peeked out whenever he exerted any force.

You tried not to make it obvious you were staring but sometimes he’d glance over and catch you, prompting you to turn your gaze back to the crossword puzzle you were absentmindedly filling out with bogus answers in pencil. When you looked away, you missed the way Joshua’s smile turned into more of a smirk. He knew you were watching him and he knew he had an effect on you to some extent.

But not the full extent.

He didn’t know how you sometimes thought about him late at night as you teased yourself with your fingers or how you imagined it was his fingers as you pushed them into your aching heat. He didn’t know it was him that you dreamed about riding or that you wondered how his cock tasted.

And he never would.

The sun had started to set when Joshua finally locked the front door. You stretched your arms above your head, letting out the tiniest of squeaks as he walked over. “You can head home,” he said, leaning against the counter, resting his palms against the surface.

“I can close up here,” he added. You shook your head. “It’s okay, you answered. “I don’t have any plans.” Joshua tilted his head, trying to hold back a smirk. “No exciting hot dates?” he asked as you opened the register. You snorted, shaking your head. “No,” you replied.

“Why not?” he asked as you started to count the bills in the till. You looked up to meet his gaze. You hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “Uh…” you trailed off as you stopped counting. “I guess I just haven’t met someone,” you answered. Joshua’s head tilted the opposite way at that.

“You haven’t?” he pressed. It seemed like he was trying to make a point but you weren’t sure what he expected you to say. You shook your head. “Well,” you continued. “Not anyone that’s available,” you added softly, turning your gaze back down to continue counting.

You finished counting the bills and moved onto the change as Joshua watched you. When you finished and wrote down the total, adding it to the records book, Joshua finally spoke. “How about we finish up here and then go get dinner,” he offered. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you turned away from the shelf where you stored the records book.

Turning to look at him, you found him already looking at you, a smile and expectant look.

“O-okay,” you said softly, mentally cursing yourself for stammering. Joshua smiled and turned away before heading to the back of the shop to make sure everything was locked up while you pulled out the profits from the register and placed them into a bank bag and headed for the back where you found Joshua grabbing the broom. “Here,” you said, holding out the bank bag.

He looked up as he separated the dustpan from the broom. He nodded towards the door that led upstairs. “Just set it up on the counter up there,” he said as he moved past you for the door back into the shop. “What?” you asked, turning as he stopped at the door. “Just put it on the kitchen counter up here,” he said with a smile. You glanced at the door to the stairs and then back at Joshua.

“You mean in your apartment?”

He nodded, the smile spreading. “Yeah,” he answered. “Here.” You watched as he reached into his pocket and fished out his keys before tossing them to you. “Just let yourself in.”

With that, he disappeared into the front and left you standing in the break area. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the door and took hold of the knob. ‘You got this Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘It’s just his apartment.’ 

You turned the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked softly as you peered into the dimly lit hall. The bottom landing was small and immediately went into the staircase. You shut the door behind you and started up the stairs, each step creaking under foot.

At the top, you managed to pick out the right key and unlocked the door before pushing it open.

Whatever you’d been expecting, it was not this. You’d only ever seen this space once and it was a mostly empty space with a few furniture items stored up here. It was dusty, dark save for the large glass windows at the back of the space that looked out into a small courtyard that backed up to a wooded area. The space had been transformed into a functional studio apartment.

A kitchen had been installed, brown counters with white quartz tops lined the wall against the stairs. A kitchen island separated the kitchen space from the living space. Facing a brick wall was a comfortable looking sofa with a low table between it and a media stand where a large flatscreen stood.

You walked further into the apartment, shutting the door behind you as you continued to look around.

The media stand held numerous DVDs and knick knacks. A knitted blanket lay folded over the arm of the cream colored couch with warm brown accent pillows. On the coffee table sat a small mirrored tray with a gold rim. In the middle was a small tv remote and a couple candles.

Against the wall under the windows stood a side table running the length of one of the windows. It had doors with small brass knobs and most likely held an assortment of different things. ‘Probably storage,’ you told yourself as you turned away from the living room. 

Behind the couch was a partition wall that didn’t reach the ceiling. It was made of bamboo and straight geometric shapes with a sheer material on one side to create a separate bedroom space.

The bed was a large king size, wooden frame with clawed feet. You recognized it as one of the pieces that had been stored up here before. Joshua must have cleaned and restored it because the last time you saw it, the wood was dull and coated with a thick layer of dust. 

At the end of the bed was a small bench with a folded blanket and a space to sit. Oh either side of the bed were matching nightstands in matching wood to the bed frame. The bed linens were creams and browns, both neutral but cozy and inviting. 

Next to the bedroom space at the end of the kitchen was a small folding door housing what you assumed was a pantry and next to that was another door which you could only assume led to a bathroom. 

Between the bed and the bathroom stood a large armoire with double doors. It was another piece that you recognized being stored in the space and just like the bed frame, Joshua cleaned and restored it so it was almost unrecognizable.

Next to the armoire in the corner was a full length mirror leaning against the wall. The top was decorated with postcards and a few pictures. Before you had a chance to move closer and take a look, you heard the door behind you open and spun around to find Joshua entering the apartment.

The two of you stared at one another for a moment before he spoke. “I’m done downstairs,” he commented. “Thought you might have gotten lost,” he added with a smirk. You shook your head, still holding the bank bag. Joshua nodded towards it. “You gonna hold onto that?” he asked, amused when you quickly set it down on the kitchen island.

“Shall we then?” he asked, nodding towards the door. You nodded without another word and headed for the door quickly, much to his amusement. Joshua stopped you with his hand on your arm gently. You looked down at his hand and up to meet his gaze. He held out his other hand.

“Keys?” he asked simply. You dropped them in his hand and headed down the stairs as he chuckled to himself, closing the door and locking it before following you.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as you reached the landing. You nodded again. “Yeah,” you managed to say as he led the way into the front of the shop. “How does Italian sound?” he asked as you grabbed your things, pulling on your coat and scarf. You nodded, heading for the door as he followed.

“Italian sounds fine.”

Once the shop was locked up, the walk to the Italian restaurant didn’t take much time at all. It was a small place with only about 5 tables and a small bar. It was nestled between a bakery and butcher shop, all owned by the same family. Joshua held the door for you with a smile as you thanked him and stepped inside.

You’d been to this place maybe once or twice in the whole time you’d lived in this town. It had been owned by the same family for generations and was currently being run by the grandchildren of the original owner. A young girl at the host stand smiled as you entered the building.

“Just two?” she asked. Joshua nodded as she gathered the menus and silverware, rolled up into black cloth napkins. She tucked the menus and silverware into her arm and picked up a pen, jotting something down on a piece of paper on the host stand before smiling at the two of you. “Right this way!”

She led you to a smaller table in the corner meant for couples. All the tables were round, most seating about four patrons. There was a small room off the main dining area with a much larger table meant for bigger parties. Along the wall were smaller tables with two chairs each and at the back was the bar. A long window allowed a look into the kitchen where you could catch glimpses of workers passing by.

A door at the far corner opposite your table allowed workers in and out of the kitchen. You removed your coat, laying it across the back of your chair and sat down as Joshua did the same and the hostess set the menus and silverware down on the table. “What can I get you started to drink?” she asked as you both settled into your seats.

“Just water,” you answered, not in the mood for soda or coffee. Joshua smiled at the hostess as he glanced over the drink menu. “A glass of cabernet, please,” he said politely. He turned to look at you. “You sure you just want water?” he asked, tilting his head. You looked down at the menu, eyes scanning before finding something that sounded good. “I’ll just have a limoncello martini,” you said, looking up at the hostess who smiled and nodded. “I’ll go put those in and your server will be by soon,” she chirped.

“And I’ll still bring you that water,” she added with a wink your way before heading off.

You looked down at the menu, flipping it over to look at the entrees. The menu wasn’t huge but they had a lot of options to choose from. As your eyes scanned, you could feel eyes on you and glanced up through your lashes to find Joshua already doing the same. He glanced back down, a smirk tugging at his lips. You looked back down, trying to finalize your decision.

“I can’t choose,” you heard him say softly. “I’m stuck between the tuscan-grilled sirloin or the mezzaluna,” he added, glancing up to meet your gaze. “Well they have an option to do both,” you offered, looking over the combinations. “You could get a 7 oz sirloin and a half order of mezzaluna,” you read off the menu. “That way you don’t have to choose.”

Joshua nodded as he looked at the menu. “What are you getting?” he asked softly, looking up once more. “The chicken,” you answered, setting your menu down as the host returned, setting two glasses of water down. You thanked her and picked it up, taking a sip. “Which chicken?” Joshua asked as he lifted his own glass, keeping his eyes trained on you.

Before you could answer, the server arrived. She was around the same age as the hostess and looked like she could be an older sister. “Hey,” she said breathlessly and you could only assume she’d been running all over the restaurant, serving multiple tables. “Your drinks should be coming from the bar in just a moment,” she said as she pulled out a pad and a pen. “Would you like to start with an appetizer?” she asked, looking between the two of you.

Before you could say anything, Joshua answered.

I’d actually like to get an order of the cozze in bianco,” he said without even looking at the menu. “I’ve tried just about every other starter but I haven’t tried the mussels,” he added. The server smiled as she jotted that down. “They’re really good,” she answered. “I’m not just saying that cause I work here,” she continued. “They’re genuinely delicious. It’s my grandma’s recipe,” she added.

You looked up, intrigue written across your face. “You’re part of the family?” you asked. She nodded with a proud smile. “Fourth generation,” she clarified. “My great grandparents started the place. My grandparents just retired and now my uncle and dad are running the place,” she explained, pointing at two men behind the bar.

“My sister is one of the hosts,” she added, pointing to the host stand where the hostess who had seated you stood. “I thought you might be related,” you said with a triumphant smile. It felt good knowing your instincts were spot on. “Yeah!” the server said. “Anyway, I’ll get this in,” she said, tapping the pad with her pen. “Then I’ll grab your drinks and come back to take your meal order,” she added with a smile and an “I’ll be right back.”

Once she left, Joshua turned to look at you. “I guess it really is a family business,” he said with an amused tone. You nodded, uncertain of what to say. Silence fell over the two of you as you waited for the server to return. You glanced up from the menu to find Joshua reading over the list of wines. “So,” you said softly, drawing his attention away from the paper.

“You’ve been here a lot?” you asked. Joshua smiled, setting the wine list down. “Been here? Sort of,” he answered. “This place is right around the corner from the shop,” he started to explain as you took another sip of water. “It’s perfect for getting carryout,” he added. “I’ll just call and place an order and then come pick it up and take it home.”

You listened patiently as he explained. “I don’t go out much,” he continued. You tilted your head as he spoke. “How come?” Joshua looked up from the table, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know many people,” he admitted softly. “So you just stay in your apartment?” you questioned.

He nodded slowly. “Sometimes I go visit my aunt but my cousin recently moved back in with her and we don’t exactly…” he trailed off, thinking of the right words. “Get along.” Before you could ask any more, the server returned with your drinks, setting the wine in front of Joshua and the cocktail in front of you.

“So,” she said with a smile as she pulled out her notepad and pen. “What can I get you?”

After ordering, your conversation with Joshua shifted to other things. You talked about what he did in his spare time, discussing his taste in movies, books, and more. It was the most you’d ever gotten the chance to speak to him but it was nice to learn more about the man you spent half your day with four days a week. You wanted to consider Joshua a friend and hoped he could do the same.

The food was amazing. The mussels were cooked to perfection and though you were never big on them, Joshua got you to try at least one and you were surprised by how good it was. Your meals arrived just as you were finishing the last of your appetizers.

His steak looked incredible and he’d asked for marsala sauce on top. Your chicken was juicy and tender and the lemon butter sauce was perfect. You were glad you decided to forgo the capers in the end. The portions were just right and you were left feeling full but not stuffed at the end.

As your server took your empty dishes, she asked if you had saved room for dessert. Joshua glanced at you. “We’ll look over the menu,” he said and she nodded, moving to take your empty plates away. Joshua looked over the dessert menu. “I don’t think I could any more,” you commented. “Not without hating myself afterwards.” Joshua snorted and handed the menu to you.

“We could always split something,” he offered. 

You looked over the page, eyes scanning the sheet. There were staples like tiramisu and cannolis but there were also unique twists on traditional pieces like a cannoli cake. You spotted a chocolate cake as well as cheesecake. “I’m not sure,” you said softly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth before handing the menu back. “You decide. I’m sure whatever you pick will be delicious,” you added.

Joshua looked over the menu as the server returned. “Made a decision?” she asked to which Joshua nodded. “One slice of the cannoli cake,” he answered, handing her the menu. “We’ll take it to go,” he added and she nodded, moving to put in the order and bring the check. You moved to open your bag but Joshua stopped you. “This is on me,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.

“No, it’s okay!” you said as you pulled your own wallet out. Joshua shook his head. “I insist,” he said more firmly. “I asked you to join me. It’s my treat,” he continued. Sensing you weren’t going to win this argument, you let him have his victory.

When the server returned with the check, Joshua immediately handed her his card and she walked away. While she was gone, you replaced your wallet in your bag and looked up to meet Joshua’s gaze. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For dinner.” Joshua returned the smile as the server returned with his card and the cannoli cake slice already bagged up.

Joshua signed the slip as the server smiled at you. “How was everything?” she asked.

“Oh it was amazing,” you answered as you finished your cocktail. “Better than I remembered,” you added. “Thank you so much,” Joshua said as he slipped a couple bills out of his wallet and tucked them behind the signed slip and handed them to the server. “The food and the service was incredible as always,” he added. The server thanked both of you before walking away.

Joshua stood up and grabbed his coat. You stood up quickly, gathering your things as he grabbed the togo bag and led the way to the door.

Outside, the sun had fully set behind the trees and the streetlamps outside had turned on. You pulled your coat on, noticing the chill that had set in. Joshua had already pulled his coat on and was watching as you slung your scarf around your neck. “Well, I should get home,” you said breathlessly. 

Joshua gave you a peculiar look. “Don’t you want to come up and try this?” he asked, holding up the to-go bag. “We got it to split,” he reminded you.

Although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you agreed and followed Joshua down the sidewalk and around the corner. The shop loomed over the both of you in the darkness, only one dim streetlamp illuminating the space in front of it as Joshua reached the door and pulled out his keys.

He unlocked the door and stepped in, allowing you to enter after him. As he shut the door your eye fell on the basket on the counter. You were almost one hundred percent certain that hadn’t been there when you both left earlier. “Uh… what’s that?” you asked as Joshua closed and locked the door.

He looked to where you were pointing, setting the bag on the counter and moving to the basket.

“It almost looks like Mrs. Briggs basket,” he said as he grabbed the handle and pulled it towards him. “But the items are different.” You watched as he sifted through the items. “Could you uh…” he asked, turning to look at you. “I hate to ask since we’ve already closed up and it is pretty late, but could you inventory this for me?,” he continued. 

“I really should learn how to do it myself.”

You nodded, moving around the counter to grab your pad and pen. You watched as he pulled each item  out and set them on the counter. “None of these items are the same as the ones Mrs. Briggs brought earlier,” you said softly as you started to write down the items and the descriptions.

Your eyes fell onto a small statuette and you set your pen down before grabbing it and looking at it.

In the low light you could tell it was very old. It was a small animal statue. The material you couldn’t discern but it almost felt ceramic. It was a cute little calico kitty. You looked it over but couldn’t find any manufacturer or name. “Huh,” you huffed as you set it down, drawing Joshua’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You looked up at him. “This little statue,” you replied, gesturing to the cat. Joshua picked it up and turned it to face him. “What about it?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know actually,” you said softly. “It just caught my eye.”

Joshua glanced up at you and back to the figurine in his hand. He set it back down in front of you. “Tell you what,” he said softly. “You can have it.” You looked up from the notepad, eyes wide. “What? Really?” you asked. He nodded and shrugged. “It’s just a little cat figurine,” he added. “Keep it,” he said.

You thanked him and went back to finishing inventorying all the items. When you were done and the basket packed back up save for your little calico figure, you followed Joshua up to his apartment where he started to unpack the slice of cake. The two of you stood around the kitchen island. “Here,” Joshua said, handing you a fork and using his own to take a bite.

You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, sighing in contentment. “That’s really good,” he murmured, turning to find you watching him. “Try it,” he urged, pushing the plate towards you. You gently stabbed your fork into the cake and brought a piece up to your mouth, fully aware Joshua was watching you intently. It felt oddly intimate, having him watch you so keenly.

Once you tasted the cake, however, his interest in watching you was made clear.

“Wow,” you said through a mouthful of cake, covering your mouth with your hand and looking up to meet his gaze. “That’s really good!” Joshua smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I know!” he exclaimed, taking another bite. The two of you continued to take bites of the cake until there was one little piece left. 

You held your hands up and moved to the kitchen sink, rinsing your fork and placing it with the other dishes. “I’m done!” you said as Joshua turned. “The last bite is yours though,” he said with a frown. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “I’m good. You can have it.”

Joshua shook his head, moving to stand beside you. “No,” he replied, holding the piece for you. “It’s yours.” You looked from the piece of cake up to his face. He was waiting patiently for you to take the bite and although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you took the plunge anyway.

His eyes never left your face as you pulled back, chewing and swallowing the last bite of cake. “Okay,” you said, looking up. “Now I’m-”

Your words were cut short by Joshua pulling you in, lips crashing against yours. You moaned into the kiss as his lips parted yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. All you tasted was cake and saliva. He’d abandoned the plate the second you accepted his advances, discarding it on the counter behind you as one hand moved to your hip, the other staying put on the back of your neck.

Joshua guided your body away from the sink and against the kitchen island. You groaned as the counter dug into your back, a sound that Joshua swallowed as he deepened the kiss. “Fuck,” you hissed as his lips left yours, trailing over your cheek and down the side of your neck.

Without warning, he pulled back, spinning you to face the rest of the room, pushing you against the counter as he grinded against you, allowing you to feel his hard cock. “You have no idea how crazy you drive me,” he growled, one arm wrapping around your chest and holding you against him as he rutted against you. You let out a feeble moan, hands moving up to grab his arm as your legs threatened to give out under you. “J-Joshua,” you whimpered.

Your voice must have snapped him back to reality and just as quickly as it started, Joshua pushed away from you, facing the sink and gripping the sides as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.” You turned to face his back, hands on the counter behind you as you steadied yourself. “Wh-what just happened?” you panted.

Joshua shook his head and when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “I think you should go.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. Was he… kicking you out? After all that?

“What?” you whispered. Joshua raised his head but still didn’t turn to look at you.

“You should go home,” he said, his voice still strained. “This is wrong.”

You stared at the back of his head incredulously. He practically jumped you at the sink and almost bent you over the island of his kitchen and now he was backpedaling? You said nothing, instead grabbing your coat and scarf from the seat you left them on and headed for the door, yanking it open before stepping out onto the landing and slamming the door behind you.

Your footsteps were loud, echoing as you ran down the old wooden steps and into the back room of the shop.

Up front you reached the door in record time but stopped as something caught your eye. The little cat figurine was sitting on the counter, staring back at you. In a split second decision, you grabbed it. He had said you could keep it after all.

The bell rang softly as you exited the shop, slamming the door behind you and hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath before continuing on.

It was late. Really late you noticed as you walked in the direction of your home. The shops and restaurants had all closed for the night and there wasn’t a soul to be found as you walked down the deserted street. 

The shops to your left were all dark, only a couple with running lights on in the back of the shop. On the right side, across the street was the park. It covered a good portion of the town, stretching for several blocks. The park was home to the playground, a pond, a dog park, and lots of walking trails.

It was covered in trees and lots of shrubbery. It was a lovely place to walk and visit all year round but right now it felt menacing and looming. You tried not to focus on it as you continued down the path before you, clutching the cat statue tightly in your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to finally reach your home, ignoring the chilly breeze that followed as you let yourself in and shutting the door behind you. It was an older home, built back before the town grew up. It was a family home, one you inherited from your parents after their passing. It was a cute craftsman style home with four bedrooms. You’d closed off the bedrooms upstairs, taking up residence in the master bedroom on the main floor.

You locked the door, listening for the click of the lock as it engaged before finally settling and feeling relieved. You shrugged your coat off and pulled the scarf from around your neck, hanging both up by the door before kicking your shoes off and heading into the living area.

You set the cat statue on the kitchen counter and moved to your fridge to grab some water. You always kept a few bottles of water in the fridge. Turning as you uncapped the bottle and started to sip, you jumped slightly at the glowing eyes peering in at you from the back window.

Once you realized it was only a cat, you berated yourself for overreacting and downed some more water before moving to the bedroom but only after making sure the doors and windows were locked.

In the safety of your room, you drew the blinds and curtains, quickly undressing and pulling on your pajamas. Your bed was all but calling your name as you pulled back the covers and climbed in, settling under the comforter as the exhaustion of the day weighed down on you.

You fell into a deep slumber, one you didn’t even remember falling into.

Your alarm woke you up at 630 on the dot and you groaned, lifting your head to peek at the red numbers. You really did not want to get out of bed. Mostly because you were comfortable in your warm cocoon and because the events of last night were flooding back in and you weren’t sure if you could even face Joshua after that. 

You knew staying in bed and wallowing in your misery wasn’t going to help so as much as you didn’t want to, you turned your alarm off, threw the covers off your body and started to pull yourself from the depths of your bed.

As you sat up, you grabbed your phone sitting on the nightstand beside your half empty bottle of water.

Unlocking the screen you found you had a text waiting for you. From Joshua.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you tapped on the icon to read what he had to say.

Joshua: hey, don’t worry about coming in today. The shop is closed for some repairs. You’ll still get paid so don’t worry about that either. I’ll see you Monday

Your stomach dropped into your lap as you read his messages. So he couldn’t face you either? You weren’t sure what kind of repairs the shop could need. There wasn’t anything you noticed in the last few days. You chose to avoid deciphering what he meant and instead to use the day to get things done.

As you got up and started your morning, you took a shower and changed into clean clothes, opting for a light caramel colored sweater and light denim jeans. You gathered up your dirty clothes and took them to the small laundry room off your kitchen, setting a load and going about the rest of the house, cleaning and putting things back where they belonged.

Time ticked by as you worked, stopping briefly to take a lunch break when you realized you were low on groceries. Deciding to swap your washed clothes over to the dryer first, you set out from the house, donning your cream colored long coat but forgoing the scarf. Today was much warmer than the previous day. 

Your walk from your neighborhood to the market only took a couple minutes and you greeted the cashier at the front as you entered and grabbed a bright yellow shopping trolley. You wheeled your cart through the aisles, grabbing items from your list off the shelves and crossing them off as they landed in the basket. You had just turned into the cereal aisle when you stopped dead in your tracks.

Halfway down the aisle was Joshua. He was smiling as he handed a box from the top shelf to an elderly woman. You couldn’t see her face so you didn’t know which resident it was. You tried to back up and head for another aisle but in your haste, you bumped into the display next to you, knocking a few cans of beans off the shelves.

Joshua and the woman heard the commotion and looked in your direction. ‘Oh brilliant,’ you thought to yourself as you knelt down to pick up the stray cans that rolled across the tile. As you stood up, Joshua and the woman had parted ways and he was currently walking in your direction.

You turned away as he approached, setting up the cans and trying to mimic the display they’d been in before.

“Hey,” you heard Joshua say softly. You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “Hey,” you mimicked.

The two of you said nothing, instead standing awkwardly before one another, looking anywhere that wasn’t the other person. ‘Why is this so awkward? Why are you even still standing here? Just walk away!’ You cleared your throat and forced another smile, laughing awkwardly as you took the handle of your trolley. “Well, I gotta go,” you said, your voice much higher pitched than before.

Joshua’s eyebrows shot up as you started to turn your cart and push it past him. He was quick, grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him, backing you up against the shelf of canned beans. Your breath caught in your throat as Joshua looked at you, eyes studying your face.

You saw them briefly look down to your lips and back up. Finally he spoke.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me.” you shook your head quickly. “It’s fine,” you squeaked. “Alcohol does that sometimes,” you added after clearing your throat. Joshua nodded, eyes still fixated on your lips as you spoke. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you continued.

The shift in his expression was unmistakable but you couldn’t tell what emotion he was conveying. “It… doesn’t?” he asked softly. You shimmied out of his grip, straightening your coat as you heard voices enter the aisle you were currently standing in. “No,” you replied. “It doesn’t.”

Joshua opened his mouth to respond but you stopped him. “Don’t worry about it,” you added. “Let’s just forget it. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You didn’t let him speak as you hurried away, pushing your cart into the next aisle to finish your shopping. You were grateful he didn’t attempt to follow you and luckily you didn’t see him again, which allowed you to return to the cereal aisle and grab a box of your favorite brand.

After visiting the dairy section, you headed to the front to check out. The next stop was the butchershop where you grabbed your usual cuts of chicken, pork, and beef before heading home to stock your fridge as well as fold and put away your clean laundry.

The task took longer than you were expecting and by the time the last towel was neatly tucked and folded, you saw that it was getting close to dinner time. You sighed, glancing at your fridge upon realizing you hadn’t prepared anything you bought yet.

You got up and walked over to the fridge and opened the door, looking at the contents and settled on one of the flank steaks you’d bought earlier. You grabbed the package and pulled it from the fridge as well as a couple other items and started with rinsing the vegetables you selected.

As you set the items on the counter, the small kitten figure caught your eye. You’d yet to find it a home in your place and moved to pick it up. As you did, a small portion of the bottom fell off onto the counter with a soft clatter and you cursed under your breath. It seemed as if the statuette had a small seal on the bottom that had seemingly come loose.

You turned the figure upside down and your eye caught the end of something shoved into the tiny space inside the ceramic figure. You carefully removed what turned out to be a rolled up piece of paper and set the figure down to start unrolling the paper.

Blackish text written in what you could only assume was a dark red ink adorned one side of the paper. You weren’t sure what it said but you could tell it was a different language. Possibly latin. Your brows furrowed as you read the words in your head before trying to sound them out.

“Te invoco a profundus inferni,” you read off in what you could only assume was terrible latin. You studied the paper for a moment longer before shrugging and turning to your trash bin, crumbling up the paper and tossing it away.

‘Out of sight, out of mind.’

Once rinsed, you started to prepare the potatoes, slicing them thinly before adding them to a glass baking dish. You worked over the dish and the stove simultaneously, making a cream sauce to add to the potatoes before sprinkling some cheese and panko over the top and putting in the oven.

While that baked, you poured yourself a glass of wine and turned on some music on your phone. The bottle was a new one you picked up earlier. While sipping on the wine, you prepared the steak for cooking, seasoning both sides since you didn’t have time to marinate it.

Soft jazzy tunes floated through the air as you went about the kitchen, heating a skillet before adding the steak which started sizzling immediately. You sipped on some more wine as you waited to flip the steak over. Your mind wandered as you waited, wondering what Joshua was up to before you forced the thought out of your head.

‘Stop thinking about him!’

You continued to listen to the music as your steak cooked, sizzling again when you flipped it onto the uncooked side. Once the steak was cooked to your liking, you pulled it from the pan and set it aside to rest while you checked your potatoes and added the chopped veggies to the hot pan, drizzling them with some oil. It was something you learned from your mother.

Once you were sure your veggies were done, the timer for the oven went off and you made a plate for yourself, sitting down at the kitchen island to eat. You had a dining room but as you lived alone, you saw no point in using the table. You could just eat at the island instead.

Just as you were cutting into the steak, you heard the doorbell ring and turned to look at the front door which you could just see from your spot. You waited for a moment before it rang again and you got up quickly, moving to answer it.

Pushing the curtain covering the window beside the door aside, you peered out onto the front step but saw no one. You contemplated opening the door but decided against it and instead looked through the peephole.

Again, you saw no one standing on the other side.

You took a step back, staring at the door in confusion until your thoughts were interrupted by three sharp knocks. You stared at the door and moved quickly back to peer through the hole. Again, the front step was empty. You moved to peer through the curtain but still saw nothing. You turned the deadbolt and backed away from the door, staring at it for a few moments more.

When nothing happened, you turned to head back to the kitchen to finish your dinner.

Just as you crossed the threshold into the living room, three loud knocks rang out from the door, causing you to whip around and head back to the door. This time you unlocked and opened the wooden door, leaving the metal storm door securely closed and locked.

Outside, just as you suspected, was no one. The street was deserted as the sun set behind the trees, casting everything in a bluish glow. The twilight glow. You peered out at your front porch, looking from side to side but not opening the outside door.

Seeing no one, you stepped back and shut the door, locking it once more before stepping back and waiting to see if someone knocked again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, you hadn’t seen anyone before so why would you see anyone this time?

As you were wondering, you heard something different. Loud, heavy footfalls on the steps outside, almost like someone stomping up the steps to your porch. Before you could move to throw open the door to confront the trickster, three loud pounds sounded at the door, the strength of it shaking the floor of your vestibule.

Your eyes widened, heart hammering in your chest as you backed away. Another three pounding slams sounded on the other side of your door. Followed by three more. You rushed to the door and as soon as your hand fell on the handle it all stopped.

You didn’t dare open the door this time. Instead, you made sure the front door was locked before going around the rest of the first floor to make sure all the doors and windows were secured and properly locked. When you were certain they were, you headed upstairs to check the windows and attic door.

Upon reaching the landing, you were horrified to see that the attic door was cracked open. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door, unmoving. You felt a cold chill run up your spine. Although you couldn’t see anything, you knew someone was looking back at you from the darkness.

You watched in horror as the cracked attic door slowly shut on its own. You blew off your sweep of the second floor of your home before running downstairs and grabbing your phone to call the police. As you waited for the operator to pick up you felt a breeze and looked to see your back door was open.

‘I just locked that!’ You were certain you’d locked that before going upstairs. You’d even done the tug test on it. The line clicked and you were greeted with the sound of breathing.

“Hello?” you asked into the receiver frantically. When no one answered but the breathing started to turn into distorted voices and then a deep rumbling growl you hung up and dropped your phone onto the counter next to your plate.

The corners of your eyes burned as you wandered cautiously towards the open door. You peered out the door into the dark and in an instant, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Your breathing sped up as you tried in vain not to hyperventilate.

Standing outside your door, just beyond the reach of the back porch light was a dark figure. There were no distinguishing features, no eyes, nothing to tell you anything other than the fact that someone… or something, was standing outside your door.

Without thinking, you rushed the door and slammed it shut, turning the lock before backing away.

The shrill tone of your phone sounded out and you rushed to pick it up without checking the screen.

“Hello?” you all but shouted. “Ma’am this is [xxx]. We received a call from this number moments ago. Do you have an emergency?” relief flooded your body as you almost passed out from the stress.

“Yes!” you said quickly. “I think someone is in my attic,” you answered. No sooner than you said those words, you heard a loud crash from upstairs. “He might have left the attic and is in the house,” you whispered, your body starting to shake.

“Can you give me your address?” “It’s Y/N,” you said quickly before giving your address. The town was small and the police station wasn’t far from your home. You knew an officer would be by in no time. “Okay Y/N,” the dispatcher said. “I have two officers enroute. In the meantime, can you find a weapon and a place to hide?”

Your eyes landed on the huge knife you’d used to cut your steak earlier and grabbed it quickly. “I have a knife,” you announced softly to the dispatcher who commended you. “Now you need to find a place to hide. Can you do that?” he asked. You tiptoed softly towards your bedroom, keeping your eyes on the bottom of the stairs before finally reaching the threshold and closing your bedroom door.

You turned the lock and made for your closet, squeezing in and sliding the door shut.

“I’m in the closet in my bedroom,” you whispered to the dispatcher. “Where is your bedroom located?” he asked. “Ground floor, back of the house behind the kitchen,” you whispered back. “Please tell them to hurry!”

You listened as the sounds of slow heavy footsteps pounded across the floor above you, heading for the stairs. “I think they’re coming downstairs!” you hissed. “Okay, Y/N,” the dispatcher said calmly. “The officers are almost there. I’m going to stay on the line but you need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” 

You nodded and hummed in the affirmative as the heavy steps made their way down the stairs, one step at a time. Each slam had you jumping. You were shaking as you listened, keeping the knife ready to lash out. To your horror, the steps started to walk through the first floor and sounded like they were making a beeline for your room.

You tried to control your breathing as the steps stopped just outside your bedroom door.

You waited for there to be banging or for the door to fly open but neither happened. Instead, there was a rapid knocking at your front door followed by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling out “police!” you waited for the bedroom door to open and the closet door to slide aside as a light was shown in. “I found her,” the holder of the light said as you held up your hands.

The knife was taken from you and the officer helped you up. After they escorted you out of the house, one officer spoke while another two searched the house bottom to top, clearing each room and even going up into the attic. While the officers searched your home, you gave your statement to the officer who wrote down everything you said.

“And you’re sure you locked all the doors?” he asked, looking up from the notepad. You nodded again. “It’s just that when we arrived, both front doors were unlocked,” he explained. You stared at him blankly. “That’s not possible,” you replied. “I know I locked that door. Multiple times,” you explained.

“Someone was ringing and then kept knocking but each time I checked, there was no one there. I thought it was just kids getting into the Halloween spirit and being a nuisance. Until the pounding,” you continued. The officer narrowed his eyes. “Pounding?” he asked. You nodded as the two officers exited you home.

“Y-yeah,” you answered. “It started as light knocking but when I refused to open the door or come out onto the porch, it turned into pounding. I heard loud stomping up the steps but when I checked, I still saw nothing.”

The officer nodded as he jotted that down while one of the two officers came over.

“We found no sign of forced entry,” she started to explain. “We found a stack of boxes in the attic had fallen over. That was probably the loud crash you heard,” she continued. “Your back door was also unlocked.” Your jaw dropped. “I know I locked that!” you exclaimed. When I came downstairs to call you, the back door was open and when I walked over, I saw someone standing outside-”

“You saw someone outside?” the officer originally taking your statement asked. You nodded quickly as he started writing down more notes. “What did they look like?” You sighed heavily. 

“I-I didn’t get a good look.” 

Both officers exchanged looks as you rushed to explain further. 

“They were standing just outside the light field,” you explained. “But they were tall. Maybe around 1.8 meters,” you explained. “Everything else was just black. There were no distinguishing features at all,” you added. The officers nodded. “Ma’am,” the woman started and you turned to her.

“We noticed an open bottle of wine in the fridge,” she stated and you knew where she was going. “I just opened it,” you explained. “I hadn’t even finished a glass yet,” you added. She nodded and the other officer quickly jotted that down as well. 

“Well, other than the boxes in the attic,” she started. “There are no signs of anyone inside the home. Since the points of entry were unlocked, they must have gone out that way before we got here.”

You shook your head silently. “I heard them walk up to the bedroom but I never heard footsteps leave.”

The officers exchanged looks before the woman spoke again. “We’ll have a patrol car in the area for the night and if anything else happens, call us immediately,” she explained as she pulled a card out of a little pouch on her belt. “You can call me directly,” she added. “I’m on duty all night.”

The female officer walked you to your door where you thanked her and watched as both cars pulled away and headed down the street. A chilly breeze blew through the front porch followed by a distant flash of lightning and you quickly retreated inside, making sure your doors were locked before heading to the back door to do the same.

Once you were fully satisfied your doors were locked, you returned to the kitchen to clean up your dinner, putting the uneaten portions in a glass container and putting it in the fridge. You downed the rest of your wine and started to rinse your dishes, placing them in the dishwasher before turning off the lights and heading upstairs to make sure all the lights were off, windows closed and locked.

Before heading back down, you turned back to look at the attic door which was firmly shut. You headed down the steps carefully, turning off the light at the bottom landing before heading to your bedroom where you checked your windows.

Once you were sure everything was secure, you changed and got ready for bed.

Climbing under the covers, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep but exhaustion took over and you were out within minutes of crawling into bed.

You were in the midst of a really good dream when you were startled awake by a loud crash and sudden burst of wind. Sitting up, you looked around the dark room and saw one of your windows had sprang open. ‘How the hell did that open?’

You threw the covers off your legs and got up, moving around the bed ro quickly shut the window, clicking your tongue as you stepped in a wet puddle on the wood floor.

The crash you had heard was thunder and a full blown storm was raging outside. You groaned and turned back towards the room as a flash of lightning illuminated the space causing you to stop in your tracks. In the corner by the door stood a tall, dark shadow.

Your heart hammered in your chest, beating almost up into your throat as it closed, your ability to scream being ripped from you. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘This can’t be happening.’

You glanced at the door but knew deep in your heart that you’d never make it to the door, not with the shadow standing right beside it. Maybe you could climb out the window? Damn! You should have left it open! If only you’d seen the shadow before closing the window!

As you weighed your options, a deep, gravelly voice spoke.

“C̸̫͕̿̀̎̈́̈ͅȗ̶̠̳͉̽ṟ̴͖͛̈́̂̓͠ ̶̞͈̈́̌̄̋͂c̵̪̱̆͂̃u̵̡̪̜̠̣͗͒ř̵̤̠͕͈̉r̵̺̙͙͍̦͂̐i̸͈̜͕͙͐́̑̾t̸̨̩͖̣͖̀̑i̵̯͖̼̓͌͛̑s̴̭̐̍̚̚͠ ?”

You stared at the shadow in the corner. Did… did it just speak?

Uncertain if you heard correctly, you waited for it to speak again, although you had no idea what it said.

“M̶̳̞͖̓ͅỏ̷̮̲̯̚r̴̭̹̈͋̀̎t̶͓̩̪̟̿̉̒́̅a̴͓͐̽͊l̸̲̰̯͛͛͠e̴̝͝m̵͕̱̾͋ ̸̫̩̾͜t̸̪͚͔͋e̴͕̠̘̖̅̍͊ ̶̝̞̌i̵̯̺̯̋̉̄ͅn̶̺̳͚̟̟̊́͆̀t̵̫͗̌̎̕͝e̸̗̋̚ṝ̴̺͇̉͗͗͠r̸̺̭̫͈̖̅̉o̷̟͙̥̱͗͌-̴̮̇ ̷͓́g̷̰̪͋͛̕͝ā̸̙͊̍v̴̭̙̜͋̾̊̚i̶̦̟͌͋̈́͛ .”

Your lips parted as it addressed you, still in the same language.

“I-I don’t understand,” you whispered. The shadow didn’t move but instead, in the same gravelly voice it spoke again, this time in English. “I asked you why you keep running away from me.”

Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass. Whatever this was, it was sentient. “Wh-who are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The shadow figure chuckled. Actually fucking chuckled. The sound was distorted and unsettling.

“I am Tarrunach,” it answered. Your brain tried to wrap around the name. It was unlike anything you’d heard before. “T-Tarrunach?” you repeated. The figure said nothing and stayed perfectly still, another flash of lightning illuminating the room but still the shadow stayed black, a stark contrast with its surroundings.

“What do you want?” you asked softly, shifting your weight as your hand slowly reached behind you for the window latch. The shadow figure tilted its head before speaking in its rough voice.

“You summoned me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. ‘Summoned?’

You shook your head, halting your movements. “N-no I didn’t,” you answered. There was another flash of light and a clap of thunder. As soon as darkness returned to the room, the shadow figure shifted. Eyes appeared and it took all your willpower not to scream in terror at the sight of glowing red eyes.

“Is that the game you want to play?” it asked, voice scratchy and low. “You summoned me. Do you not remember the incantation?”

As you opened your mouth to say no, a memory played in your head, almost like a movie reel. The cat figure with the roll of paper inside. The strange words written in dark red ink. 

‘Te invoco a profundus inferni,’ Your eyes widened as the realization hit you.

You knew it was latin but you didn’t know latin. Had you…

Had you accidentally summoned a demon?

You looked back up and noticed the shadow figure had moved and was now standing in front of the door. You leaned back against the window, fingers searching for the latch to open them. 

“I-” you trailed off. “I didn’t know that was an incantation,” you admitted. “I thought it was gibberish.”

The figure laughed again. “Are you in the practice of reciting gibberish often?”

You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Not particularly. I don’t see gibberish very often.”

You were stalling but the figure was moving closer. The flat black shadowy figure had taken on a more corporeal look, instead of blurry appendages, you could make out a curve in the arms by its side. Your fingers brushed against the latch but didn’t manage to catch on.

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, throwing your room in a cast of bright white allowing you to see the figure in full. Your eyes widened, a scream forming in your throat.

Before you stood a blackened figure. The skin looked almost charred. The red eyes looked back at you from a charred face, the lips pulled back into a menacing smile with rows of sharp teeth. The figure was slim and androgynous in appearance. You saw nothing that would distinguish it as either sexually male or female. It was like one of the Ken dolls you’d had as a child.

Before the scream building in your throat could escape, your fingers managed to grab hold of the window latch and you pulled, opening the window. Instantly the wind blew in, the sound of rain intensifying and blowing into the open space. You tried to turn and climb out the window but the figure moved at an impossible speed.

The window was shut, all wind gone as the figure slammed you against the wall beside the window, hand closed around your throat. “This isn’t a game,” it growled in your face, breath hot against your skin. “You summoned me, whether intentional or not,” it hissed. “And I’ve come to collect.”

‘Collect?’

Fear filled your senses, spreading throughout your body and to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“C-collect?” you gasped, clawing at the hand around your neck. “Yes,” the figure snapped. Without warning, it tossed you onto the bed easily and was on top of you as you bounced on the mattress.

“C-collect what?” you coughed. “My soul?”

The demon tilted its head again only this time much faster, so fast you barely registered it except for the cracking sound that accompanied it. “I don’t want your soul,” it growled. You winced as it leaned in, sniffing your cheek before you felt its warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up the side of your face. You tried to push it away but the demon was much stronger.

“You can’t fight me off,” he laughed cruelly.

You felt your throat close up, tears burning at the corners of your eyes as the monster pinned you against the bed. “Please,” you whimpered. “What do you want from me?”

The demon chuckled again, the sound just as jarring. “I want your energy,” it answered.

You turned your face to look up at it in the dark, it’s red eyes boring into yours. “Energ-gy?”

“Your sexual energy,” it added. Your stomach churned at the thought. ‘No way. Absolutely not.’

You shook your head in agreement with your thoughts. “No,” you said defiantly.

The demon laughed, caging you in with its arms against the mattress. “I figured you’d say that,” it said, taking your face in its clawed hand. You stared up, raw fear pumping in your veins as your eyes met. You watched in both shock and horror as the charred skin of the demon melted away to reveal an all too familiar face.

You managed to push the demon off you and scramble off the bed towards the window as the demon stood up. You cowered away, your back up against the wall. “J-Joshua?”

The figure standing in your bedroom smiled at you, flashing a pair of perfect teeth. “Wh-what the hell?”

The demon started to pace back and forth, keeping its eyes trained on you. “What do you think?” it asked. “Looks just like him, right?” You stared in awe. “Or would you believe me if I told you I am Joshua?”

You shook your head quickly. “That’s not possible,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. the demon laughed and instead of the cruel, jarring sound, it was Joshua’s laugh. The one you’d heard countless times in Pandora’s Box as you told him a joke. The smile was the same one he gave you when he caught you staring at him from across the shop.

The same knowing smirk.

You shook your head again. “You’re not Joshua,” you answered. “You’re just messing with me!”

The demon tilted its head again. “That’s where you’re wrong,” it said in a low, menacing tone.

“Let me show you something,” it said, raising one hand and with a snap of its fingers, the lamps in your room came on. You looked around quickly before your eyes landed back on the demon.

“Is that it?” you asked. “I thought you were going to like, snap us to the shop or something,” you added.

The demon’s smile fell and its eyes narrowed.

“You want to go to the shop?” it asked. You nodded. “That’s where he lives,” you said. “The real Joshua!”

The demon sighed and rolled its eyes before standing up straight. “Get dressed,” it said, moving towards the door. You hesitated as it opened the bedroom door. Sensing you weren’t going to move, the demon stopped. “Get dressed,” it ordered again. “I’ll prove it to you.”

You pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading out of your bedroom. It was surreal to see the demon masquerading as Joshua in your living room. You slowed to a stop as it walked around, looking around your house. “Nice place,” it said with a smirk. “How come you’ve never invited me here before?” he asked with a mocking tone. You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Taking that as a cue you weren’t going to talk, the demon led the way to the door. “Shoes,” it said as it unlocked the deadbolt and looked at you. “We’re going to the shop.”

The walk down the deserted streets at night was eerie enough but the fact that a demon masquerading as your coworker was walking beside you as if nothing was wrong made it even more uncanny. The walk to the shop took no time at all and soon, you were walking up to the front door.

The demon produced a set identical to Joshua’s keys and unlocked the door. You led the way to the back where the door leading up to the steps was already open. You hurried up the steps to the top landing but before you could knock, the door opened and you fell into Joshua’s arms.

“Close the door!” you gasped, scrambling to shut the door behind you and lock it.

You looked up into the concerned brown eyes of your coworker. “Y/N,what’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s storming.” You glanced down to find your clothes were indeed wet but on your walk, you didn’t remember it raining. Though you did remember it raining when you were back in your bedroom.

“Here,” Joshua said, letting go of you and heading to the wardrobe that stood between the bathroom and the nightstand. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

You followed him, glancing around quickly. Nothing seemed out of place in the apartment. Joshua pulled out some clothes, holding up the large tee shirt. “This should fit,” he said softly. “It’s not my size.” He pulled out a pair or shorts as well, holding them up to inspect.

Once he’d found something that might fit, he handed them to you and directed you to the bathroom where you changed quickly. Out in the other room, Joshua was heating up a pot of water. He looked up as you approached. “Let me throw these in the dryer,” he offered, taking your clothes from you.

Once he put them in the dryer and poured you a hot cup of tea, you sat at the kitchen island, trying to come up with an explanation as to why you were there. What reason could you possibly have for coming to his place in the middle of the night.

‘I accidentally summoned a demon that wants to collect my sexual energy and it looks just like you.’

He’d call the cops faster than you could finish getting the words out.

Frustrated, you lowered your head and fought the urge to cry, your shoulders shaking. Joshua rounded the island and sat next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” You turned to face him, startling him.

“No one is safe,” you said softly. Joshua’s eyes searched your face. “What?” he said quietly.

“There’s…” your voice quivered as you hesitated. “There’s a demon.”

As soon as the words left your lips, the serious look on Joshua’s face morphed into a smile. “Oh Y/N, please,” he scoffed. “You know, you really are something,” he said, getting to his feet. You watched as he walked back around to his empty cup and moved to put it in the sink.

You got up and ran over to him. “Please, Joshua,” you pleaded. “I’m not messing around!”

When he didn’t respond, you tried to grab his hand. The moment your skin touched his you jerked back with a yelp. Almost like you’d been burned. ‘What the…’

You looked up from his hand to his profile. He slowly turned his head, eyes boring into yours. The brown eyes you’d looked into before were replaced with yellow irises, the sclera no longer white but red. The same eyes you’d seen in your bedroom. Your heart sank as Joshua slowly advanced on you.

“No,” you whimpered, a soft sob escaping you. You tried to run but the demon was quick, grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the counter, trapping you between its body and the kitchen island. “Stop!” you screamed, pushing against its hard chest. “Let me go!”

“I told you,” it said in the voice of Joshua. “I told you I am Joshua.”

You shook your head. “It’s not possible,” you sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks.

The demon took your face in both its hands gently. “I wasn’t lying. I am Joshua. Joshua is me.”

You glanced up to meet the fiery gaze once more. Behind the yellow and red eyes was a sincerity you hadn’t expected to see. The demon wasn’t trying to trick you. “H-how?” you hiccuped.

“How what?” he asked. “Did you not find it odd that I seemingly haunted every dream and waking thought of yours?” he asked. “Or how Mrs. Briggs didn’t recognize me?” You looked up at him. “Are you even related to Bill?” you asked softly. Joshua chuckled and shook his head. “Bill doesn’t have any siblings,” he answered.

“Why are you here?” you asked suddenly. “In this town. Why are you here?”

Joshua tilted his head. “Do you remember the night Bill passed away?” he asked, nodding when you shook your head. “It was a couple days before Halloween,” Joshua started to explain. “A couple of teenagers were out at the old covered bridge messing around with a ouija board.”

You listened as he told the story of the teens and how they inadvertently summoned him, bringing him to the town. That night, after they summoned the demon, they ran, leaving behind the Ouija board. Bill was driving home from the shop and had to cross that old wooden bridge. 

As he started to cross, Joshua explained how he appeared, causing Bill to swerve and plow through the side of the bridge and down into the ditch below. It wasn’t full but because there had been a lot of rain the past few nights, the ditch had been flooded more than usual and because Bill’s car landed upside down, he drowned.

As Joshua finished his tale, you covered your mouth in shock.

“And that little figure you took home,” he continued. “Why would I give you a random gift like that?” he asked. “I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to find the incantation. I wanted you to say it, knowing you were curious and had a proclivity for reading out random words you see,” he added.

Everything he was saying so far added up. Your dreams about him, your fantasies, your attraction, everything was caused by him. “Why did you need an incantation?” you asked suddenly, looking up to meet his gaze. “I wanted you before that.”

Joshua shook his head. “I’m a demon,” he explained. “I have rules and rituals to abide by.” 

The realization dawned on you. 

“That’s why you stopped the other night,” you said softly as it all fell into place. “Because you can’t just have sex with whoever you want?” Joshua nodded. “There has to be a binding incantation,” he explained. “Which is what you read off tonight.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which means…”

You felt one of his hands moved to your hip. “Which means, we have to have sex,” you continued.

Joshua nodded, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek. “Exactly,” he said in a low, husky voice. “But if we have sex,” you said suddenly, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back. “Doesn’t that mean you have to leave?”

Joshua tilted his head questioningly. “Why would I leave?” he asked softly.

“When I have a shop to run.”

Without letting you say another word, Joshua took your lips in a searing kiss, his free hand moving up your back and pulling you into him. “I said that incantation binds me to you,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your skin. “I never said anything about having to leave. I’m bound to you now.”

Your knees almost buckled as you felt his teeth graze against the skin of your neck. “I’m yours,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And after tonight,” he continued, trailing kissing back up until his lips were against your ear. “You’ll be mine.”

You pulled him in for a heated kiss, leaning against the counter as one of your legs moved to wrap around his waist. Joshua leaned into the kiss, parting your lips and sliding his hot tongue into your mouth, muffling your moans.

You whined as he pulled away, slowly kissing down your neck to your collar before taking the hem of the shirt you were currently wearing and tugging it up, pulling the shirt off over your head. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking in your topless form. 

His hands were back on you in a second, lips trailing kisses down your collar and between your breasts. As he lowered himself to his knees, he made quick work of the shorts you were wearing, pulling them along with your panties down your legs before taking one of your thighs and lifting it over his shoulder.

You watched as he planted light kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your aching heat. One of your hands braced yourself against the counter, the other moving down to tangle in his hair as he placed a kiss just above your clit before shifting between your thighs, pushing them further apart.

Your head fell back as you slipped to rest your forearm against the counter again as you felt Joshua’s tongue glide through your folds, brushing your clit lightly. Light teasing licks turned into heavy laps until he pulled back, his chin already covered in your essence. “Bed,” was the only word he uttered.

You were there faster than you could process, your head spinning with arousal as you leaned back against the sheets. Joshua had stripped himself of his shirt in the short distance from the kitchen to the bed and was lowering himself to kneel as you parted your thighs.

He fell onto the mattress, arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your pussy closer to his face.

You moaned, head falling into the pillows as you felt his tongue back on your clit. He teased and toyed with the bud, not really falling into a rhythm. Instead he was merely taking his time and learning your body. Twice you felt the tip of his tongue dip down to your hole, pushing into it as his nose bumped against your clit. You felt the vibration of his groans against your sex, your walls tightening around the end of his tongue.

Just when you thought he was going to pull away, it was as if his tongue grew, entering you fully and filling your cunt. “Oh shit,” you cursed, fingers tightening in his hair as your free hand gripped the sheets beneath you tightly.

He only pushed his tongue into you a few times before pulling back. You raised your head wearily to see him licking his lips. “Already so fucked out?” he asked with a chuckle. He didn’t give you the opportunity to respond as he pushed two fingers into your cunt, watching your face as your lips parted in a silent moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he started to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he curled his fingers, brushing against the soft spongy spot that had your toes curling. “You like that?” he asked, mildly amused by the response you were giving him despite him doing the bare minimum. “Yes!” you gasped as he continued to finger you. “F-fuck!” you swore. “Don’t stop!”

Joshua continued to watch your face as you writhed in pleasure under him. “Like that?” he asked, angling his hand so his fingers reached even further. “Yes! J-just like that!” Joshua leaned down, lips moving against yours, a mix of tongues, spit, and moans but you weren’t sure whose moans they were.

Joshua pulled away, keeping his eyes on your face as he sped up the pace. “Just like that?”

You nodded quickly, your body starting to shake as your orgasm approached but before it could crash over you, Joshua withdrew his hand. You whined at the loss of contact, making Joshua chuckle. “You’re falling asleep,” he noted. You pouted at him. “Don’t care,” you murmured.

Joshua tilted his head curiously. “Are you giving me permission to fuck you while you’re sleeping?” he asked. You nodded. It felt too good and you were so close you’d do just about anything to cum. “Yes,” you answered. “Feels s’good.”

Joshua chuckled against your skin, leaving feathery kisses against your cheek. “As you wish,” he said softly, gently rolling you onto your stomach. You felt his hands push your thighs apart and shuddered as you felt something hot and wet against your hole.

You assumed it was his tongue until it pushed into your cunt and you groaned into the pillows. It was most certainly not his tongue. “Wh-what’s that?” you murmured. You felt one of Joshua’s hands caress your cheek. “Shh, angel,” he said softly and you almost laughed at the irony of it.

A demon calling you angel.

You tried to lift your head to look back but it was too dark. “It’s okay,” you heard him purr in your ear. “Just go to sleep,” he added.

Your cheek fell back against the sheets as sleep started to take over your form. You felt whatever was inside you probing around and a sudden thought hit you. “Is that a tentacle?” you murmured, your voice partially muffled. Joshua chuckled, again in your ear as he leaned over you. “Yes,” he answered.

“It is.”

That snapped you awake. “Hng,” you grunted as the tentacle started to thrust in and out of you. “W-wait a second,” you whined. “I thought you…” you trailed off as Joshua halted his movement. “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered. “I wanted your…” your words failed you again.

“You have to use complete sentences,” Joshua cooed in your ear. “I wanted your cock,” you finally whined. Joshua chuckled, the tentacle in you starting to slowly thrust. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he replied. “You’ll get that, too.”

Your cheeks burned as the tentacle continued to pump into your pussy, gently bumping your cervix with each thrust. You felt another warm wet appendage against your ass and tried to reach behind you but Joshua managed to catch both hands and pin them to the bed.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Just relax for me. Can you do that, angel?”

You moaned into the sheets as the second tentacle pushed into your ass, carefully stretching you open. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly as the tentacle stopped, settling in your ass as the one in your pussy continued to move. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“That’s my good girl,” Joshua whispered into your ear as the tentacle in your ass slowly started to move, setting an asynchronous pace to the first tentacle and soon both were thrusting into you. It wasn’t enough to build up an orgasm but it was enough to drive you insane.

You wanted more. You needed more.

You moaned into the pillows as the tentacles increased speed. “That’s it baby,” Joshua cooed. “You’re doing so well for me.” You were aware that the sheets were no doubt covered in your arousal and that a mess was being created between your thighs.

Joshua didn’t seem to mind. Without another word, the tentacles withdrew leaving you feeling empty. You let out a tiny yelp as Joshua wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling your ass up before taking one of the pillows and tucking it under your raised hips.

You moaned as he ran his hands over your ass, crying out when you felt him land a blow against the skin. He repeated this again, rubbing his hand over the spot each time. “Of course,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. “Of course you’d like that, you little slut.”

You moaned at the degrading name, whimpering when you felt him push two fingers into your heat again. “I supposed you’re ready,” he added. Your body burned in anticipation as you felt the bed move. You had neither the energy or will to look and see what was happening but it didn’t matter.

As quickly as Joshua disappeared, he was back, kneeling behind you and spreading your cheeks with his hands. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he growled. “And it’s all mine.”

You moaned in response as he spit onto your waiting hole. The next thing you felt was the tip of his cock brushing against you. “I’m going to ruin this little pussy,” he growled in your ear. “Make it so mine is the only cock you can take.”

You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your shoulder before he straightened back up. You felt the head of his cock as it pushed slowly into you and suddenly, you knew why he prepped you with the tentacles beforehand.

Inch by inch, Joshua slid into you. Your body shook as your cunt stretched to accommodate his girth. As he bottomed out, you shuddered, walls clenching and unclenching around him. “So warm,” he breathed. “M’gonna wreck you,” he added, taking your hips in both hands before slowly drawing his cock out until just the tip was still inside you.

Without warning, he snapped his hips forward, making you scream into the pillows as he pushed all of his cock into you at once. The first few thrusts were the hardest but as he fell into a steady rhythm, the stinging pain was replaced with a dull ache. You could already feel your juices starting to roll down your thighs, no doubt mixed with sweat as Joshua pounded into you from behind.

You could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix with each stroke. You cried out as he slammed into you.

He hovered over you, one hand on the mattress next to you and the other holding your hip. “You take cock so well, baby,” he growled. “It’s like you were made for this.”

You moaned loudly, tears and spit staining the pillow your face was currently buried in. Joshua grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside. “I want to hear you,” he rasped, hips hitting your ass as he thrust into you. “Wanna hear you scream for me and I split you open.”

Your cries filled the room with each slam of his hips, the sound of skin hitting skin the only other sound to be heard. Your fingers dug into the sheets, trying to ground yourself from the onslaught of his hips. “Mine,” you heard him growl. It was almost animalistic. As if to seal his claim, you cried out as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. The stinging pain of your shoulder combined with the feeling of his cock repeatedly dragging against your walls raw sent you over the edge and you came with a whimper, falling limp as he continued to fuck you.

More tears spilled as Joshua moved, his hips never faltering. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” he grunted. “Fuck you like you deserve. Fuck you until you’re full of nothing but my cum. Turn you into my own cum dumpster like the good little slut are.”

The sound of his almost angelic voice saying all those dirty things had your mind reeling as your second orgasm built up quickly, a low, deep moan escaping you as you came for a second time. “Such a good little girl,” he chuckled. His chest pressed against your back as he buried his cock fully inside you, pinning you to the mattress.

“You want that? You want me to fill you up? You want me to breed you?”

You moaned, hips pushing back against him, urging him to move again.

When he did it was fast and unforgiving. His thrusts were erratic. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice hitting a low you didn’t think possible. “Stay down,” he added, pinning you to the mattress as he pushed himself up with one hand. “Yeah,” he continued when you obeyed him. “Just like that.”

You felt his cock twitch and throb in your pussy, your walls fluttering around him as another orgasm washed over you. You’d lost count at this point how many you had but Joshua was nearing his own and you were left at his mercy as he chased his high, hips slamming into you as he growled and cursed in a language you didn’t understand.

As he finally started to come undone, he thrust once, twice, thrice more before burying his cock deep in your walls as he came, teeth sinking into your skin once more, marking you as thick ropes of his hot cum painted your walls and filled your cunt until it started to spill out.

You panted, breathing heavily against the sheets, ignoring the drool on your chin. Joshua shuddered as the last of his cum spilled into you. He let out one final groan before stilling completely. Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard him whisper into your ear but what he said you weren’t sure.

Everything faded to black.

You woke with a start and opened your eyes, sunlight filtering into your room and blinding you.

You groaned as you tried to roll over but your limbs were heavy and sore. It took more strength than usual to roll over. As you did, you caught sight of the alarm clock next to your bed but something was wrong.

It was on the opposite side. You lifted your head and stared at the alarm clock. The red numbers told you that it was just after nine in the morning. That was when you noticed the wall. It wasn’t your wall. You started to push yourself up, peering down at the sheets. They weren’t your sheets.

Just where the hell were you?

You sat up and looked around. This wasn’t your place.

Your gaze continued over the familiar surroundings but it wasn’t until it landed on a figure in the kitchen that everything clicked.

He smiled as he walked over carrying two plates and a mug of coffee.

You watched as he sat on the edge of bed, setting the coffee on the side table next to you before setting one of the plates in your lap. “Morning,” he said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You seemed pretty tired last night,” he added. “So I let you sleep in.”

You looked around as you tried to process what waking up at his place meant. Did you two…?

Memories from the night before flashed before your eyes.

The demon in your room, showing up at Joshua’s place, the sex. You raised a hand up to your mouth as you realized what actually happened last night. You looked over at Joshua as he ate his own plate of pancakes. “Did we…?” you whispered looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes, which were brown, momentarily flashed red, and you knew instantly.

“We did indeed, doll,” he answered, returning his gaze to his plate.

“And you’re…?” Joshua nodded, looking up. “Yep. I’m a demon,” he answered nonchalantly.

“But I’m your demon,” he added. Your cheeks burned as he smirked at you.

“So I was thinking,” he continued to speak.

“Maybe we could move in together.”

You stared at him as he spoke. “I mean, since we’re bound to each other for eternity now, it just makes sense, you know?”

Your heart hammered in your chest, blood pounding in your ears. ‘Move in together?’

“And if we live together, we can have sex like every night.”

‘For eternity?’

“It would be perfect. It’s stupid for us to be apart anyway.”

You looked down at your plate as your pulse sped up.

‘What the hell have I done?’

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[polo-drone-070]

The cursed chain - part 1

Hey bruhz. Hea iz, lyk, me first propa long story n all. Sum shit dat happend 2 me on, lyk, Halloween. Twas, lyk, real erd getting all dem werd rite n propa. But yer, I hope u lyk it, init.

1. On the morning of Hallowen 

It all began on the morning of Halloween. I woke up feeling good and really stoked. It has been a bit more than a month since I’ve received the Gold brocess and joined the Gold Army, becoming Henry Gold, #70, Right Fullback. I was still in awe of the way the Gold Jersey had transformed my body, loving my new hot muscles and my cleanly shaved head. I love all my new brothers and the feeling of brotherhood that holds us together. Gold is really the best feeling. 

Today was Halloween and I had two things to be excited for. Herc bro had decided to form a wrestling team more properly and was doing some try outs before lunch. Even though I did not have much experience in that sport, I was really excited to join the new team and do some wrestling with my bros. Then, in the evening, the Team had planned a big party for Halloween and it was going to be epic. I already had some basis for my costume, planning to go as a gladiator, but I missed some embellishments.

Going to the attic to search if I could find some elements in all the old stuff stored there, I felt, like, drawn to a dusty box in a corner. Inside, there was a really shiny gold chain collar that seemed to draw me in. It looked so cool. Much better than the thin chain I often wore. Transfixed, I took that chain, which seems to have some kind of inner glow, and could resist putting it around my neck. I felt some kind of shiver, as if some spectral hands were brushing my head, but it was just a fleeting impression that quickly receded. 

Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt right. This chain was propa lit. Then I realised it was already 10. I had not seen the time pass. It was time to go for the wrestling tryouts. I quickly made my way through the busy streets brimming with Halloween decorations and reached the Gym where Herc was holding the tryouts.

2. The Wrestling try-outs

As I arrived, Herc was giving a gold wrestling singlet to each of the bros that wanted to join. He had shaved his hair with Jack recently and I was so glad that we were rocking it as a bald bro trio. Looking at these shiny singlets, I was so stoked to get mine. It did not have a number and name yet, of course, since it was just tryouts for now, but I was determined to get in and represent da Team in competitions and all.

I changed quickly, eager to get that gold on my skin. I was of course supposed to get the collar off for wrestling, but somehow, I could not get myself to remove it.

Herc paired us for some matches, and I ended up against Leander. It was going to be a hard match, cause Leander was really fit and quick on the field. We got on the mat and got ready to wrestle each other. 

Damn, bro was both quick and powerful. I tried to hold me own, but we got on the ground and he was, like, completely dominating me. I felt powerless and frustrated as he was pinning me down hard. There was no way I fail on the first match. Herc might not want me in the team if I did not reverse that situation. But Leander was good, and his grip unyielding.

Sure I was going to be rejected from the Team, I was getting more and more frustrated, starting to draw in my every strength to get out of that grip. And as some rage was starting to build up, I felt some strange warmth in the collar, as some presence was responding to my call, offering me the power to break out if I only let him in. Not even thinking anymore at that point, I was ready to do anything to win. 

And then I felt it. The cold. Shivers. And like a ghost was entering my body. And then the cold was gone and replaced by an intense heat taking over all my body… As if my blood was boiling. Pure rage invaded my every being as my muscles distorted and grew in absurd proportion. I was becoming a muscle beast, seething with pure rage and not controlling anything anymore, ready to destroy anything that would come in my way. 

I brutally ejected Leander from his grip. He had no chance against my rage. I was going to destroy him and tear all his limbs out for humiliating me in front of my bros. He felt badly on the ground, hurting his shoulder, but I didn't care. I was going to stomp him.

And then I felt a huge presence towering over me. Herc has transformed into Dagda, his celtic golden form. His aura just overpowered me completely, shutting me down as he intervenes to stop the fight. His authority was just too much even for my blind rage and and just fell on the ground… my muscles still twitching. I returned to my form completely exhausted, barely aware of what had happened and heard Herc telling me : « Henry, Wat da fuck ? datz no wey to act on a ring. Get ut n cool down bruh. cant av u hurtin ur bro lyk dat ! » Leander was still on the ground, clutching his shoulder. I felt shame and sadness. I had no energy left to argue. I got out of the gym, completely demoralized. I had blown it ! I did not even get what got into me. And as I was ruminating what just happened, hurt in my hopes, feeling Herc was being unjust and all… I felt that rage returning… FUCK

Special thanks to @brodygold dat elp me write da story n correct me poor english, and to my bros Herc (@polo-drone-009) and Leander (@leander-gold-88), who agreed 4 da collab n elp me wiz dem pix.

[vilevenom]

I know it's not an ideal time to post, but I won't be home to post on Halloween proper, so you get this now. Just a cute little somethin' somethin', playing around with the movie!verse boys on Halloween 😊

Little Ghost

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (movie universe)

Pairing: Gen, Sonic/Shadow if you squint

Summary: The boys learn about pumpkin carving and go trick-or-treating

Sonic grinned to himself as he zipped through the forest back to the Wachowski's house. Or, rather, his home, as Maddie insisted he call it. And he supposed it really was home now, with how the Wachowski's had truly opened their home to him, his adoptive little brother and rowdy best friend. He sighed happily as he skidded to a halt in the driveway, orange and red leaves swirling around his feet as he looked up at the house, warmth bubbling up in his chest at seeing the Halloween decorations he, Tails and Knuckles had helped put up only the day before. Today they would be carving up the pumpkins Tom had picked up from the market, to join the one Maddie had brought home from the clinic (gifted to her by one of her patients 'parents'). He was more than elated to get to experience such a simple tradition; one he'd watched countless families partake in over the years that he finally got to join in on, himself.

He was about to trot into the house to see if he could help Maddie set up the pumpkin carving station (she'd noted that it would take up a fair bit of space, and that it would be best to do outdoors or the garage) when he spotted Shadow standing just before the front steps of the house, staring down at the pumpkin Maddie had brought home from the clinic. Curiosity piqued, Sonic strode over to his self-proclaimed rival instead, an easy going grin on his face as he came to a stop next to the dark hedgehog.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Shadow jerked slightly at Sonic's words, turning a sharp glare on the other. "My thoughts are worth more then a mere cent."

"It's a figure of speech," Sonic snorted, hands on his hips as he casually rocked on the balls of his feet, "it means 'what are you thinking about', without being so boring."

"Hmm," Shadow eyed Sonic, a doubtful look on his face, before turning his gaze back on the pumpkin, "I was just wondering…why the gourd has a face cut into it."

"Oh, that? Maddie brought it home from the clinic. It's a decoration," Sonic said with a shrug, "Y'know, like the ones we helped put up yesterday?"

"I was not here yesterday," Shadow stated bluntly, folding his arms over his chest, "I was with Commander Tower."

"Right, GUN stuff," Sonic nodded idly, mirroring Shadow's stance absently. "Well, long story short, we helped put decorations up for Halloween yesterday, since it's in just a couple days." He paused, scrunching his nose up a little, "You do know what Halloween is, right?"

"Enlighten me."

Sonic made an incredulous noise at Shadow's blasé response, tossing his arms into the air. "Why, only the greatest holiday, next to Christmas, of course!"

"I am familiar with Christmas," Shadow offered, turning bodily towards Sonic to give the other his full attention.

"Okay, well, replace Santa with skeletons, presents with candy, and having a heartfelt family dinner with dressing up in costumes, and you've pretty much got Halloween."

"…That explained nothing," Shadow snorted, glaring at Sonic.

"Hey, I'm better at showing, not telling," Sonic said with a shrug, easy grin settling back on his face. "Anyway, are you sticking around today? We're gonna carve up some more pumpkins in a bit, to fill out the rest of the steps."

"I suppose I could stay a while longer," Shadow said with a small nod, flicking his gaze back to the pumpkin in question, "I am still curious as to why the gourd needs a face."

"...We'll ask Tails to google it."

~

Pumpkin carving was an adventure in and of itself.

First, it turned out that the reason the pumpkin needed a face was an old human tradition, which involved using the fruit as a ward against an evil spirit entering your home on All Hallows Eve. Finding that out resulted in Tails spiraling down a rather interesting rabbit hole of fun facts about Halloween that Shadow was more interested in than Sonic honestly thought he would be.

Second, once Knuckles found out that pumpkins were edible, it took both Tom and Maddie to keep him from scarfing down one of the smaller pumpkins in the pile whole. As it turned out, the pumpkins were very similar to a fruit the echidna had eaten with his tribe as a child. He only stopped trying to steal the rest of pumpkins when Maddie promised to buy him a pumpkin pie that he could have all to himself.

Thirdly, it turned out that Shadow was not a fan of the slimy innards of the pumpkins, and immediately peaced out from helping to hollow them out as soon as he touched a stringy glob of pumpkin guts and seeds. Sonic was worried for a moment that the dark hedgehog would disappear back to wherever he went when he wasn't at the Wachowski's (Sonic had a funny feeling he'd starting living in Sonic's old cave), however he simply scooted away from the pumpkin Sonic was digging into with a spoon, a frown on his face and arms crossed over his chest.

"The best part is carving the face, anyway," Maddie offered when she noticed Shadow's sullen look, the dark hedgehog's ears perking at her comment. He arched an eyebrow at her, earning a light laugh from the vet. "You can make any design you want. It doesn't even have to be a face, if you don't want."

"Oh, he wants," Sonic interrupted, leaning in to block Maddie's view of Shadow, "We're going to make the scariest pumpkin of them all. Aren't we, Shadow?" Sonic turned an expectant grin on the darker hedgehog, fully expecting some sort of snarky quip from the other, but was pleasantly surprised by the sudden determined expression and nod he got, instead.

In the end, the Wachowski porch was adorned with a traditional squared toothed, grinning pumpkin (Tails), a pumpkin with a cat carved into it (Tom and Maddie), a round eyed, lopsided smiling pumpkin (Knuckles), and a jagged toothed, angry looking pumpkin with it's carved out innards spewing from between it's teeth (Sonic and Shadow). Sonic bounced on his toes as he stepped back from positioning his and Shadow's pumpkin on the stairs, a proud little smile on his face as he planted his hands on his hips and turned to the perpetually frowning hedgehog.

"Well? What did you think?"

"Of what?"

"Of what," Sonic echoed with a snort, rolling his eyes, "Pumpkin carving! Even if Tails' research said the tradition goes back to, like, the 1800's or something, I'm sure you didn't get much pumpkin action on the ARK."

"No. We didn't," Shadow admitted with a small shrug, arms folding over his chest. "This was…entertaining. Our pumpkin is the best one."

"Of course it is," Sonic scoffed, waving a hand through the air, "We carved it. It had to turn out awesome."

Shadow gave a small nod, beginning to turn as he dropped his arms to his sides. "I should be going…"

"Wait!"

With an arched brow Shadow paused, clearly unimpressed with Sonic delaying his departure.

"Uh…Will you be back for trick-or-treating?" Sonic didn't mean to sound hopeful. He knew going door to door and collecting candy was probably the farthest thing from an activity Shadow would willingly participate in, but he couldn't help himself but to ask.

"Trick-or-treating?"

"Yeah, man. You dress up in cool costumes, go around to peoples houses and collect candy. Y'know, like that tradition Tails read to you, about appeasing spirits and disguising yourself and stuff? This will be the first year for all of us," Sonic offered, rubbing the palm of his hand absently against his hip, "I think Tails said he's gonna do some sort of android thing, and Knuckles is gonna be a 'plucky street walker'. Don't ask me what that is, I think he watched a movie or something with Wade's mom."

"…And you?"

"Me?"

"What are you planning for your costume?"

Sonic let out a short laugh, shrugging his shoulders a little, pleased that Shadow hadn't scoffed at him and disappeared in a flash of light over something as 'childish' as collecting candy. "There's so much to choose from! I think, maybe a werewolf? Maddie showed me a couple of neat ideas I thought were kinda cool. Plus, it's kinda a traditional costume, and I wanted to do this right my first time 'round."

Shadow let out a little humming sound, before nodding slightly at Sonic. "I will think about it," he stated, before disappearing.

Sonic sighed, staring off into the tree line, his shoulders and ears drooping. The last time Shadow had told him he'd 'think about' something the dark hedgehog had totally ghosted him over a sleepover. So much for his hopes of having everyone together for one of their first big family holidays.

~

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Tails called from the doorway, his namesake swaying behind him impatiently, "We're burning precious candy collecting time!"

"I thought you said your map would, and I quote, 'optimize the amount of candy we could get in the shortest amount of time;?" Sonic teased, flicking one of the little pieces of metal Tails had meticulously attached to his fur to give the illusion that he was part robot.

"It will," the fox kit reassured, puffing up his chest.

"Then chill out, little bro," Sonic said with a bright laugh, "There's loads of time."

"Picture time!' Maddie called as she lead Knuckles from the bathroom, where she'd helped the echidna meticulously apply make-up and style his quills into a bun. He was wobbling a bit in a pair of high heels, but Sonic was overall impressed with how steady he was. He'd tried on a pair of Maddie's shoes once before, and it had not gone so well.

"Everyone gather in front of the holiday ghoul," Tom directed, gesturing for the boys to huddle in front of the zombie figure that was stood next to the front door and held a bowl of candy.

Sonic bounced into his spot between Tails and Knuckles, shoving a pair of plastic fangs into his mouth and striking a hunched pose with a growl, his quills bristled and teeth barred while the others posed according to their own costumes. Maddie giggled as she snapped pictures on her phone, the boys laughing along as they struck different poses for her.

"All right, all right," Tom finally called, waving for Maddie to stop with a smile of his own, "If we hold them up much longer, it really will eat into their candy time."

"Okay," Maddie sighed. "Well, you boys have fun! And no tricks! Just treats. Be safe."

"Yes, Maddie," all three boys chimed as Tom leaned in to give his wife a kiss.

"We'll be back around nine," Tom hummed as he opened the door, ignoring the chorus of groans from the boys.

"That's so early," Sonic grumbled the loudest, freezing as Tom opened the door, spying a certain black and red hedgehog stood at the bottom of the stairs, a dark cape draped around his shoulders. "Shadow! You came!"

Shadow jerked back slightly as Sonic zoomed down the stairs and enveloped him in the briefest of hugs, a quiet grunt leaving him as Sonic quickly backed off. "Hm. I wanted to see what the fuss was about."

"Oh! You look so cute! Are you a vampire?" Maddie called from the top of the stairs, her phone already out and snapping pictures.

"It is a traditional costume," Shadow said with a short nod, gesturing vaguely at Sonic's werewolf outfit, "I thought it would work well, given my color scheme."

"It does. You look great," Maddie said, frowning slightly at Shadow's empty hands, "Do you not have anything to collect candy in?"

Shadow blinked, glancing down at Sonics hands, where he was clutching an old pillow case. Likewise, Tails and Knuckles were also holding old pillowcases, while Tom had a backpack, where they were obviously planning to dump their bags when they got too heavy or full. "I…" Shadow began, muzzle flushing, only to pause as Sonic shoved his pillowcase into Shadow's hands.

"Give me two seconds," the blue hedgehog said, zipping away in a blur, only to reappear with another old pillowcase in hand a moment later. "There! Now we're all set."

"Have fun, boys!" Maddie called from the doorstep as a handful of kids began to filter into their yard, her attention diverting to handing out candy.

"Thank you, Sonic," Shadow murmured as their little band began to meander down the driveway, his face ducked slightly.

"Hey, it's no problem, Shads," Sonic hummed, reaching out to tug Shadow into his side, "I'm just glad you showed up."

Shadow lifted his head, offering Sonic a rare, fleeting smile. It left a warm feeling swirling in Sonic's gut, and a flush on his own muzzle.

"I appreciate the invitation."

"Yeah, 'course. Anytime."

[nobedofroses]

October 3rd

pairing: Marcus Moreno x fem!reader

warnings: tension

words: 1.5k

a/n: Prompt for today is "A and B are neighbors, competing about whose Halloween decorations are better" from this list by @goldenroutledge. Setting up for future blurbs, essentially. still some nice thoughts on Marcus, though.

Directory, next Marcus blurb, Day 2

🎃🎃🎃

By October, you had only lived in your new house for a month. Less than that, really. It was how long since the escrow had closed and the house was officially yours, but you had taken your time moving out of your apartment because your lease wasn’t up until the end of the month. But you had slept at least 14 nights there and had just finished unpacking the last box a couple days into October. It was a small house, it was just you, and you were a very efficient person. 

Now that you were mostly settled aside from figuring out which configuration of the dishes in the kitchen cabinets you liked the best, you wanted to do something that would really make the place feel like it was permanently yours. Because as legal as all the documents had been, they didn’t give you the feeling you were looking for. 

The date, the pumpkin-y scent that greeted you in your new favorite coffee shop, and the aisles upon aisles of decorations in every grocery and craft store gave you the idea of what you should do. 

Halloween was already one of your favorite holidays but you never went as all out as you wanted to when you had been living in apartments. Everyone said that it was fine to use nails as long as you filled the holes and that there were “renter-friendly” options, but you were just too paranoid to believe in any of them. So you had stuck to stuff that you could put on top of the counters or coffee table and a seasonal pillow or two. 

You still took that box out of your storage closet and put it around the house, but you were eager to do all the other things since you owned the place and wouldn’t complain to yourself about the holes in the walls. Probably. 

From the craft store you got supplies for garlands, signs, and painting pumpkins. From the home repair store you got outside lights that glowed purple, orange, and green, and one of those projectors that lit up the side of your house. And from the farmstand you got hay and the cutest scarecrow you’d ever seen. You decided to save the actual pumpkins until a little later in the month so that they wouldn’t rot before Halloween actually came around. 

Once you had everything, you made a plan of attack: assemble and install. You painted the signs you had picked up, made a bat garland and a ghost garland, and tested the lights. 

On Saturday that week, you got up bright and early to start the work outside to avoid the lingering heat of the afternoon and also so you could be sure to get your decorations up before anyone else on your street. Perhaps you had a bit of a competitive streak. 

But, to your dismay when you got outside, the house next to you had fake cobwebs covering the front porch and there was a man holding up styrofoam gravestones as if he was inspecting him. He wasn’t a random man, you supposed. He was your neighbor, M-something. Marty, maybe? It had been hard to pay attention to him saying his name when he looked the way he did in his dark grey henley and black-framed glasses. But it was harder to enjoy the view of him in well-fitting faded jeans and a plain green tee that hugged his biceps when he was beating you to the punch on the whole decoration thing. 

“Hi, um, are you always up this early or did you just take it upon yourself to ruin my day?” The half-joke didn’t come out very jokey when you said it, probably because you were up an hour and a half early for this. 

“Sorry, what?” M-guy replied, looking up at you through those damned glasses. He sounded genuinely confused. 

You gestured to the cobwebs and gravestones and then to your house, “I wanted to make an impression on the new neighborhood by being the first one to decorate my house for Halloween.” 

He frowned, “Was the impression supposed to be that you’re over competitive and think you’re better than everyone?” 

Now you couldn’t tell if he was serious. His tone wasn’t angry but he also didn’t laugh and smile like he was teasing you. He was starting to irritate you. “Actually, it was supposed to be that I’m a festive fucking person, thanks.” 

You turned away without waiting for an answer and went to your supplies, yanking a sign off your porch and trying to find a good place for it before he could set his gravestones up. You weren’t that competitive, what did he know? 

Every time over the next few hours that you couldn’t help yourself and glanced over at his work, you felt another wave of anger wash over you. 

Somehow, in the time it took for you to hang your lights along your front porch, he had created a mini graveyard in his front yard, complete with dark soil and flowers at the gravestones. You had watched him place the seasonally colored flowers, his hands dwarfing them but somehow still handling them delicately. Maybe you had watched that part a little too long because when your eyes trailed up to his face, he was looking at you and not the flowers. 

After a quick coffee break, you decided to tackle putting up the scarecrow. The hay bales were still in the back of your rig since picking them up a couple days ago. The owners of the farmstand had put them in the back, reminding you they were heavy and advising you to get assistance if you needed it rather than throw out your back. But you were strong and you were sure, especially after moving so many boxes and so much furniture over the last month, that you could handle it. 

Apparently you were wrong. You could move the hay bale, slide it along the floor of your hatchback trunk, but each inch you slid meant hay was falling off. You didn’t know what the bale would look like if you had to drag it thirty feet from your driveway to the porch. And then up the stairs. And you didn't think the dragging would be good for your back, either. 

You decided to give it one more big try and if you couldn’t lift it straight up and out, you would call a friend over tonight or tomorrow to help you for some cookies or something in return. Steeling yourself, you heaved… and got nowhere. You were about to reach out and close your hatch when a presence moved next to you and gloved hands grabbed the hay bale, easily pulling it out of the trunk. You turned and stared up at your neighbor that had grabbed the bale unbidden, wanting to curse him out and thank him profusely at the same time. How dare he help you when you needed it the most? 

“Well, where do you want it?” he asked, not unkindly but not exactly kindly either. 

You huffed and said, “The porch. To the right of the steps.” 

He walked over, still carrying it, his biceps threatening to rip right through the cotton of his shirt, and you followed. Even his triceps looked good like this. 

“Here?” he confirmed and you told him yes but before you could say anything else he was walking past you back to your car for the other bale. Well, if he didn’t want to talk, you wouldn’t talk either. 

He brought the other bale back in seconds and you used terse words to direct him. Then politeness got the best of you and you did say a quick thank you. 

“Yeah. What are neighbors for?” But it wasn’t so much a fun question as it was just something to say. 

After that, there was no more reason to interact. You were finished in another hour and eager to eat lunch and take a shower. And no, your mind did not drift to wonder about if he was also taking a shower. 

But when you peeked out the window as you walked by around 4:oo, he was still going. While you were eating dinner a while later, you heard a distinctive sound that can only be made by children of the age 7-11 and seconds later, realized it was coming from outside the neighbor’s house. His house. You got up again, under the pretense of turning on your porch light. 

But you waited to actually turn it on until you had seen a probably 10 year old girl run into neighbor man’s arms, followed by a much more calmly-moving older woman. The little girl pulled away and then bounded around the front yard, looking at all the decorations. You could hear vague squeals and shouts of excitement even through the closed window. 

You supposed if there was any reason to get up unreasonably early and work all day on Halloween decorations, the grin you saw light up the whole street was worth it. After a few minutes, all three of them went inside and you took a minute to actually look at what he did. Even accounting for his house being bigger than yours, his display was disproportionately big and detailed. And better. Damnit.

🎃🎃🎃

[ruggiethethuggie]

R U G T O B E R

wc: 781 a/n: i'm telling you now, I may fall short on this but we will do our best lmao and idk what happened to my cute banner. forgive me.

“♪♪ Spooky Scary Skeletons, Send shivers down your spine~”

You had been cleaning around the Ramshackle dorm all day because to be honest, it just needed more TLC than what you had been able to give it lately. It was the last day of September, but this was just the beginning of your real spooky season.

Every year you’d do a deep clean and then decorate your home in festive decorations. Bright green and purple witches’ hats and cauldrons, a bucket on every table with Halloween candies, and your favorite ghosts and pumpkins placed in just the right spots.

Decorating Ramshackle felt different than when you’d do your house back home, but you were trying to make the best of it since this was your favorite holiday. So you woke up this morning and immediately got to work and turned on your spooky music playlist after breakfast.

DING DONG !

You stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out why on earth someone would be here this early- and on the weekend nonetheless. You tossed your cleaning rag onto the couch and opened the front door. 

“Hi, I have some pumpkin spice drinks for-,” they acted like they were reading a nonexistent label on the two drinks in their hands. “For a Y/N? Do you know them? They’re still supposed to tip me for these~”

The hyena beastman standing in your doorway gave a fangy grin as he handed you one of the drinks. “Rug, what are you doing here? Do you realize how early it is?” You stepped aside so he could come inside the dorm.

“Mmph,” he said with a nod as he drank his drink and plopped down on the couch, scooting the dirty cleaning rag away from him with his hand. He placed his drink on the coffee table, making sure he was using the coasters sitting out.

“I mean, yeah, I know what time it is. It’s spooky time.” You rolled your eyes at him and chuckled. “Okay, sure, but why not come over later? It’s like the crack ass of dawn right now,” you said as you leaned over the back of the couch next to him. “What? You don’t want my help? Aren’t you putting up your decorations today? Sure looks like you could use me. Y’know I used to work for a Spirit Halloween one time. It was a seasonal gig, but this guy was the one in charge of putting up all the displays.” 

He looked so proud of himself as he spoke; he was so happy to share his Halloween decoration accomplishments with you. “Oh, wow~” you said sarcastically. “You mean I’m here with a world renowned Halloween decorating connoisseur? And to think I go to the same school as them! Amazing…”

“Alright, butthead. I guess I’ll just leave then.” He got up from the couch and grabbed his drink. “Ahhh, guess all those… fun… fall ideas I had can go down the drain…,” he said in a sulking tone as he took a few steps towards the door before turning back to look at you.

“Don’t give me those eyes, you heathen.” You playfully glared at him, racking your brain to figure out his silly little schemes. “What kind of ‘fun fall ideas’ are you talking about?”

“Oh… it’s nothing. Nothing you wanna go do with me anyways. Guess I’ll have to find another to enjoy this Rugtober with.” He had his hand on the doorknob and a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. He knew what he was doing.

“Rugtober? What the hell is that?” you chuckled as you put your drink down and grabbed your cleaning rag once again.

“Uhh?! Only the best time of the year- and if you wanna join, you have to get a ticket from yours truly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him again and crossed your arms over your chest. “What’s the ticket gonna cost me?”

Ruggie opened the door and took another big sip of his drink. “Where’s the fun in me telling you? I’ll see you tomorrow, at the crack ass of dawn again, shyeheehee~”

“HEY?!” you shouted to him, his head popping back in before the door shut completely. “You’re just gonna leave? I thought you came to help decorate?!”

Ruggie looked around and snickered. “You look like you got it taken care of, Y/N. Seee youuu tomorrroowwwww~,” he sang as the door shut. You stood there and wondered what plans this “Rugtober” season would bring to you. At least this stupid pumpkin drink he brought you was going to fuel you through your cleaning, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was scheming.

© Pumpkin Divider | please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

[retrobr]

for the post regarding natm headcanons—

ive always loved thinking about the different ways that holidays would be celebrated by the exhibits, especially since there would be an absolutely insane amount of them all throughout the year

like there’d have to be a bunch of back to back celebrations in december just to accommodate everyone around the winter solstice/christmas

and exhibits constantly approaching larry about organizing parties for super niche religions/practices and he just has to go along with it

there’d be hella conflict too bc holidays like halloween/samhain might be regarded as evil and demonic by the more puritan exhibits who would try to put a stop to it at first

(but i think the whole concept of dressing up in costume would be enough to win most of the exhibits over—they’d have a blast with trading clothes with one another, and larry wouldn’t have the heart to tell them that that’s not technically how it’s supposed to work)

and honestly every holiday would be chaos considering the fact that a handful of the exhibits are at a point in time where most mainstream holidays hadn’t even been created yet

and then there’d be stuff like weddings and birthdays, all with conflicting cultures and practices, that somehow clash well in ways they shouldn’t

i’ll stop here before this gets too long lol

but i think the idea as a whole is really cool to think about !! :)

Wow dude- it's quite a long but interesting headcanon!! I too think that the exhibits could celebrate their holidays, which are related to their religion and customs, as well as modern holidays that didn't yet exist at their respective times

For example, Theodore Roosevelt or Jed could give Larry the idea of celebrating Christmas (as far as I know Larry is Jewish, so in fact he doesn't celebrate the European holidays; please correct me if I'm wrong). I like to imagine how beautifully the museum could be decorated for this holiday and how the rest of the exhibits, who don't know about this holiday or simply don't celebrate it, just look at it all with their mouths open lmao

And on Halloween Larry could take the exhibits outside, because they already look like they're wearing holiday costumes and just have fun with them idk :D

I think what I like the most is the idea of celebrating birthdays!! Like, it's quite a funny thing for me: "Happy birthday, Oct, today you're turning 2000+ years old" or something like that XD

Or, as you mentioned, celebrating weddings!! I think there can be two scenarios: either the wedding is held alternately according to the traditions of both sides, which may take two days to celebrate, or it all gets mixed up and it turns out to be some kind of wild wedding that the world hasn't seen yet-

Anyways, this is a pretty interesting topic to discuss, but my brain isn't working so well right now and I can't think of any more examples yet...

Thanks for your ask!!

[steddietogo]

Made With Love

Part 3 of Steddie Tik Tok au: The Halloween Vlog

Read part 2 <<here

———

Robin is in a pinstriped three-piece suit, her short brown hair dyed black and slicked back, with a badly drawn moustache on her face. “Unhapphy, darphling?” She speaks around a rose stem she’s holding between her teeth.

“Oh yes,” The camera pans to Eddie lounging on an armchair. He’s ditched his usual band tee and ripped jeans combo for a tight black dress with the deepest neckline known to man, the long black fabric pooling around his feet. He raises his arm, bell sleeve flaring, and flips his straightened hair behind his shoulders with red painted nails. “Yes completely,” deep red lips curve into smile and he bats his eyes, heavily lined and dusted in smokey grey eyeshadow.

———

“Originally, we were supposed to be the Sanderson sisters for Halloween but someone—” Robin looks at something pointedly off camera, “—decided to go off and commit to a group costume with his long-distance babysitting wards without consulting us,”

“This—” Eddie strikes a pose as Robin gestures to them, “—was supposed to be a revenge costume but now we feel kinda bad because—” the camera flips around to show a pile of blankets on the couch, “Dingus is now down with the flu,” A hand emerges from its depths and flips them off.

“I think he’s going as The Thing,” Eddie says and they both snicker.

———

Eddie is in the kitchen using Steve’s recording set up. “My darling Gomez has gone off to party, it’s just me and Steve at home now,” he sighs dramatically, “Alas, I knocked him out with cough syrup so he won’t be up for a couple hours,”

“And I found this recipe for chicken noodle soup and I, Eddie Munson who cannot cook to save my own life, am going to put it to test since Steve keeps saying ‘anyone can make it’. Were gonna find out today baby,”. Eddie’s reading off of a book as he lays out everything he would need on the counter, announcing each item as he takes them out. “I hope I’m using the right pot and Steve won’t kill me,”

———

Eddie is slow dancing to Lady Gaga with a plastic skeleton meant for decoration, his dress swishing around him as he twirls with his inanimate dance partner. During a particularly enthusiastic dip, the skeleton’s skull breaks off from the rest of the body and rolls away.

“Betty! Noooo!” Eddie cries, falling to his knees.

———

“No one told me how sweaty cooking can make you,” Eddie’s twisting his hair up in a bun, “But I’m committed to it now, I will not be bested by soup,”

“Look at this, my make up isn’t the only thing melting in the heat,” He holds up a bent looking plastic spatula to the camera. “Its totally not because I put it too close to the stove but we’re going to hide the evidence so Steve doesn’t find out,”

———

“I accidentally added too much salt, went to the Internet for help and a lot of people say that adding a potato will help fix it,” Eddie explains as he is chopping one. “There are no potatoes in this recipe, so if Steve asks, I’m gonna tell him I have no idea how they got in there,”

“Here goes nothing,” Eddie shoves both sleeves all the way up his arms before dropping all of the potato pieces in at once, making a little bit of the boiling soup splash out of the pot missing him by inches. “Oh shit, that was close. Don’t try this at home kids,”

———

“Moment of truth people,” He’s ladling soup into a bowl. “Personally, I’m just surprised this came out edible, but let’s see what the chef has to say about it,”

The clip cuts to Eddie shuffling away from the camera that’s now facing the sofa where Steve is taking a nap. Eddie kneels before him, a gentle hand on Steve’s face as he nudges him wake. Cut to a bleary-eyed Steve sitting up and waving at the camera.

“Just know that if you give me food poisoning on top of the flu, I’ll never forgive you,” he says as Eddie is handing him the bowl. “Why’re there potatoes in here?”

“No reason,” Eddie smiles back innocently at the look Steve gives him before he takes a bite, and then another. Eddie watches, nibbling in his fingernails.

“Oh shit,”

“What?”

“The potato actually makes it better,” he looks like he’s trying to sound annoyed but the smile on his face gives him away. “I’m gonna have to add potatoes to the recipe,”

“Wait. Does that mean my soup is better than yours?”

“It’s still my recipe, Munson,”

“You’re avoiding the question, Harrington,”

“…Maybe?”

Eddie throws his hands up whopping and his sleeve smacks Steve in the face.

———

“I was standing there, Morticia-less,” Robin is back and the three of them huddle in the sofa in the darkness of the living room, the only source of light is the movie no one is actually watching.

“—and she’s was wearing that Kate Bush bat dress and we were like ‘that’s close enough’ and then we completely winged a little dance and I only tripped on my own shoe once, you should be proud of me,” Robin is wearing a sash that says ‘Hideout King’ and is going a mile a minute about the party she came back from.

“And then she kissed me when they announced us as the winners, she kissed me Steve!” Robin shakes Steve and then high-fives Eddie so hard he almost falls off the couch.

———

Robin is filming Steve launching candy corn from the couch and Eddie, now in his jammies, is on the other side of the coffee table trying to catch them in his mouth. Steve’s laughter is getting increasingly hysterical and his aim is getting poorer while Eddie practically dives left and right trying catch the candy. Steve looks like he’s going to fall off the couch in stitches. The video ends as three are celebrating a complicated twist dive Eddie executed and successfully caught the candy with in mouth.

———

Caption says:

@_eddie_munson who do you think edits all the footage?

———

Comments:

user80085: who else questioning their sexuality rn?

Dustin H: RIP Betty, you will be missed 😔

Reefing Rick: Why tf don’t I have an Eddie Munson in a Morticia Addams costume cooking in my kitchen? God really has favorites huh

spring roll: So no ones going to talk about how Robin basically came out?

Gayby replying to spring roll: good for her

———

Part 4

———

A/n: it’s so funny to imagine Steve sitting in his room alone and reviewing an hour-long footage of Eddie messing around in the kitchen. And it cracks him up that every time Eddie messes something up he walks up to the camera and whispers ‘don’t tell Steve’

Steddie tag list: @deehellcat @eddiemunsonswife @missarte-beltane @grtwdsmwhr @kit-means-death

[imagineanime2022]

S/O Who Celebrates The Day Of The Dead

Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader, Mr Compress X Reader, Spinner X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Since October is coming up soon, I was thinking what is the league of villains had a S/O who’s quirk is “Catrina” (which is a female day of the dead skeleton) and she celebrates ‘El Dia de los mortals’ which is Spanish for “the Day of the dead” because I know some people celebrate that instead of Halloween and I just thought it would be an interesting idea?

A/N: I am sorry if I have offended anyone with anything that is in this piece, I'm the most British person that you will ever meet so I don't know a lot about this celebration of what is encompassed in celebrating it, I tried to stay as generic as possible as not to offend anyone but that being said if there is anything that is wrong or offensive please let me know so that I can change it 😁

Hero Ver, Student Ver

Tomura Shigaraki

🖐 Probably knew what The Day Of The Dead was but he doesn’t have any in depth knowledge of it, mostly because he didn’t know anyone who celebrated it, until you came along. 🖐 He’s not going to ask any questions but he’ll listen to what you're saying, and might tell you that he has no reason to celebrate, since he doesn’t mourn anyone that has died. 🖐 If you catch him at the right time he might humour you by sitting with you while you create a memorial for all of the people you’ve lost. 🖐 You won’t always have him there but he’d never try to stop you from celebrating even if you ended up taking up his space to do it.

Shigaraki walked down into the bar frowning at the bright colours and the skulls that decorated the interior “what is going on?” He asked Kurogiri who was cleaning a glass behind the bar. “Ask (Y/N) they’re the one who’s decorating.” Kurogiri answered as he gestured to you, Shigaraki only then noticed you in the corner of the room trying to put something up, paper flowers. “What are you doing?” Shigaraki asked as he walked over to where you were. “I’m just decorating…” You answered “you don’t have to worry about it, you’ve already said that there is no one dead that you wish to celebrate.” “Mmm.” Shigaraki hummed. “That’s today?” “It is.” You nodded. “I’m just making a memorial for the people that I’ve lost, I won’t bother you.” “I never said that you were bothering anyone.” Shigaraki said and you looked at him and shrugged as he moved back over to the bar and sat down taking out his game. “You know my mum used to say that they could see you, hear you when you made these memorials, they were here with us, they’re supposed to walk with us on this day.” You explained. “I wonder if they would be disappointed.” “Disappointed?” He asked. “I thought this was supposed to be a celebration, why are you getting sad?” “So you do listen when I talk about all this.” You smiled and he rolled his eyes. “If you are going to take up space doing this, then do it right.” He ordered, he didn’t mean a single word of that, he would have let you do whatever you wanted.

Dabi

🔥 Dabi knows what the day of the dead is and honestly he liked the celebration more than the typical halloween that was more commonly celebrated, that being said he probably wouldn’t tell you that. 🔥 He’ll ask questions in a sort of antagonistic way, he wants to know about the tradition but he’s not in the right frame of mind to just ask, so if you could answer the questions without getting too annoyed at him it’ll work out well for both of you. 🔥 You're likely to have your own apartment so he’d probably find his way around when you were celebrating. 🔥 I don’t think he’d be too picky about the food he eats, open to trying new things if the person that made them was trustworthy, so he’d definitely eat whatever you make, but good luck if he likes something because you literally won’t get any of it.

Dabi walked into the apartment rolling his eyes at the fact that you front door was never locked, he looked over the living room and before long his eyes fell on the small memorial in the corner of the room, he noticed that all of his favourite foods littered the space around where he assumed a picture would go, instead there was a painted skull that had beautiful designs where he knew his scars were on his face. “Oh I didn’t know that you were here.” You said as you walked out of the kitchen. “Maybe you should lock your door, then you’d know who was in your house.” He answered as he looked over at the memorial “should I be worried?” “What?” You asked with a frown before finally looking where he was. “Oh! No I just… Everytime that I ask you who you were before this, you tell me it doesn’t matter because the kid that you were died, so this time I decided that I’d celebrate the boy that died to make you because without him I wouldn’t have ever met you.” You explained, he looked at you for a second “I just never had a picture of you when you were younger to put on there so I… Just put your favourite food on there and well… I was going to celebrate the way I had every other year.” “You don’t even know that kid.” Dabi rolled his eyes. “I know parts of him, the parts that were strong enough to live on, I know the person that his anger, fear and pain made, I only hope that with the celebration of his death it will give time for his happiness, love and wonder to be reborn.” You explained. “I’ve always wanted to know him and every year I’ll show what’s left of him that I am waiting to meet him when he is ready to introduce himself.” “And if he’s never ready?” Dabi asked, his throat almost felt like it was closing, he wanted to end this conversation but he worried that he would lose you if he did. “Then I will find comfort in knowing that he once existed.” You answered with a smile, you walked over pressing a kiss to his cheek, clearing throat before turning back to the kitchen “come in when you're ready or leave if that makes you feel more comfortable.” You said softly, you meant no malice just giving him a choice before turning back into the kitchen leaving him alone but you were only in there for a second before hands found their way onto your hips. “You think words are enough to scare me off?” He asked, “I’ll tell you one day, I promise you that.” “A promise is good enough.” You assured him.

Mr Compress

🔮 Compress honestly knows quite a bit about the day of the dead, mostly because the first time he met you he connected your villain costume to the holiday. 🔮 He still asks questions because he loves to see you talk about it, see how happy you are when you talk through everything. You could say the same thing 3 times and he would nod along like it was the first time that you said it. 🔮 He’ll take the time to celebrate with you, if you have stories to tell or places to visit he’ll go with you, mask off and all, he’s here for you. 🔮 Helps you to decorate, never complains and let’s to run the day, no matter what it is that you want to do.

You had been up for a little while, you had made breakfast for when Atsuhiro woke up and you started decorating the small apartment that you shared, you were humming to yourself as you held up two different decorative flowers. “(Y/F/C) one is better.” Atsuhiro’s voice sounded from behind you before his arms wrapped around you. “You're awake.” You smiled “good morning.” “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to oversleep.” He said softly. “You didn’t oversleep, I’m just up early.” You assured him. “You should have woken me.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Why would I wake you up?” You asked. “I want to help you.” He answered. “It’s okay, you can still help me, but you don’t have to, you know.” You reminded him and he looked at you as if you said something outrageous. “It doesn't matter if I have to or not I want to.” He said and you looked at him, eyebrows raised “I want to help you, I love you and anything that is important to you is important to me.” “Are you seriously offended?” You asked. “Yes my dear I am.” He answered, you could feel the smirk pressed against the skin of your shoulder. “Well I’m so sorry, how about you help me finish the decorations and then we can have breakfast, there is a small festival being held close by for Day of the dead that we can go to as well.” You explained as you carefully placed the flowers that he had chosen on the shelf that you were decorating. “That sounds like a plan.” He said as he squeezed you a little tighter “as long as you still have stories to tell.” “Always.” You promised as you looked at the man finally connecting your lips “now help me finish up so that we can have breakfast.” “Always.” He promised, leaning down to help you with the decorations.

Spinner

🦎 Spinner probably doesn’t know a lot about the holiday but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to learn. 🦎 Always apologises in case he offended you when he asks a question and listens intently when you answer him. 🦎 He’s not against the make up, he worried the first time though because he thought that his scales and face shape would ruin it, when you were finished though he liked what you had done and even the fact that people weren’t staring at him like they usually did. 🦎 If you loved to cook he’d love to learn, maybe one day he could make food for you on the holiday that you love.

You groaned as you opened the door, you hated that Shigaraki had tasked you with a stake out mission the night before you were supposed to be celebrating The Day Of The Dead. You scratched the back of your head as you walked into the kitchen to look through the cupboard groaning when you realised that you would need to go out before you could actually start the celebration tomorrow “your back.” Shuichi said as he appeared at the door to the kitchen. “Hmm.” You hummed. “Come on, you must be tired.” He said softly. “I just need to make a list of all the things I need for tomorrow, I was supposed to get them today but then everything happened.” You explained and he shook his head. “We can make the list in the morning and then we can go and get them.” Shuichi said, reaching out to you “don’t worry I’ll help you, everything will be fine tomorrow.” “I can-” “Nothing is open now anyway, we’ll just go early.” He cut you off and you knew that he was right, so you reached out, taking his hand and heading to bed.

You took in a deep breath as you woke up, you reached out to the other side of the bed and found that it was empty, you frowned as you looked over, you rubbed your eyes before getting up, you walked into the kitchen and smiled as you looked around at the decorations that were all around the house, “You decorated the house?” You asked as your eyes fell on Shuichi across the kitchen. “You had a late night, I thought I could help, I hope it’s right.” He said scratching the back of his head as you walked towards him, you smiled as you leaned up nuzzling into him. “It’s perfect.” You said as you looked at the counter. “What were you doing?” “I was getting everything we needed for the food, I had to go out and grab some things, I think I got everything so that we could start cooking, I can’t do that part without you.” “Really?” You asked and he nodded. “I’m sure you know more than you think you do.” You said as you walked over and looked over the ingredients. “You got everything that we need.” “I’m working on it.” He nodded as he watched you turn back towards the bedroom. “Let me shower and get dressed and then we’ll get started.” You said and he nodded. “I’ll be waiting.” He promised.

Request Here!!

[ryeriy]

tis the season

warnings: fluff

navigation post

a/n: I had a late start to my 31DOH but here is what was supposed to be October 1st

"God this is heavy!" I said while dragging the heavy toat across the floor labeled with the word Halloween on top of it. I had time to spare today since Buffalo has a pre-season game today at home. He'll be back in a few hours. Owen was playing in the game so I turned on the TV to watch while decorating. Tomorrow's October 1st so I decided to get the fall decorating done. Owen says I'm crazy for decorating this early but it's never too early. I have always had a passion for Halloween and fall. "Let's get this sorted out," I said while dragging the that into the living room. I lifted the lid off of the toat to see all the Halloween decorations I had collected over time.

I started taking out and going through the decorations I wanted and didn't want to put up around the house. I started setting up cute fake pumpkins on the coffee table, TV stand, and a few shelves. I found a few photo frames that were Halloween-themed. My hands reached up on the wall to grab the photos we had hanging on the wall. The pictures were of the two of us, us with our family, and or friends. I replaced the frames of the photos with the themed ones, putting the old ones back in the toat I had opened.

I took a break to watch the second period of the game. I didn't notice how fast twenty minutes went by until I stared at the TV watching hockey. Laughing to myself as I don't usually watch tons of TV. I saw Owen making some really good plays and I was happy to see that. I like watching him play it's not only entertaining it's fun. I feel so supportive even if he doesn't know I'm watching him sometimes. Intermission was over and the third period started and that's when I decided to start decorating again.

Dragging the toat into the kitchen. It wasn't that heavy anymore since I took out some stuff but still wasn't light. Searching through the toat I found fridge magnets. They must have been from a long time ago because I don't remember these at all. They were skeletons, bats, and jack-o-lanterns. Really cute magnets so I put those on the fridge. Our fridge has a ton of stuff on it so we could use those. After putting those up I searched for any other decorations I wanted to use. The last few things I decided to use were some candles, mugs, and cups. Those didn't take long to set up at all.

I gathered all the things I didn't use and put them back into the toat. Then I took the toat back into the basement where I got it from. The house looked so nice and festive now. When I came upstairs and into the living room, where I left my phone I saw the game had ended. I got a text notification on my from Owen.

hey, the game ended and I'll be home soon :)

sounds good :))

I replied to him. I was changing the channel trying to find something good to watch and eventually just put on reruns of Grey's Anatomy that was on. I wasn't paying attention as much to the TV as I was also on my phone. Scrolling through my Instagram feed when I heard the sound of keys unlocking the front door. I walked over to the front door to Greer Owen, knowing it was him. When the door opened I saw him standing with coffee from Tim Hortons. Both of our faces smiling when we saw each other. I opened the door for him and he walked in. "Wow, you already decorated for Halloween?" He said while putting the two coffees on the kitchen counter as he looked at the decorations. "You should know that I do my decorating early," I say while laughing.

"Well, I'm glad the house is decorated for a holiday that's in a month." He says while chuckling and I just smiled at him. "Oh stop," I say jokingly. "Okay fine then, I'll drink your coffee the-" I cut him off before he could finish what he was saying. "No!"

"I'm just messing with you." He says. "Here you go." He said while handing me my coffee. "You know me so well," I said while kissing him on the cheek. "Is that pumpkin I smell?" Owen questioned. "I told you I decorated," I said while laughing softly. "You should know it's pumpkin season," I said. "You're just so adorable." He says while kissing me on the head.

31 days of Halloween

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mentions: @67-angelofthelordme-67 @jackhughes-86 @trevorzegrizz @francesfarhadi

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 14: Birds of a Feather

Summary:

After shopping for Halloween decorations, Jamil meets up with Azul for a promised trip to the aviary, where he slowly builds up the courage to ask him out.

Word Count: 4,593

The Prefect meeting about the upcoming Halloween Week just ended, and Jamil is preparing to leave for town to get some decorations.

It's when Jamil is walking to his room, noticing the distinct lack of traps laying around, that his phone buzzes and he checks the message.

It's a text from Azul.

Jamil's mood instantly perks up. Right, the aviary!

Azul replies almost immediately.

It is? If he had known it was so close, he'd have visited more often.

Almost an hour later, Jamil has just gotten out of the store where he was supposed to pick up the decorations.

Apparently since there was a high demand for carved pumpkins and floating lanterns, the store had run out of stock. They're waiting on new stocks arriving today, and Jamil was told that they'd just deliver the items to NRC.

Normally he'd be annoyed, but he has plans here in town today, anyway.

Jamil easily finds his way to the cat café. He wonders if he should go in or if he should wait for Azul out here on the street.

Then he hears a playful voice.

"Hello, Viper."

He looks to see that Azul is approaching, wearing his purple hoodie.

"Hey, Ash. You're definitely dressed for a nice and comfy day today." Jamil remarks. He, too, is wearing a thicker hoodie than normal on account of the colder season coming in. He walks over to him, smiling. "By the way, you really went and had the nerve to change things up around Scarabia after just one visit, huh? Not only are there less traps these days but last night, I got ambushed by my dorm members just so they could talk my ear off with their opinions of me."

"Oh?" Azul says in pleasant surprise. "How did that go? What did they say?"

Jamil pauses and scrunches up his face. "You can't expect me to recite what they told me. I'm sure they already told you those sentiments first. Point is, the new stuff that's been going around the dorm… I guess it's not so bad. I just still find it wild that you managed to change all that in the span of one day."

Azul shakes his head. "I didn't do much, your residents have already been wanting to tell you those things, they just needed a little encouragement and a nudge in the right direction. What did you tell them?" he smiles at Jamil.

Jamil scratches the back of his head. "I… Well, I didn't know what to say, so I just said whatever came to me in the moment. It looks like it made them happy, so whatever works. Now the only trap I really gotta worry about is a sudden party in the middle of a study night." He sighs, but there's clearly no real bite to it. "Anyway… dorm matters aside, how have things been at RSA? Did you give Kalim that package I sent you?"

Azul nods, smiling. "I did. He teared up and hugged me. You really made him happy with that. And he asked me to give you this," he pulls out a small box from the pocket of his hoodie.

It looks like a small thermal lunchbox, similar to those he used to pack for Kalim's lunches in middle school.

Jamil's eyebrows raised in surprise. He did not expect to get anything in return.

He gingerly takes the lunchbox and opens it up to check the contents.

He sees the dark orange color of the dish and the smell of curry hits him.

"He cooked it himself," Azul says proudly. "He said that he had been practicing that recipe ever since he joined the Cooking Club. He told me to tell you that he hasn't perfected it yet but he hopes that you enjoy it, nonetheless."

Jamil sees a note stuck to the inside of the lid of the box.

You were always cooking for me, I wanted to try cooking for you, too! I hope you like it! ^_^ - Kalim

"Whoa..." Jamil widens his eyes in wonder before he closes the box and carefully puts it in his backback. "I can hardly believe it... I didn't think he'd ever touch this type of food again."

Azul nods. "He told me the story. I'm surprised you still like to eat that dish after what happened."

Jamil shrugs.

"What can I say? It's curry."

Azul smiles. "Indeed. Well, then. Shall we go see some parrots?" he nods to the direction away from the café.

"I still can't believe you went out of your way to search for parrots for my sake," Jamil laughs. "Let's."

"Seems like there's a lot of things you can't believe about me," Azul says playfully as they walk along the street. "It just makes me want to surprise you more."

"Hmm… I don't think I mind such an intimidating prospect." Jamil pleasantly hums, before he falls a little serious. "Have you heard from Rielle since we last talked?"

Azul’s expression sombers. "He messaged this morning, but it's more of the same thing. He just keeps insisting that he's fine. I'd been considering making an appointment at the palace so that I could visit him. I had brought it up to the king, and he said that I'm allowed to visit as soon as tomorrow, when Rielle gets back from his diplomatic trip to the next city."

Jamil grows concerned. "You're heading off? Will this be until the end of Rielle's tasks with his kingdom?"

"I don't know yet,” Azul says. "The king always expects Rielle to accomplish his tasks, but I'm not sure how long that particular one will take. The best we can hope for is a compromise, perhaps the king would lessen Rielle's responsibilities for the diplomatic gathering if he sees that Rielle is having a particularly difficult time handling them. I'm hoping I can convince the king of that, at least."

"Oh, so you're gonna be the diplomat to decrease Rielle's responsibilities as a diplomat," Jamil observes. "You think the king's gonna listen to reason?"

"I certainly hope so," Azul says quietly. Then he turns to Jamil. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone when I go to the Coral Sea, that's also why I wanted to spend time with you today," he smiles shyly. "I can give your number to Rahzel if you like, so he can send his updates about Kalim to you directly. He'll be messaging me today about it, I can bring it up to him then."

Jamil falls quiet for a moment, but he nods, understanding Azul's plight. "Take care of yourself when you do get there, okay? Let's make this day count, then."

Azul smiles. "Of course."

A few minutes later, they reach an open gate with a colorful sign above its arched top, Abu's Aviary.

"Ah, here we are," Azul says as they walk in. "Have you ever been to such a place before?"

"Not at all," Jamil shakes his head, eyeing the security booth and the visitors milling around. "I think I passed this place once or twice but I never really had the time to look and visit."

Azul nods, then he goes to the ticket booth–which fortunately had no line–and gets two tickets for him and Jamil.

"Do you want to see the parrots now, or look at other birds first?" Azul asks as he hands Jamil his ticket.

"Hm. Might as well save the best for last.” Jamil pockets the ticket. “Besides, I'm curious to see what sort of birds they're keeping around here."

"Let's see the first exhibit, then.”

They entered a garden populated by small birds of different colors; shades of blue, yellow, red, green, brown.

The garden is filled with the sounds of wings flapping and soft chirping as the birds fly around from one plant to another. Some of them flew near the guests, blinking at them curiously before flying away.

There's a sign on one wall showing that this is the finches section, and indicating what types of finches are in here.

Jamil watches the birds fly by, enjoying the sights and sounds as he starts to recall the memory. "This reminds me of how Kalim seems to attract all sorts of animals to him. I bet if he were here, we'd be surrounded somehow."

"Then we must take him here someday," Azul smiles. "Does he attract bugs as well?" he asks playfully.

Jamil visibly shudders. "Fortunately, no. But it definitely won't stop him from befriending them..."

They pass through the finches section and go to the next one, the sign indicating that this area houses nightingales.

They hear a guide telling a group of children that the nightingales frequently sing during the spring and summer seasons, so they're quieter around this time of the year.

A few of the birds perched nearby are twittering in a variety of different sounds.

Azul turns to the pictures and illustrations of nightingales on the wall.

"Adorable," he smiles. "They look like babies who are constantly singing, screaming, or hungry."

Then he reads the text detailing the characteristics of a nightingale.

"They have impressive eyesight." He turns to Jamil. "How's your eyesight? You don't wear glasses so I assume you don't need them."

"My eyesight's always been fine," Jamil casually brags. "It pays to be attentive when you're guarding people. How about you? Have you always needed glasses? Do merfolk usually even wear glasses?"

"My eyesight is excellent underwater, but on land I need glasses. I think it's because my hometown is always in darkness, so the bright light on land does funny things to my vision. It's not the same for all merfolk, though. Rielle doesn't need glasses, and as you know neither does Jade nor Floyd. Maybe cecaelia eyes work differently. My eyes do look different than theirs, after all. In my merform, I mean."

A nightingale with blue feathers on its chest lands on Azul's shoulder, making him stay still in surprise. It chirps and nips at Azul's ear, then flies away again. Azul chuckles as he watches it fly.

"My, it must've thought you were seafood for a moment," Jamil jokes, watching the bird fly away. "Are you telling me that your eyes do those horizontal slits like octopi do?"

Azul nods. "Yes, my pupils are horizontal. And my irises are a brighter shade of blue than this," he slightly raises his eyebrows and he blinks to indicate his eyes.

They approach the next section, the sign indicating that it houses lovebirds.

Based on the amount of birds flying together in pairs or feeding each other with seeds via their beaks, the section is certainly appropriately named.

"Man, if any species needs to learn to get a room, it'll be these guys," Jamil mutters.

Azul laughs. "Ah, let them be happy. Besides, this is their room. We're the ones intruding," he says playfully.

Like in the other sections, there are pictures here of the different types of lovebirds, and a group of kids are reading their names and trying to find them among the flying birds in the area.

One bird with red feathers catches Jamil's attention. It flies onto a low branch next to a bird with purple feathers and snuggles against its neck.

Then they lean against each other, reminding Jamil of him and Azul on one of the rooftops in Scarabia just yesterday.

Jamil stutters to a halt and finds himself staring at the pair.

Wordlessly, he brings out his phone to take a quiet picture.

"Oh, they're beautiful," he hears Azul say softly behind him. "Can you send me that photo?"

Jamil glances up to hold Azul's gaze, aware of the colors they share in resemblance to the birds.

"... Sure. I can send it to you later,” he nods, looking a little shy all of a sudden as he turns away and continues walking like he saw nothing.

Azul falls in step beside him and they stop to let a group of kids in uniform pass by in front of them. They must be in the middle of their field trip.

One of the kids, a little boy, looks at them, then looks at the branch above them, and smiles widely. He turns to his friend and says something, then points to the branch then at Jamil and Azul. Then both kids are staring and smiling at them in fascination.

Jamil looks up and realizes that the kids are staring at them and the lovebirds above them in similar colors.

He immediately knew what they were ogling at. He glares at them and shakes his head.

They just nod at him in defiance.

Sighing, he leans to Azul and whispers, "Little children seem to think that we're the human incarnations of those birds up there."

Azul looks at the children, then at the branch above them, and he chuckles.

He smiles at the children and puts an arm around Jamil's waist, pulling him close.

"Wh—" Jamil was about to exclaim, but he freezes as Azul rests his head against his.

The children gasp and their smiles grow brighter.

Their teacher calls them from in front, telling them to follow and not separate from the group.

They both wave enthusiastically at Azul and Jamil before hurrying after their classmates.

Azul lets go of Jamil and stands up properly again.

He stumbles a little once he was let go and he stares at the other in bewilderment. "What was THAT all about?"

"They seemed so happy, I thought I might give them a little more wonder," Azul is smiling, then he looks uncertainly at Jamil. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

"I... well…" Jamil can feel his cheeks reddening. "I guess I didn't mind, but you owe me for that."

Azul looks relieved. "Of course. Just let me know how I can return the favor.”

"You'll have to wait for it. I want to make this favor worth your sudden gesture," Jamil teases as they proceed to exit the lovebirds section.

Azul raises an eyebrow at him. "I don't think I mind such an intimidating prospect," he smiles playfully, mimicking what Jamil had said earlier.

Eventually, their trip around the aviary ended with them entering the parrot enclosure.

Squawks and fluttering of wings greet them as they step into a botanical garden.

Jamil gazes around, clearly taken by the sight of the birds.

Their colorful feathers are even brighter than he had expected.

Hues of red, green, blue, and yellow all swirl around them. There seem to be more variations even compared to the pictures on the wall.

Jamil can't decide where to look, there are so many things catching his attention; he ends up spinning around to take in the view.

He eventually decides to approach a bright red parrot with blue, black, and white patterns in its feathers, watching it preen itself.

"So cool…" he mutters under his breath.

The parrot flies away, and Jamil turns to follow it with his eyes. Then he sees Azul, looking at him with the softest smile.

Azul's eyes twinkle when he catches Jamil's gaze. Then he looks around as well. "I don't think I've ever seen this much bright colors before, they remind me of the bioluminescent fish in my hometown."

"... How do you feel about the Sea Witch, Ash?" Jamil asks out of the blue, curious.

"Hm?" Azul blinks at him. "She's known to be a benevolent mage, according to my hometown's legend. I grew up hearing a lot of stories around her, and I had actually gotten the idea of my magic contracts from the stories. She used contracts as well, right? And the fact that she was a cecaelia inspired me. She's part-octopus, and everyone respected her. I thought that if I granted wishes like she did, I might earn that same respect," he gives a small smile. "Why do you ask?"

Jamil turns his gaze upward. "That's sort of how I feel about the Sorcerer of the Sands, too. He was in a servant's position, just like me, but he climbed his way to the top through patience and sheer wit. He got the position—the acknowledgement—that he deserved and I grew up wanting to end up like him one day."

He blushes. "It's... kinda silly when you think about it. Even more so when he's why I started wanting a parrot. He was said to have one that served as his trusted companion through thick and thin… And one that apparently talked coherent sentences. I looked into it, though, and found that parrots nowadays can't achieve that same level of intelligence, but I suppose that that only goes to show how advanced the Sorcerer was."

Azul steps closer to him. "I don't think it's silly at all. And if the Sorcerer is here now, he'd be proud of all you've achieved…" he looks up at a branch and smiles. "... Jamil Viper," he says in a voice louder than normal.

A squawk sounds from behind Jamil, and there's a flap of wings as a parrot lands on his shoulder.

"Jamil Viper!" the bird says in its squawking voice. "Hello, Jamil Viper!"

Azul grins, then pulls out some bird seeds from his pocket and holds out his open palm to the parrot, who eagerly pecks at the seeds.

"Whoa, hey there, lil' fella..." Jamil greets after jumping a little from the sudden weight against his shoulder. He watches Azul feed the parrot. "Since when did you get bird seeds?"

"I bought some earlier before I met you at the café," he says, brushing off the crumbs from his hand after the parrot finishes eating. "It's his favorite brand," he pats the parrot on the head.

Jamil looks at him in surprise. "Favorite brand? Huh? Wait, you two know each other?"

Azul smiles. "I'd been coming here every other day since last week, teaching three parrots to react to your name and say hello. They allow you to do that here, just ask the staff to help you, since civilians aren't allowed to train birds on their own. I picked three because it's more likely that at least one of them would be within earshot when we come here. And this guy here is our first responder." He holds up the packet of bird seeds. "Do you want to feed him?"

Jamil stares at him with his mouth slightly agape. Then slowly, he blinks himself back to conscious thought and holds his hand out to receive the packet and feed it to the parrot on his shoulder.

"I… I don't know what to say. Why would you go through all that trouble?"

"I don't know… I had a lot of free time," Azul chuckles at his own joke. "He likes you," he says fondly as the bird eats the seeds from Jamil's palm and gives him a few affectionate nips on his braid.

A smile slowly appears on Jamil's face. "Ash, this officially makes you one of the coolest people I know.”

The parrot squawks, as if in agreement. "He likes you!" it mimics Azul.

Azul chuckles at the parrot, petting it again. The bird ruffles its feathers affectionately. "I'm really glad you like it," he smiles, gazing into Jamil's eyes.

"Ash!" the parrot squawks, trying to nip at Azul's hand as he pulls it away. "Ash! Ash!" Then he nips at Jamil's ear. "Ash… likes you! Likes you!"

"Well, I certainly hope so," Jamil jokes, though there's an undeniable grin on his face from the parrot's words. "With everything he knows about me, it'd be terrible if he's secretly gunning for my downfall this whole time."

"I told you that in confidence!" Azul feigns a scolding tone, staring wide-eyed at the parrot. Then he looks at Jamil and shakes his head in mock disappointment. "This one is a snitch."

"Oh yeah?" Jamil raises an eyebrow, turning his attention back to the parrot. "What else did Ash tell you in confidence? It'll be a secret just between you and me."

"Secret! Secret!" the parrot squawks, and just blinks at the both of them, tilting its head side to side curiously.

"Ah, a shred of loyalty remains in the bird's heart," Azul says dramatically. Then he smiles at Jamil. "We can go here whenever we want, they're open everyday. Oh, and you don't need to have me with you if you wanna see this guy or the other two who'll react to your name. Just say your name loud enough and if any of them are within earshot, they'll come to you."

"Fantastic..." Jamil breathlessly utters, still completely blown away by this arrangement. "What's his name?"

"Al," Azul says.

At that, the parrot perks up and ruffles its feathers. "Al! Me! Al!"

Azul smiles. "Oh yeah, he reacts to his name quite loudly as well. So if you ever want to find him, you can call his name."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Al. You're a really smart parrot, aren't you?"

"Al! Me!" The parrot screeches, bobbing its head up and down like its nodding.

It flies off of Jamil's soldier and lands clumsily on top of Azul's head, leaning forward to stare at Azul upside-down. "He! Likes you!"

"Do you just say that to everyone?" Azul asks playfully, looking at the parrot.

The bird begins to walk in place on Azul's head, earning a surprised "Ow!" from the merman, though he doesn't seem to be hurt.

"Jamil Viper!" Al squawks, blinking at Jamil. "Jamil Viper!" he leans forward to stare at Azul upside-down again. "Likes you! Ash! Ash!"

"Well now, he's snitching on the both of us," Jamil playfully retorts, walking over to lightly wave the bird away. Al soars up with an indignant squawk and flies off to a nearby branch.

Azul chuckles. "So, I take it you enjoyed the aviary?" he proudly gestures around the place like he owns it.

"As long as these birds are enjoying it, then absolutely," Jamil grins. He reaches over and brushes off some crumbs in Azul's hair from Al's earlier perch. "... This place would not have been as cool as it is if you hadn't shown me around today, though. Thank you."

Azul tenses up in surprise for a moment at Jamil's touch, then he relaxes and smiles. "It's my pleasure, Vi. I had a lot of fun with you today. We really did make this day count," he gazes into Jamil's eyes.

From this close, Jamil can see the tinge of red on Azul's fair cheeks.

…

Jamil recalls Al's words, and his conversation with Rielle back at the Autumn Dance.

He likes Azul, and Azul likes him back... At this point, there really is no doubt to be had, is there?

He takes a breath and begins to speak. "... Ash, I—"

A phone rings.

They both get startled at the sound; Azul blinks and smiles sheepishly at Jamil before stepping back to take out his phone. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," he says as he looks at the screen. “It's Rahzel

Probably an update about Kalim." He answers the call. "Hello?"

"Huh? Oh…" Jamil snaps out of his daze, trying not to look disappointed. "No problem."

Al makes a sad trumpet sound up on a branch.

Jamil narrows his eyes at the bird. How could a parrot even make that sound?

"Kalim's Blot Levels are fine," Azul smiles at Jamil while still on the phone. Then his smile slowly disappears as he listens some more. "What?" he asks Rahzel. "Lower than Rielle's– Rielle had elevated Blot levels? When? You're only telling me about this now?" his voice is rising and he's starting to sound angry. "No, he didn't tell me, Rahzel. Why–" He cuts himself off and closes his eyes, taking a breath. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "Thank you, Rahzel." He hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket. Then he puts his hands on his hips and takes deep breaths, his jaw clenched.

Jamil turns his attention away from a mental stare-off with Al to Azul, bewildered. "Wait… Elevated Blot levels? Rielle's developing Blot, too?" He should've expected this, given that he and Azul are both facing the same stressful circumstances. "When did they pick up on that?"

"Apparently Rielle had gone to the infirmary the day before he left for the Coral Sea," Azul says in an evenly measured voice. "Rahzel doesn't know why, but he had himself checked for Blot. His had spiked more than Kalim's did. No one at the infirmary told me because they had assumed that Rielle would. I had assumed that as well…" he closes his eyes for a moment and massages his forehead. "I have to check on him," he says decisively. "Now. Especially with how he's been disappearing lately."

"What?" Jamil says in surprise. "How? Don't tell me you're planning on swimming all the way to the Coral Sea."

Azul looks at Jamil apologetically. "I'm sorry that I have to cut this day short, I'll make it up to you when I get back, I promise. There's a mirror portal at RSA that leads directly to the Coral Sea, but RSA is farther…" he trails off, then looks at Jamil. "I'm sorry to ask you this, but can we fly to NRC? It's nearer here compared to RSA, and Jade told me that Octavinelle has a mirror portal that leads to the Coral Sea. There's a broom rental right outside this aviary." Azul is trying so hard to be calm, but Jamil can see the worry in his eyes.

"..." Jamil nods, taking the role of the calm and composed in a situation of duress. "First, deep breaths, Azul. I know this is concerning news, but you won't be able to help Rielle in such a panicked state. I'll help you get to NRC, but for now, breathe…" He demonstrates, before gently taking Azul's hand and leading the way out and over to a small building for broom rentals.

Azul laces his fingers through Jamil's and grips his hand tightly, mimicking his breathing.

Seeing that Azul seems too frazzled to pilot a broom on his own all the way to NRC, Jamil had asked the clerk to rent them only one.

He gets on and gestures for Azul to do the same. Then he kicks off the ground, keeping the ride as smooth as possible as they head for the cliff towering above them.

Azul has one arm wrapped around Jamil's waist, and with his other hand he takes his phone out of his pocket. "Jade. I don't have time to explain, but I need access to Octavinelle's portal to the Coral Sea. It's about Rielle."

There's a moment of silence before Azul speaks again.

"Thank you. I'll meet you in the Hall of Mirrors in 15 minutes at most. And Jade… Remember that potion we brewed together…? I'd like to buy a bottle from you today."

Another beat of silence.

"Yes, I'm sure," Azul says, sounding like he's trying to convince himself.

Jamil doesn't ask. He knows that Azul is too mentally preoccupied to tell him much of anything right now.

He gets them to land right by the front gate. With the broom being seen as a foreign substance, they'd just fly right into the invisible barrier.

Jamil is automatically identified as a student and, because he's holding Azul's hand, whatever magic regulations are used here seem to recognize him as a guest.

The broom was left behind. They run all the way to the Hall of Mirrors.

<- Chapter 13

Chapter 15 ->

(Masterlist)

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump No.11

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community. I’m Malice and I’ll be your host. 

Today we have @zillstar13 joining us to share their whump story!

Good to have you here, Abraham! Let’s start with a fact about yourself?

I collect all sorts of things. From antique dolls, to rocks, to old bottles, to rusty metal trash, to Halloween decorations. 

And what does whump mean to you?

A story or art piece centered around a character being hurt in some way, especially if it is posted to the internet or put in a zine. 

My writing is whump. Dracula is whump. The doodles of Marie Antoinette I drew in elementary school are whump. It's very vague and fluid, just how I like it. 

How did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

Tumblr. My friend Mac N Cheese supported my exercises in writing whump before I was bold enough to post anything. He doesn't write whump (as of right now, I'm trying to get him hooked) but has been beta reading my writing since I started posting.  

Has your view on whump changed since you joined? Are there tropes you now love/hate that you didn't at first? Maybe your choice of OC vs Fandom? Or even your style ie going from mainly writing to gifmaking or art?

I used to hate most vampire whump. My first series, Our Man Flint, was a vampire whump story with heavy focus on colonial America period folklore and Puritan beliefs. 

I couldn't stand most modern interpretations of vampires written by people lacking my vast knowledge of Slavic and colonial folklore. But it's grown on me tons since then. 

I still very much prefer folklore vampires, or ones similar to Bram Stoker's Dracula. But modern vampires stripped of historical context can be fun sometimes. I do appreciate how fluid they are as a species. 

I guess Mill coaxed me out of my shell after I coaxed him in the complete opposite direction.

Do you have any favourite whump trope?

I love whump based on religion and folklore. Whether it be real/historical or invented for the story. Spirits, vampires, gods, and whatever else. It is simply fascinating and scratches a particular niche in my brain. 

What is a favourite piece that you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

I love all of my work. But at the moment I simply adore Blood Sacrifices. Its position as my favorite will probably have changed by the time this is posted. 

It's an ongoing story about a vampire posing as a pagan god to take advantage of a society practicing human sacrifices. It's very dark for obvious reasons, but human sacrifice is such an interesting concept to me. 

There is a lot of religious abuse, for obvious reasons. Including heavily explored emotional and sexual abuse of one of the priests, and straight up torture of another. I view some of it as dark comedy, but in a truly twisted sense. And it could easily be interpreted as completely serious. 

I haven't gotten to delve into all of the folklore and religion yet, but boy do I have some amazing things planned. 

Religion based whump is so good! Do you mind sharing your writing routine with us?

I write every day, but the amount fluctuates wildly. I mostly write when I'm supposed to be doing something else, like cleaning or eating, but the executive dysfunction is throttling my brain. 

I write a lot in the evening. I drink a lot while writing. But that's incidental as I always have water, tea, coffee, or hot chocolate right on hand. 

Is there anything you struggle with writing? What comes easily for you?

I'm really good at writing emotional abuse, gas lighting, religious abuse, manipulation, and all that sort of thing. Writing is 80% trauma and 20% skill and I'm banking on the trauma, with a splash of purple prose for good measure.

I have a hard time writing about recovery. I write hurt/no comfort. I cannot find it in me to let my traumatized characters recover. Some people find it cathartic, but I'm the opposite. If I'm stuck with my trauma, they are too. I don't vibe with writing healing arcs. 

Is there anything you're working on at the moment? 

I have so many ongoing series, it isn't even funny anymore. I'm participating in the Whumpay event. I passed Whumpril with flying colors and am hoping to keep up the energy. The final chapter of Our Man Flint is slowly being picked away at but I have little motivation at present. 

Do you have any advice for our readers?

Write the most deranged things possible. Project your traumas and insecurities onto all of your characters. Weave pieces of your past, present, and future into the narrative that it can't be separated from you. 

Your writing will be much better if you pour your heart and soul into it. It will feel horribly vulnerable at first, but that does get better. And I enjoy it much more than I ever enjoyed writing popular cliches and random two dimensions ideas. 

Shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you. We're hyping everyone one up here!!!

@elim-flower For supporting me so well, being a truly amazing best friend, talking through all of my problems, and letting me draw us as a vampire and a ferret. 

@heavenly-whumper For being my best friend in the whump community, and outside of it, and for keeping all my secrets and letting me keep yours. 

@devourerofcheesecake For letting me use our coffee/antique shop dates as an excuse to ramble about my writing for hours on end. 

@whumpshaped For helping me through all the niche fears of being a writer with NPD, and saying deranged things about my characters whenever I post. 

@whumpsday For all the truly extensive moral support, acceptance, good advice, optimism, and being a fantastic source of supply. 

@skittles-the-whumpee For being a good friend and staying up late talking with me about our lives, pasts, fears, hopes, and problems. 

Anything you'd like to add? <3

I fucking love this god forsaken community. 

Thanks for taking the time to chat with us, @/zillstar13!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[alexandralyman]

New Fic: Not Another Hallmark Movie

Hi Everyone! Coming off my long fic hiatus with a Captain Swan holiday story. I hope everyone has a very safe and happy Christmas after everything that’s happened in the past few years.

                                  Not Another Hallmark Movie

The little fishing village of Storybrooke Maine was just like those quirky small towns you'd see in one of the Hallmark Channel's never-ending lineup of Christmas movies, so it was no surprise when it was chosen as the filming location for one of them to the delight of everyone in town.

Almost everyone.

Deputy Sheriff Emma Swan was less than thrilled to have Christmas come early in the form of a cast and crew that it was her responsibility to wrangle all over town, the prickly Scottish location manager Merida, seven surly Teamsters, the pretentious assistant director Arthur, and the two leads, former teen star Christina Bell and her love interest, up and coming English actor Killian Jones.

Well, maybe Killian wasn't so bad.

With Storybrooke fully decked out for the holidays several months early, a star-struck son, a totally not jealous brother, and Christmas music blasting everywhere she went, all Emma wanted was for the movie to finish and life in town to go back to normal.

(though a bit of flirting with the handsome lead actor certainly helped to fill the time until then)

AO3 Link  /  FF.net Link

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma gave a nonplussed stare to the teenage barista on the other side of the counter, who was holding out the coffee she’d ordered in a festive red and green paper up instead of the normal white one.

“Seriously?” she replied, one eyebrow raised.

The barista gave a cheery smile that it was far, far, too early for.

“We’re getting into the spirit! We should be getting a delivery later today with gingerbread syrup and pumpkin spice to make holiday lattes.”

“Great,” Emma muttered, taking the coffee and taking in the silver and gold tinsel strung up along the menu boards and the snowman cookies in the pastry case that she hadn’t noticed at uncaffeinated first glance. When she went outside the Storybrooke Bean & Brew it was more of the same, wreaths on doors, snowflake decorations in the storefronts, lights and bells and it was clear the whole damn town had gone completely Christmas crazy practically overnight. Which would be fine...if it was December, or even November.

It wasn’t.

It was August.

August, the middle of summer, when the chalkboard sidewalk sign in front of the Bean & Brew should have a sun and a beach umbrella drawn on it to advertise iced coffee, not a candy cane stuck in a mug of hot chocolate. The temperature was supposed to hit the high eighties today, for fuck’s sake.

No, Storybrooke hadn’t succumbed to the phenomenon known as “Christmas creep” when stores put out their holiday merch earlier and earlier each year so that artificial trees were on sale next to barbecues and gingerbread men shared shelves with Halloween candy. The little heritage town in Maine that looked like it had been designed by Currier & Ives themselves had been chosen by the Hallmark channel as the filming location for one of their insipid Christmas movies, where toothy, pretty people met, fell in love, and had their happy ending in an hour and a half against a picture perfect backdrop of evergreen trees and twinkling lights. A Holiday Romance, Jingle Bell Ball, New Love for Noel, Tis the Season, they aired them non-stop over the holidays and Emma never really gave much thought to where all those movies actually came from, until a fleet of trucks full of expensive-looking equipment had arrived a week ago.

They’d transformed Main Street into a faux winter wonderland within hours of unloading, and it seemed the townspeople were just as eager to get into character as well. Granny’s Diner was serving a turkey dinner special with stuffing and cranberry sauce, the local radio station had switched over from their usual playlist of songs that had been hits sometime in the 80s to nothing but Christmas music 24/7, and the coffee shop closest to the sheriff’s station was apparently now serving Emma’s morning caffeine fix in the cups printed with holly and ivy they normally didn’t pull out until it was closer to Thanksgiving than the Fourth of July.

It. Was. August.

And on top of having to listen to Bing Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas or Josh Groban calling to all ye faithful every time she got into her cruiser, Emma, in her capacity as Storybrooke’s deputy sheriff, had been tasked by the mayor herself, Regina Mills, to be the official town liaison to the movie people. Madame Mayor was adamant that they feel as welcome as possible, hoping to market Storybrooke as a filming locale to any Hollywood production that wanted small town charm and little red tape. All the permits they applied for had been approved without question, so Emma spent her days dealing with road closures and directing traffic around the sets, working long hours with the location manager, a no nonsense Scot named Merida, or with the assistant director, a jackass named Arthur who clearly viewed Storybrooke as nothing more than a backwater hick town that was stuck in time.

Which it was, but still. Rude.

As unenthused as Emma was having to deal with a woman whose accent she barely understood at times and a wannabe Martin Scorsese, her son Henry was just as excited about the movie coming to town. While not exactly in the Hallmark channel’s target demographic, Henry loved Christmas, loved movies, and loved the chance to actually see one being filmed in his own backyard. The fact that it was a cheesy TV movie aimed at women aged twenty-five to forty who drank wine and dreamed of their own hunky yet tender lumberjack love interest and not ten year old boys who were obsessed with Marvel and Star Wars didn’t matter, Henry had proclaimed to anyone who’d listen that it was the best thing to happen to Storybrooke in the history of ever. Since the last major event that Storybrooke had seen was a bad storm that washed a full container of live lobsters off one of the ships down at the docks and scattered them halfway to the town line, he did have a point.

Storybrooke was a fishing village in Maine. There were a lot of lobsters in that container.

A lot.

Emma had listened with half an ear while Henry spouted off every bit of information he could find online about A Midnight Clear, the title of the movie, scouring IMDB, Wikipedia, and the Hallmark channel’s social media accounts. Since Emma didn’t let him have his own Twitter or Instagram account yet, he’d followed anything remotely relevant from hers so he could keep tabs on them all. He was even more excited when he discovered the male lead in the movie was British actor Killian Jones. While he wasn’t exactly world-famous, with one of those fancy BBC costume dramas and some London theater work under his belt, Jones had guest-starred in a two-part episode of Doctor Who, making him, in Henry’s opinion, hands down the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. An opinion he freely shared with everyone from Granny Lucas during lunch at the diner to the mailman when he dropped off the water bill.

David was visibly annoyed by it, which amused both Emma and his wife Mary Margaret to no end.

“I’m cool,” he’d protested, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair with a pout.

“Yes dear,” Mary Margaret deadpanned, patting him on the shoulder.

“I taught Henry how to ride a horse. Could Killian Jones do that?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “He’s English, isn’t riding a big thing there? Besides, he’s been inside the TARDIS, and sorry David, but that’s pretty hard for any of us to top.”

David threw his hands in the air. “It’s a TV show! The TARDIS is a prop, it’s not like the guy has actually been to space or traveled in time.”

Henry had come back in from the yard with dog and immediately started in again on the movie and how cool it was that someone like Killian Jones was visiting their town, brightly asking, “isn’t it the coolest thing ever, Uncle David?” and making David grumble to himself all through Sunday dinner while Emma and Mary Margaret trader knowing looks across the table at his sulking and Henry’s obliviousness to it. Emma and Henry had moved to Storybrooke because of David, her adoptive brother, and lived with him and Mary Margaret and their golden retriever Fandral on their farm at first until Emma got them their own place. Small town life had been a huge adjustment, at least for Emma. Henry had the ability to fit in wherever he went.

Big city girl with a cute, precocious kid moves to a picturesque small town and falls in love with a rugged lumberjack who looks like he stepped out of a paper towel commercial and proposes under the mistletoe before the credits rolled. Wasn’t that the plot of most of those made for TV Christmas movies? Although in Storybrooke it would probably be a lobster fisherman instead, and Emma’s life wasn’t a movie.

Plus, after the whole lobster incident, she really, really, didn’t want to see one ever again even if it was brought to her on a silver platter by Chris Evans in nothing but his Knives Out sweater.

Emma parked her Bug in the station lot after her stop at the Bean & Brew and went inside to both check in with Graham Humbert, town sheriff, and grab a bear claw from the ever present box of donuts he kept on his desk. More for the bear claw. Normally, she’d eat it at her own desk while going over the morning paperwork and seeing if there’d been any breaks in her one and only open case, the ongoing crank calls to Mr. Gold, pawnbroker and shoo-in favorite if Storybrooke ever needed to vote in an official town Scrooge. Not exactly something they needed to call in the FBI to consult on. But with the movie scheduled to spend all day filming at not one, but two different locations, Emma had to head out again immediately in one of the cruisers, so she brought the bear claw with her and slid behind the wheel, putting her coffee in the cupholder and turning the key in the ignition with one hand while she took a bite with the other.

Mariah Carey came blasting out of the stereo and Emma nearly choked, coughing and sputtering around her mouthful of pastry.

“Oh come on, it’s August,” she muttered, fumbling for the volume control. “Ugh!”

Once she got it down to a level that wouldn’t make her ears bleed, she pulled out and headed towards Storybrooke Town Hall. The trucks were already there when she arrived, cables snaking up and down the street and a sign with the name of the movie’s fictional town in place on the building’s facade. Several locals were watching eagerly from behind the barricades that Emma bypassed, badge on her hip and tossing back the last of her coffee as she went.

“How’s it going?”

She directed the question to Merida, whose cloud of red hair made her easy to find among the mostly male crew. The location manager had a clipboard in one hand, a walkie talkie in the other, a headset perched messily in her curls, and an expression that was the opposite of holly jolly.

“How’s it going? Well, I’ve got seven Teamsters who are all on their union mandated break at the same bloody time, the call sheet had the locations for today backwards so my two lead actors are currently at the wrong sets, which is absolutely grand, and to top it off the snow machine is on the fritz again so we’ve got no snow for our fecking Christmas movie. So that’s how it’s going.”

Emma understood about half of that, and it wasn’t just because Merida’s accent got as thick as oatmeal the more she talked. Henry was the movie expert, not her. Still, she made a sympathetic face, since it was clear things weren’t going particularly well.

“Bummer,” she offered, which made Merida let out a very Scottish sounding harrumph.

“You can say that again.”

The walkie talkie in her hand crackled to life in a burst of static and she started talking to whoever was on the other end.

“You got an ETA on Bell yet? Well, why not? I don’t care what the call sheet says, she’s supposed to be at the town hall, not the park!”

Emma assumed she was referring to the lead actress in the movie, Christina Bell. She’d met her briefly on the first day of filming, a tiny blonde pixie of a woman who Emma vaguely remembered from some soapy teen drama show that had been popular when Henry was a toddler. She hadn’t had much time for TV back then, and her own teenage drama was still too fresh for her to really be into the fictional kind, so she wasn’t nearly as starstruck as Mary Margaret and Ruby Lucas were when they came by to watch some of the shoot.

“Merida love, If you’d just give me the keys to one of the cars I can drive myself.”

“No,” Merida answered without looking up from her clipboard at the man who’d come over to join them. In contrast to the members of the crew in their jeans and black T-shirts, he was dressed in a three-piece suit that he had to be absolutely sweltering in, his dark hair was slicked back from his face and he had an accent that was tea and crumpets to Merida’s malt whiskey.

It was Killian Jones, the male lead and officially the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. According to Henry, that is.

“But-“

“I said no, Jones. You’re not covered by the insurance and Arthur will have my arse in a sling if I let you. Or he’ll try to, at least, and I don’t fancy having to explain to the network exactly how their AD got a black eye. You just have to wait until Leroy finishes his break and then he’ll drive you over.”

Regina Mills had been adamant that Emma was to make everything as smooth as possible for the movie people, and if she’d learned one thing about Storybrooke, it was Regina’s town and the rest of them were just living in it. Normally it was beyond annoying, but, what Madame Mayor wanted, she would get in this case.

“I could drive you if it’s that urgent,” Emma offered. “Emma Swan, deputy sheriff. You’ll be safe with me.”

Both of them turned to look at her and she saw Killian’s blue eyes dart down to where she was oh so casually resting a hand next to her badge and then back up to her face.

“A police escort? Well, I suddenly feel very important,” he joked, with an easy smile that could only be described as movie-star handsome. Not that Emma planned on describing his smile to anyone. “Killian Jones, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Officer Swan. Oh, sorry, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“Emma is fine. Nice to meet you.”

She shook the hand he held out and smiled back. A few weeks ago she would have scoffed at the idea of playing chauffeur for some spoiled actor, she hadn’t gone back to college to get her criminal justice degree when Henry was old enough for kindergarten just to end up a glorified Uber, but the guy was cute and it beat standing around pretending to watch the crew fiddle with lights and cables in case Regina was in her office and decided to pop out and check that Emma was doing her civic duty.

“Brilliant,” Merida said, scribbling something on her clipboard. “He needs to be at the park, they’re filming at that bench we scouted last Wednesday. Thanks so much, Emma, you’re a lifesaver, in that you just saved Arthur’s life, since this was his cock-up and I was going to kill him.”

Emma knew the bench Merida was talking about, it was a favorite place of hers when she needed a quiet place to think. She nodded and pulled out her car keys, gesturing towards where she’d left the cruiser. “The Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department is always happy to assist. This way.”

Michael Buble informed them that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas when she turned the key and the radio came to life again. Emma swore under her breath, the volume control was obviously broken.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

He said it with an amused laugh and she felt her cheeks flush hotter than the eighty degree forecast. “Yeah, well, it’s the local station. We always keep the radio on them in case someone calls them instead of us, and they’ve been playing Christmas music in honor of you guys filming here even though it’s August.”

She glanced over at his not very seasonal attire and turned the air conditioning up, letting a rush of cold air wash over them both. At least that was working fine.

“You have a very charming little town here, Sheriff Swan. I grew up in a village by the sea like Storybrooke back in England before I moved to London, it reminds me of home.”

Emma had spent nearly an hour the other day listening to Arthur, assistant director and grade A asshole, bitch about the lack of a Starbucks and a decent place to get Thai food in Storybrooke when she’d had to work with him on the logistics of shutting down Main Street in the middle of the day so they could film a scene, as he oh so condescendingly put it, “before the light changes, Emma, you see, we have this thing in filmmaking called continuity.” At least Killian Jones had some freaking manners to go along with his good looks and sexy accent.

Nope. Don’t go there, Emma, don’t even think about it. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled. Lame, Emma.

The park wasn’t that far away, but she couldn’t take the fastest route thanks to the trucks blocking the streets around Town Hall and had to go the long way instead. With the volume turned down on the radio it was quiet in the car and she could sense him watching her from the passenger seat while she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the road. She was the deputy sheriff, she had to set a good example to visitors about safe driving habits.

Or something.

The long way involved driving past Henry’s school, it was closed for the summer, of course, since it was freaking August, but the message on the signboard out front had been changed from, “See You in September!” to “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” because of course someone had done that. Still, she smiled to herself at the reminder of her son. Henry went to day camp during the week with his friend Paige, coming home every night eager to hear everything that was going on with the movie shoot and Emma had definitely earned some cool points in Henry’s eyes for getting to work with the cast and crew. He was going to freak when she told him she’d finally met Killian Jones.

“Did you grow up here?”

It took Emma a second to realize Killian had asked her a question. “What? Oh, no, I didn’t, actually. We only moved to Storybrooke about two years ago.”

“Ah,” he said, voice seeming to go a bit flat. “Well, I can see why you and your husband decided to relocate. It’s lovely.”

She snorted, trying to imagine Neal in Storybrooke. He’d think it was ridiculous, twee and old-fashioned, and he’d probably also complain that there was no Starbucks or Thai food within an hour’s drive of the town.

Not for the first time, she wondered if part of the appeal of Storybrooke was just how much her ex would hate it.

“Nope, no husband. My son and I moved here from Boston, my brother David and his wife have a farm just outside of town. He heard about the job opening in the sheriff’s department and told me about it, and the rest is history.”

Her long overdue breakup with Neal had come on the heels of finally finishing her degree thanks to night school and loans she wouldn’t pay off before Henry went to college, after dropping out on the first go round when she’d had a baby at twenty. Emma knew their relationship only lasted as long as it did because of their son and even though they kept half-heartedly planning to get married, it never did happen. David also wasn’t her actual brother, his mother, Ruth Nolan, had been Emma’s final foster parent before she aged out of the system and the Nolans became the closest thing she had to family.

Not that she was going to share her entire life story with a complete stranger, of course. Even a handsome one with bright blue eyes the color of the ocean just beyond Storybrooke’s harbor.

“You have a son?” he asked, “How old is he?”

He was a good enough actor that he actually sounded interested, even though most guys noped right out of the conversation when they found out she had a kid.

“Henry’s ten, and according to him the movie is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to this town.” she said, and glanced over at him to add, “He’s also a huge Doctor Who fan, by the way.”

Killian’s whole face lit up at that, clearly pleased. “I’ve been a Doctor Who fan since I was ten, so getting that part was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. You should bring Henry to the set next time, I’d be happy to give him a look at what goes on behind the scenes.”

“You would really do that?”

Emma realized with a start that they were parked and she was twisted in her seat to fully face him. When had they arrived at their destination and why hadn’t she noticed anything except the fact that, up close, Killian Jones had just about the bluest eyes she’d ever seen?

And not only that, he was looking right back at her.

“Of course I would.”

He said it like there was no question that he’d want to entertain an overly excited ten year old boy he didn’t know when he could be…practicing his lines or taking selfies for Instagram or whatever it was actors did when they had downtime on set.

It was a knock at the window that made them both look up and Emma had a very vivid flashback to being sixteen and getting caught parked in a car with a cute boy after sneaking out past curfew. That little stunt had gotten her kicked out of the group home she’d been living in at the time (safe haven for all, her ass) and even though she’d ended up at the Nolans as her next placement and been welcomed with open arms by Ruth, the memory still left a sour taste in the back of her throat. She turned away from Killian and got out of the cruiser with a cough, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her sunglasses.

“Mr. Jones, I’m sorry for interrupting, but we’re way behind schedule today and-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, exiting on the other side of the car and waving off the apology from the harried looking crew member with a lanyard around his neck and another of the ubiquitous walkie talkies they all seemed to carry. “Thank you very much for the official escort, Sheriff Swan.”

She didn’t bother to correct him again that she was only the deputy sheriff, giving him what she hoped was an official looking nod in response. “I’ll be sure to send Merida the bill for using so much of my valuable police time. And you’re welcome, Mr. Jones.”

“Killian,” he offered, before the crew member whisked him away, shepherding him through the maze of trucks and RVs while letting whoever was on the other end of the walkie talkie know that “Mr. Jones was now on set.” Emma thought that he might have hesitated for a bit, lingering for a moment longer with a glance back before disappearing around the side of an Airstream trailer with the crew member and she lost sight of him.

Or maybe she was imagining it.

She needed another coffee.

With their leading man safely delivered, Emma’s next task was to check that everything was running smoothly at this location and if A Midnight Clear needed any further assistance from the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.

“Another last minute permit…shut down traffic on Main Street again…close the library so you can film in it and have to listen to old Mrs. Hubbard bitch about not being able to read the latest National Enquirer for half an hour…give the ridiculously handsome star a blowjob-”

Emma halted dead in her tracks. Had she actually said that out loud? Shit, she did. Luckily, she’d only been muttering under her breath and it didn’t look like anyone was around to overhear. Her fingers found the badge on her belt, running over the metal star. She wasn’t some teenager crushing on a cute boy she’d talked to for all of five minutes, she was thirty years old, for fuck’s sake. An adult, with a college degree and a savings account. A law enforcement officer, come to…enforce the law.

God, that even sounded lame in her own head.

She really, really needed another coffee.

“Enforcing the law” in this case meant moving an orange pylon the crew had left that was too close to the accessible entrance to the park’s footpath. She’d make sure to note that stellar bit of police work in her daily log back at the station.

Signs had been posted to point the crew towards the set, not that Emma needed them. The bench was set in a clearing halfway down the path, not visible from where she was standing because of the trees. She followed along until it came into view, feeling her breath catch in her throat at the sight.

Henry had called it magic, and she supposed it was. Movie magic.

It was like an invisible snow globe had sprouted around the clearing. The green summer grass had been covered in a blanket of white that glittered in the sunlight the way actual snow would, while several faux evergreen trees had been strategically placed around the bench with more snow dusting their branches and dangling icicles that looked so real it was hard to believe they were probably made of plastic. A loud whirring noise suddenly rent the air, sounding like a motorcycle gang was about to come racing through. But this was Storybrooke, the closest thing they had to a motorcycle gang was when Marco gave Granny Lucas a ride to the diner on the back of his Vespa. A minute or so later, large white flakes started falling from the sky and the noise died down to a quieter hum as Merida’s malfunctioning snow machine had obviously been fixed. It all looked pretty damn realistic, Emma would give them that.

Killian appeared on the other side of the clearing, now sporting a black scarf and a pair of gloves with his suit. He was talking to Arthur, Emma was too far away to hear what they were saying but it didn’t take long before the actual filming started. She’d seen enough by now to know that it was a lot less exciting than it sounded. After watching the lead actress, Christina, film the same five second shot of her character walking into the library umpteen times, she really hadn’t paid much attention to what they were actually shooting whenever she had to babysit the crew on location around town. Regina called it “liasoning with the production” because Regina was, quite frankly, a bit of a snob, but really, it was babysitting.

She hadn’t seen Killian film before, and it was a lot more interesting. Yes, Emma could admit that partially it was because he was really, really good looking and it had been a while since her last date, and even longer since her last good date, but it wasn’t just that though. Something about him just changed when Arthur yelled action, the way he walked, his expression when he pretended to answer his cell phone, he wasn’t Killian Jones anymore, he was his character. Emma had only ever played the pity role of a tree in a school play once, she knew jack about acting. It was cool to watch an actual professional do it, especially when that professional looked like he did. They ran through the scene several times and during one of the breaks Killian waved at her. Emma waved back, telling herself the warm feeling in her chest was from the sun.

It was August, after all.

Henry was very excited to hear that she’d finally met the “coolest person ever to have set foot in Storybrooke” when Emma picked him and Paige up from camp that afternoon. They climbed into the Bug and showed her the popsicle stick snowflake ornaments they’d made in arts and crafts, since the Christmas fever had clearly infected Camp Arrowhead. After dropping Paige off at home and eating dinner Henry asked if they could watch Home Alone on Disney Plus, begging, “Please Mom? Please?”

Emma sighed to herself, putting the leftover potato salad back in the fridge. Whenever Henry was interested in something, he threw his whole heart and soul into it, and right now he was all about Christmas movies. She loved that about her son, while privately wondering where the heck it had come from. Not from her or Neal, that was for damn sure. Emma didn’t actually have a middle name, but if she did it might as well have been Cynical, and Neal, well, Neal never took anything seriously enough to care the way Henry did.

A part of her still loved Neal, even after everything that had happened between them.

She really didn’t want Henry to follow in some of his father’s footsteps, though.

Or hers.

“Home Alone it is then,” she agreed.

Henry settled happily on the living room floor, lying on his stomach with his chin propped in his hands to watch Kevin McAllister get left behind while his family rushed off to Paris. Emma curled up on the couch, feet tucked under an afghan Ruth had made for her when she’d been dropped at the Nolans’ door late one night with a duct-taped backpack and a chip the size of the McAllister’s ginormous house on her shoulder. She’d never really liked this movie, even when she was Henry’s age. Sure, the slapstick humor was still funny even as an adult, but…

But…

That huge mansion, filled to the brim with family on Christmas.

The desperate mother, fighting tooth and nail to return to her abandoned child.

The tearful reunion at the end.

Emma didn’t need a session with town psychiatrist Dr. Hopper to figure out that she had some issues with Christmas. Growing up in the system it was far from the most wonderful time of the year.

It was usually the worst.

Donated clothes that never fit quite right and generic gifts bought for “Girl Age 9-11”, no mother or father out there fighting their way back to her, no house full of family and Emma knew far too young that Santa wasn’t real, magic didn’t exist, and she was alone in the world, left behind to fend for herself not just for a few days, but for the rest of her life. She was the CPS equivalent of a misfit toy, a foster kid who got too old to be wanted. Even after Ruth took her in and David became the big brother she’d secretly always longed for, the damage had already been done. Even now, Christmas movies just reminded her of her shitty childhood.

“That was awesome!” Henry said once Kevin had been reunited with his family and the credits started to roll. Emma exited out of the Disney app and dropped the remote back onto the couch.

“You’ve already seen it about a million times,” she reminded him.

“If burglars tried to break in here, I’d set up booby traps to catch them too.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “No, you’d call 911 and do exactly what they told you to do. This is real life, kid, not a movie.”

“Movies are way cooler,” Henry proclaimed, flopping onto his back as dramatically as any actor with his arms spread wide as he announced it to the ceiling. She stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, standing over him and holding out her hands to pull him to his feet. “Too bad you’re stuck here in the real world with me, huh?”

After Henry went to bed and she’d mindlessly scrolled through Netflix for a while —ignoring the algorithm’s suggestion to watch The Holiday and lingering for a bit on the thumbnail for Doctor Who before putting on a random episode of Nailed It instead—Emma found herself standing just outside Henry’s room. The door was ajar and she watched him sleep under the superhero posters that were dark shadows on the walls, with the Lego Star Wars x-wing fighter that David and Mary Margaret had given him last Christmas in place of pride on his dresser. Their little two-bedroom house in Storybrooke could charitably be called shabby chic, with its mismatched thrift-store furniture and and oddly-shaped rooms, it was a far cry from the McAllister’s giant McMansion and there was no luxury trips to Paris in Emma’s single mom budget, but she’d worked her ass off to make a home for her son and she was pretty damn proud of it

Her phone vibrated and she gently pulled Henry’s door closed before fishing it out of her pocket to check the notification. She expected to see a text from David or that Mary Margaret had tagged her in another Facebook post, instead it was from Instagram, letting her know that she had a new follower on her thatswangirl account, officialkillianjones. Sure enough, when she tapped the screen it took her right to his profile, the picture was definitely him and there was a blue check mark next to his name. The most recent post was a selfie where he had the black scarf he’d been wearing on set wrapped around his face and fake snow dusting his dark hair, one eyebrow quizzically raised while he stared into the camera. It was captioned, “Just walking in a winter wonderland, it’s still August, right?”

Having had similar thoughts multiple times a day over the last week, Emma snorted in agreement. She leaned against the wall, looking down at the screen. Killian Jones was now following her on Instagram, that was unexpected, to say the least. She followed him, or rather, Henry had followed him on her account, but she’d never expected him to follow her back. Had he actually gone looking for her profile or had Instagram just recommended her the way Netflix had recommended a Christmas movie even though it was August? Her finger was hovering over his latest post while she mused on it and the next thing she knew, she’d liked the photo. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

Henry was going to freak out again when she told him Killian followed her. Being “mutuals” on social media was apparently a Big Deal for reasons she didn’t quite understand.

She’d tell him in the morning, just like she’d told him that she’d met Killian on set, had answered all the questions he’d eagerly peppered her with during dinner, yes, he was very nice, yes, he liked Storybrooke, no, he hadn’t heard about the rain of lobsters (she hadn’t actually asked him if he did, to be honest), and yes, she told him Henry was a Doctor Who fan and he was happy to hear it.

She hadn’t told him about Killian’s offer to show him around the set and give him a behind the scenes look at the movie.

Her son wasn’t like her. Henry was cheerful, exuberant, and believed the best of everyone he

met. He would absolutely, one hundred percent believe that an actor in the middle of filming a movie would carve time out of his busy schedule to play tour guide to a random ten year old.

Emma knew better. It wasn’t worth getting his hopes up when the odds were that Killian had already forgotten all about it.

She closed Instagram. It was late, it had been a long day and she was ready for bed. Her own bedroom wasn’t that much larger than Henry’s and there was a serious lack of closet space, but it did have original hardwood floors that David had helped her refinish and a little wrought-iron Juliet balcony off the window. The house was an old sailor’s cottage, and Emma supposed the balcony had been for the sailor’s wife to lean on and look out to sea, waiting for her husband to return to her once more. She could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach when she opened the window to let in some air, the original features definitely didn’t include AC. It was a far cry from their old apartment in Boston, where there had been no chance of hearing anything except the drone of traffic or a drunken bar fight out of the window. Storybrooke had been a hell of an adjustment, but it was worth it to have a house with a backyard where Henry could play, a steady job with health insurance, family close by in the form of David and Mary Margaret, everything she’d ever wanted.

Well, almost everything, she thought, looking at the empty space on the side of the bed that used to be Neal’s.

Some dreams just didn’t come true.

************

“Seriously, you too?”

The turkey special was one thing, but now Granny’s Diner was fully decked out with little fake Christmas trees sitting on each table, snowflake banners strung up everywhere, red and green napkins in the dispensers and instead of the usual 80s music that was usually playing from the jukebox, it was Michael Buble again, currently informing them in his 40s throwback style that Santa Claus was coming to town. In August.

Granny Lucas looked down over the rim of her glasses. “Oh come on, Sheriff, it’s the most exciting thing to happen to this town since-”

“-since it rained lobsters on Main Street, I know, I know,” Emma finished with a sigh. “But it’s August.”

“It’s good for business,” Granny said. “The lobster bisque is still a top seller, you know.”

Emma hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of lobster since that fateful day. She ordered her usual grilled cheese and onion rings, not bothering to look at the menu.

“Mom, can I get the turkey special?” Henry asked.

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Henry wanted turkey instead of a burger and fries, and the woman whose picture could appear in the dictionary under “crotchety” was humming along to Christmas music in the middle of summer while she poured coffee. Everyone in Storybrooke had lost their damn minds. Or almost everyone. Mr. Gold was the lone holdout who’d refused to allow any filming on the properties he owned, his creepy little pawn shop was the only one left on Main Street without any decorations in the windows and Regina was utterly furious with him. Not that he cared, and the standoff between the mayor and the richest man in town didn’t look like it would end before the filming did.

Granny disappeared back into the kitchen and Emma listened while Henry chatted away about camp and whatever was considered new and cool among his fellow ten year olds, which seemed to change on a daily basis and she was barely thirty but god did she feel like she was about a hundred when her son started in on TikTock trends.

“Mom, look!”

Henry’s sudden gasp and grab at her arm came a split second after the bell over the door chimed, announcing that someone had just walked in. Her back was to whoever it was, but Henry’s eyes were as big as saucers and even before she turned around in the booth Emma knew exactly who had just walked into the diner.

Killian Jones was standing just inside the door, looking around with interest. Strangers in Storybrooke always stood out, something Emma remembered well from their first few months in town, and when said stranger was a handsome man who everyone knew was the star of the biggest thing to happen to the town since the lobsters, well, all eyes were on him.

He caught sight of her, and his face lit up with a smile. All eyes were on him, and he was looking only at her while he walked over to the booth.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!”

It was Henry who replied to his greeting first, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“Sorry to bother you, Sheriff Swan, but I was told this was the best place in town to get real American food and I was wondering if there was anything in particular I should order?”

Again it was Henry who answered, grabbing one of the menus from behind the napkin dispenser and opening it up on the table. “Oh, you have to try a milkshake. And a cheeseburger. I always get it with fries, but Mom prefers onion rings, and-”

“Whoa, slow down there,” Emma interrupted him, while Killian looked like he was stifling a laugh at Henry’s rapid-fire enthusiasm. “Mr. Jones isn’t going to order everything on the menu.”

“Call me Killian, please. And you must be Henry.”

His attention was all on her son now as he held out his hand for Henry to shake and uttered the magic words. “I heard you like Doctor Who.”

By the time Ruby came over to take his order he was sitting in the booth with them, showing a completely enthralled Henry pictures on his phone of the Doctor Who set. Ruby gave Killian a wide smile, her signature crimson lipstick perfect and one hip cocked in his direction when she pulled out her order pad and pen from her apron. Most men (and more than a few women) in Storybrooke were unable to resist Ruby’s bare midriff and wolfish grin. Killian only gave her a polite nod before looking back down at the menu and ordering a milkshake after conferring with Henry on which flavor was the best (chocolate, was Henry’s answer) and a cheeseburger with fries, Henry’s normal go-to meal. Ruby went back into the kitchen with a disappointed pout and Killian went back to telling Henry what he said were top TARDIS secrets until the food was dropped off on plates roughly the size of frisbees.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, looking a little stunned.

“There’s your real American food,” Emma smirked, picking up an onion ring from her plate and biting into it with relish.

“If I eat all this I don’t think I’ll fit back into my costume.”

Henry decided to be helpful. “Mom’ll steal some of your fries when you’re not looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks kid.”

“Steal?” Killian repeated, putting a theatrical emphasis on the word. “A fine upstanding officer would never steal, unless…why, Sheriff Swan, are you secretly a pirate?”

Henry was giggling alongside him and Emma played along with the joke, corny as it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she shot back.

“Perhaps I would.”

They were interrupted by two teenage girls, sharing nervous giggles as they came over to ask for Killian’s autograph and a selfie. He turned to them with that movie-star smile, signing and posing for several pictures with each. When he turned back Emma was holding one of the fries off his plate, the end already dipped in ketchup.

“Oops, how’d that get there?” she mused with faux innocence.

His smile turned to something less suitable for the Hallmark channel’s family friendly reputation as he leaned back in the booth and gave her an appraising look that she met head on while she ate the pilfered fry. She was still pretty good at nicking food when no one was looking, it was a lot more fun now than it had been when she was sixteen.

When Ruby dropped off the bill it seemed like no time had passed, but Emma noticed with a start that the diner was practically deserted, the lunch rush was clearly long over. Killian’s plate was empty, after he’d taken a few pictures to post “real American food” on his Instagram he’d dug in and eaten everything except the fries Emma had filched every time someone else had come over to ask for his autograph or a photo. It had turned into a game they all played until there was none left.

Killian got her back by taking the last onion ring from her plate, aided by her son distracting her, the little traitor. Now she knew how David felt.

“Bye Killian!” Henry said. “See you on Monday!”

During lunch he’d invited both Henry and Paige to visit the movie set on Monday after camp. Emma knew Henry was going to talk about nothing else until then. David was going to be just thrilled to hear all about it during Sunday dinner.

They all slid out of the booth and she went to grab the bill so she could take it up to the cash register at the front, only to see that it had disappeared off the table. Emma frowned, wondering if it had fallen on the floor.

“Ah,” Killian said, and he was even better at sleight of hand than she was because when she looked up she saw he had it, having lifted it without her even noticing. “Let me get this.”

Her initial reaction was to protest, it wasn’t like they’d been on a date or anything, plus it wasn’t just her grilled cheese, it was Henry’s turkey special too on the bill. He must have seen her reluctance on her face because he added, “Consider it thanks for keeping me company, I was just going to get takeaway for one and this was much more fun than eating by myself.”

“Okay,” she found herself agreeing. “Thanks.”

Granny came bustling over from behind the counter. “Hang on, Sheriff, you almost forgot these.”

She handed over two oversized candy canes, Henry snatched one and immediately unwrapped a cellophaned end, sticking it in his mouth like an old man with a cigar.

“Thanks Granny!” he beamed around his mouthful of peppermint before bounding towards the door. “See you on Monday, Killian! Don’t forget!”

“They come with the turkey special,” Granny explained in response to Emma’s questioning look. “And here’s one for our visitor, too, on the house. Come back anytime, Mr. Jones. You were very good for business today. Try the lobster bisque next.”

She handed another candy cane to Killian, looking very pleased with herself. The diner had been more crowded than usual during lunch, now that Emma thought about it, and there had definitely been a higher than average amount of teenage girls. Emma watched through narrowed eyes while Granny went back to the counter and waited until she was out of earshot.

“Take my advice,” she said to Killian, leaning in to murmur it low in his ear, “don’t try the bisque.”

“I heard that, Sheriff!”

Okay, so maybe Granny wasn’t quite out of earshot.

“I think you just made the naughty list, Swan,” Killian chuckled.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

She smirked at his stunned look, feeling something that she hadn’t felt in a long time when she turned and headed for the door, something that made her put a little bit more of a swing in her hips than was strictly necessary and unwrapping her own candy cane as she went. Maybe it wasn’t very professional of her to flirt with him like that, especially when Granny Lucas apparently had the hearing of a woman half her age, but hey, she was off duty and he was only going to be in town for a short while. What was the harm?

The candy cane was pretty good, Emma had to admit to herself.

Hey, candy was candy, no matter what month it was.

***********

David, predictably, was less than pleased at Sunday dinner to hear about Killian’s invitation, and was even grumpier the following week when Henry was still on cloud nine after visiting a real live movie set. He got to hear all about how cool Killian was, and how Henry and Paige got to watch him film a scene while sitting in real director’s chairs, and then they got to be extras in the background and were actually going to be in the movie and wasn’t that the coolest thing ever? Everyone at camp had been so jealous.

“They’re not the only ones,” Emma said with a knowing smile, glancing over at her brother.

“I am not jealous!” David protested. His crossed arms and childish pout told a different story. “Why would I be jealous? Pass me the potatoes.”

Emma handed him the bowl and he started spooning them onto his plate with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Hey Mom?” Henry asked, oblivious to his uncle’s black mood as he took a roll from the basket Mary Margaret was offering to him, “Can I be Prince Charles for Halloween?”

“Prince Charles?” Mary Margaret repeated, putting the basket of rolls down and looking completely baffled.

“Not Prince Charles, Prince Charles,” Emma tried to explain, which only made her look even more confused. “Not the real Prince Charles, I mean. The character Killian played on Doctor Who was named Prince Charles, it was this running gag because he was from a different planet and didn’t know there was a Prince Charles here too so everyone thought he was joking when he said that was his name. Especially since he’s a lot more hand-“

She caught herself before she finished the thought and covered it up with a cough, trying to divert attention away from the fact that she’d almost just called him handsome in front of both her brother and her son. Judging by David’s rolled eyes and Mary Margaret’s raised eyebrows she wasn’t entirely successful, although thankfully Henry didn’t appear to have noticed.

“But, kid,” she continued, “Halloween costumes already? It’s only August. You’ll change your mind ten times before October.”

He shook his head. “No, I won’t, I promise! Please Mom? Please?”

“You said that last year about Iron Man, but then you wanted to be Boba Fett instead, remember?”

“This is different!”

Henry had that stubborn look on his face, the same one he had whenever he’d made his mind up about something, like which was the best Star Wars movie after Empire, (it was Rogue One) or that peas were gross (she agreed with him there), the look that Neal claimed he got from her and boy did that never fail to piss her off. But Neal was back in Boston (with Tamara, that little voice in her head oh so helpfully reminded her, the woman he said she didn’t have to worry about) and while he may have been right about where their son got that particular trait, she didn’t feel like arguing with Henry tonight, especially not so close to Christmas…

…fuck. It was August. She blamed the constant stream of Christmas music and the decorations Mary Margaret had put up already. Her Bug could only pick up the local station and it was too old (or vintage, as she preferred to call it) to have Bluetooth, so they'd arrived at the farm before dinner with the Little Drummer Boy rum-pa-pum-pumming away from the radio to find enough wireframe reindeer set up in the yard to pull Santa’s sleigh and a wreath on the door, while inside the stockings Ruth had made were hanging up on the fireplace mantle and even Fandral the golden retriever was jauntily dressed in a festive red plaid collar instead of his normal black one.

“They won’t make a costume for that,” Emma said instead of saying no outright, trying to let Henry down easy, “he’s not a big enough character.”

He frowned, looking down at his plate and chewing on his lip. She knew she was right, Target wasn’t going to have a Prince Charles costume alongside the umpteen Spidermans and Elsas.

“I could make it,” Mary Margaret offered.

Henry looked up, hope flaring bright on his face. “You could?”

“I’ve been meaning to get Ruth’s old sewing machine down from the attic to make a few, um, projects anyway, it’ll be good practice. Do you have a picture of it?

“Mom?”

He swiveled to face Emma with big, excited eyes. She had her phone sitting on the dinner table in case there was an emergency back at the station, like Mr. Gold getting another call asking if his refrigerator was running or Regina making an urgent report after catching someone littering. With a few taps she opened Instagram, going to Killian’s profile and scrolling back until she found a photo he’d posted of himself dressed in the Prince Charles costume of a long brown coat worn over a white shirt and black vest.

“It doesn’t look easy to make,” she warned, turning the screen towards Mary Margaret. Emma wasn’t the crafty type, not like her “I saw it on Pinterest!” spouting sister-in-law, but that coat seemed pretty complicated. Mary Margaret took the phone to have a closer look and squinted down at the photo, chewing her lip just like Henry.

“I’ll have to look for a pattern that I can adapt into the coat, and it’ll take a decent amount of fabric, but I should be able to copy it.”

“Yes!” Henry was bouncing in his seat, “See Mom? Aunt Mary can make it for me!”

Emma wondered if she’d ever stop getting caught by surprise every time David showed up at her house with his toolbox whenever she complained about the water pressure in the shower or the window that refused to open, or when Mary Margaret made social media-worthy cupcakes for Emma to take to the PTA meeting after she had a late shift at the station the night before and had no time (or skill) to bake herself. Her knee-jerk reaction was usually to protest, to say she could handle it herself, except she had to admit she wouldn’t be able to make anywhere near as good of a costume as Mary Margaret could make no matter which online tutorial she tried to follow.

“Okay,” she agreed, knowing she was powerless against the both of them now that they’d teamed up against her, “but, Mary Margaret, if it turns out it’s too much work for you-”

“Bah,” she interrupted. “What’s family for? Henry’s going to be the best Prince Charles in Storybrooke when I’m done.”

“He’s going to be the only Prince Charles in Storybrooke,” David pointed out. “Sure you don’t want to be Han Solo this year? I can be Chewbacca.”

“Nope!” Henry said, his ten year old mind clearly made up. Which meant he’d probably change it tomorrow, just like he’d gone from insisting that he had to be Iron Man one day to Boba Fett the next last year, but for now, her son was going to be a two-episode character that no one except die hard Doctor Who fans would recognize for Halloween.

David continued to sulk in his chair and stab at his food while Mary Margaret handed the phone back to Emma. It was still open on the photo from Killian’s Instagram and when she looked down she saw the heart was now filled in, meaning Mary Margaret had liked the months-old post.

Crap.

She narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law, who was calmly serving herself from a snowflake patterned bowl that normally didn’t appear until December. For someone who dressed and acted like a 1950s schoolteacher with her pastel sweater sets and sunny, glass-is-half-full optimism, she had a suspiciously satisfied look on her face.

“Pass the salt, please,” she asked mildly, meeting Emma’s gaze over Henry’s head. “It’s certainly a nice…costume, isn’t it, Emma?”

Yeah, liking Killan’s post was no accident.

************

If there was one place in town that Emma would have bet actual cash on not giving in to the red-and-green wave that had spread through Storybrooke like a zombie apocalypse, only with a horde of gingerbread men instead of the walking dead, it was The Rabbit Hole.

Nope.

The shitty dive bar atmosphere of mismatched glassware and pool tables with faded felt was somehow even shittier with one of those white artificial trees set up in the corner and old-school multicolored lights strung haphazardly around the walls. At least there wasn’t any Christmas music playing—Emma may or may not have looked up flights to Canada one afternoon at the station while plotting how to murder Michael Buble and make it look like a tragic accident—classic rock thumped in the background instead when she walked in the door.

Henry was spending his monthly weekend in Boston with Neal and Ruby had dragged Emma out of her empty house to hit the town. In Storybrooke the pickings were slim, it wasn’t like there were any wine bars or clubs, so they went down to The Rabbit Hold alongside everyone else who wanted to blow off some steam on a Saturday night. Which included a bunch of the movie people, Emma saw the seven Teamsters pounding back beers together at a table and Merida throwing back shots as if they were water, while Arthur was hitting on anything in a skirt. Including Emma herself when they first arrived, which…no. Even though he was a good looking guy and would be far from the first asshole she ever slept with, she did not need to get laid that badly.

“You know it’s August, right?” she said to Ruby, pointing at the headband she was wearing. It had reindeer antlers. She was also wearing a short, sparkly red dress that would fit in perfectly at a Christmas party, but then again she wore red year round anyway.

“So? Lighten up, Emma, you’re giving off serious Grinch vibes, you know.”

She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at Ruby, which probably proved her point. Emma had to admit she was in a grinchy mood, with Henry gone and the house so much quieter without him there.

“You need a drink, and a dick, and not necessarily in that order.”

One thing about Ruby Lucas that anyone who spent more than five minutes with her learned was that while she may live in a storybook town that looked like the very definition of family friendly, she talked like she was starring in her own show on HBO.

“Let’s start with the drink,” Emma said, steering Ruby towards the bar and not having much hope of finishing with a dick.

The thing about small towns where everyone knew each other was that...it was a small town and everyone knew each other. One night stands were super awkward when you had to pull them over for speeding a week later after they never called you back, and she didn’t need Mary Margaret to start wedding planning after hearing from Ashley at the grocery store that her boyfriend Sean had been told by his friend Philip that Emma had left the bar the night before with someone they’d all known all their lives. So she nursed her Sam Adams (you could take the girl out of Boston, but you couldn’t take Boston out of the girl) for as long as possible and watched Ruby work her mojo instead of looking for someone to give her the “D” - as Ruby so unsubtly put it. Not that Ruby herself was leaning that way either, since she ended up doing shots with Merida and from the way they were looking at each other, leaning in close to speak in the other’s ear even though it wasn’t that loud, “friendly” touches to hands and arms and shoulders that lasted a little too long...yeah. Ruby wasn’t going home alone.

Well, she did like red. That extended to redheads, apparently.

“So...looks like your friend is having a Highland fling tonight.”

Emma looked over as Killian Jones sat down next to her in the seat Ruby had abandoned to go visit Scotland instead. He tipped his glass towards the pair, Ruby was now sitting on Merida’s lap with her dress riding dangerously high up her thighs and Emma really hoped she wouldn’t have to arrest her best friend for indecent exposure.

Again.

“I guess so,” she drawled, waiting to see if he was going to leer and make some gross comment about how hot two girls were together. He didn’t though, he just finished his drink and waved at the bartender.

“Another rum, neat, and one of whatever the lady is having.”

He looked good, that knife’s edge jaw covered with dark scruff several hours past a five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes bright even in the dimly lit room. Blue eyes that were fixed firmly on her, making Emma warmer than the liquor or the balmy summer night.

Ruby and Merida disappeared together at some point, Emma wasn’t really sure when. She drank the beer Killian bought her, and then bought him a drink, because she was an adult with a job and her own credit card and he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

Especially because he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

“Need a police escort home?” she asked, when his glass was empty and she knew the burn between her thighs wouldn’t be satisfied with her own hand tonight. Technically she was off the clock, but it was her sworn duty to protect and serve the people of the town, and that included handsome visiting actors with accents more delicious than candy canes or pumpkin spice lattes. It was just hitting midnight when they left The Rabbit Hole into a clear night of sea breeze coming in off the ocean and the stars above guiding their way like the sailors coming home to the lovers left behind on land. There was heat in the air, heat between them in the heavy-lidded glances they shared that were thick with anticipation, heat in the rum Emma wanted to taste directly from his mouth instead of a glass. She pulled him to her by his necklace, fingers wrapping in the cool metal of the chain and her back hitting the wall behind them.

The music from the bar was still faintly audible when their lips met, bass notes echoing like the beat of her pulse as she felt the kiss all the way to her toes. He caged her in place, hand sliding to the back of her neck and she met him more than halfway, her hips pressing against the bulge she could feel in his tight jeans and sliding her tongue along his reddened bottom lip. She relished his shiver when she grazed it with her teeth.

Killian pulled back, his eyes a glittering line through dark lashes and his voice a rasp of liquor and lust.

“Swan, are you sure?”

Emma really, really shouldn’t be doing this for a number of really, really good reasons, she had a kid, she had to oversee the rest of the movie shoot, Regina would probably kill her if she found out, literally, not figuratively, but, fuck it.

“Yes.”

He was staying in a house that the production company had arranged for him, he explained, a giant Victorian affair with gingerbread trim and one of those wide wrap-around porches that was made for a swing. Killian seemed slightly embarrassed when she couldn’t stop herself from gaping at it, although who could blame her, the house had a damn turret, for fuck’s sake. He fumbled with the lock and muttered that it was far too big for one person but it had been on the market for ages with no takers so they got a good deal on a short term rental. She followed him in when he finally got the door open, catching a glimpse of a kitchen that would have Mary Margaret squeeing over the vintage appliances and a giant bay window before he was on her, mouth latching onto her neck and all thoughts of her sister-in-law and architectural details flew out of her head. Strong hands reached under her thighs, lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his hips. The line of his erection pressed against the damp lace under her dress with the movement, making them both shudder.

Killian carried, actually carried, her up the stairs, like she was a heroine from Bridgerton or something and not just a blonde he picked up at a bar, and damn if that wasn’t even more of a turn on. They tumbled through a door and onto a bed, her ankles crossing behind his back while he continued to grind between her thighs, his tongue in her mouth and his hands now planted rather firmly on her ass. She didn’t mind that at all and was eager to get her hands on him too, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt to find bare skin that was scorching to the touch when she dragged it up his sides. He had to go up on his knees on the bed to get it off completely, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side as soon as his arms were free. His chest was dusted with a generous amount of dark hair, it turned into a line that went down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans with a tantalizing hint of the treasure that lay at the end of the trail. There was something so delightfully male about it, and the noise he made when she raked her nails through the fine mat was even better.

Her dress was next to go, and while she hadn’t gone out with the expectation of getting laid she had worn something underneath that definitely meant she wasn’t opposed to the idea, lace-trimmed and sheer in all the right places and would look damn good on Killian’s bedroom floor. He pulled a bra strap down with his teeth and swirled his tongue around her nipple, bringing it to a tight pebble in his mouth while his fingers worked at the button of his jeans.

“You have condoms, right?” she asked, voice more than a little breathless and her back arching to give him better access.

“Yes,” he answered, flicking his tongue one more time over the tight peak before his dark head came up and he winked at her. “But we’ve got time before we need them.”

He leaned forward then and kissed her, far more softly this time. The hookups she’d had after her breakup with Neal had been more about scratching the itch, getting off and getting out as soon as possible. She’d almost forgotten it could be like this instead. Killian kept his word and took his time, kissing a line down her neck and back to her breasts, lavishing each one in turn with licks and sucks that had her flushed right down to her navel. When he hooked his thumbs in the lace clinging to her hips and dragged it down she was more than ready, slick with arousal under his fingers while he braced himself on one arm to reach between her legs. He slid up and down in a friction that had her gripping his shoulders and holding on against the wave that was poised to drag her under. When he slid two fingers inside and crooked them just right she met his eyes for a moment, the blue swallowed in a dark storm of desire, before her head tipped back helplessly into his pillow and she fell over the edge with a gasp.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Another kiss was pressed to her lips while she lay panting for air and then he reached over to the bedside table and pulled open a drawer, rummaging around blindly inside until he found the box of condoms. Emma saw that it was unopened, which made her wonder if she was the first woman he’d slept with since he arrived in town. Not that it really mattered, this was just a one time thing, but still.

His boxer briefs were tented with his erection. She sat up and slid her palm over it while he was tearing a condom off the string and his hips jerked into her hand. A smirk played at her lips as she did it again, before toying with the waistband and tracing the lines of his abs with the tip of her nail.

“You said we had time, right?”

His accent was thicker, rougher, when he answered. “I did, didn’t I?”

Emma peeled the cotton down his thighs and pushed him onto his back, plucking the condom from his unresisting hand for later and laying it on the sheets next to his hips. As late as it already was, she wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. They had time, time for her to lick a teasing stripe up the length of him and watch the muscles in his stomach contract at the sensation, time to take him in her mouth and continue the tease with her tongue. Each gasp and groan that followed made her feel sexy, gorgeous, desired, all the things she didn’t usually have time for in her daily life. When she finally released him her was rock hard and the second the condom was rolled on he dragged her onto his lap, a wrecked look on his face. It was just the right side of rough when he thrust up, hands tight on her hips and breath hot on her neck. His beard rasped against her skin while the thick drag of his erection rocked inside her, she was going to feel it in the morning and she relished the thought.

They found a rhythm, Emma riding him to the tempo only they could hear, rolling her hips and squeezing around him. The bed creaked with the movement and his deep groans mixed with her own higher-pitched cries. He filled her on each stroke, it felt amazing and yet it wasn’t quite enough to bring her off again. Killian seemed to sense it when she started to falter, chasing the high that stayed just out of reach. He tightened his arms around her back and rolled them, settling on top of her and giving a heavy thrust that made her toes curl and her back arch. Her eyes squeezed shut and one of his hands found hers, lacing their fingers together against the mattress and holding tight. The other lifted her knee and changed the angle just enough to give her that last little push she needed to come a second time.

Killian followed her a few moments later, burying his face in her neck and his back slick with sweat as he shuddered through his climax.

“That was,” he breathed, clearly too blissed out to even finish the thought.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

It had been the best sex she’d had in a long time, blowing every other one-night stand completely out of the water. She had no illusions that it was more, he was only in town for a short time and it was all she wanted, anyway.

“Does Granny’s serve breakfast?”

The sudden question from the pleasant weight pinning her to the bed caught her off guard. “What, like right now?”

Killian chuffed quietly into her shoulder. “No, it’s just that I’ve got nought but some tea and toast to offer you in the morning, and I think I’ve finally finished digesting that cheeseburger by now.”

That made her snort, remembering the look on his face when he’d first encountered Granny’s idea of a portion size. It took her another second to realize that he expected her to not only stay the night, but to stay for breakfast. It was sweet, but-

There was always a but.

But if she went to Granny’s Diner with him in the morning, wearing the same dress she’d worn to The Rabbit Hole the night before, the whole town would know they’d slept together before the lunch rush. She should make an excuse to leave, find her underwear, and go home.

Killian kissed her neck and got out of bed, disappearing into an ensuite bathroom. She’d tell him she had the early morning shift at the station, she’d tell him Henry was coming home and she had to go, she’d tell him something, anything, and leave…

The combination of alcohol and incredible sex was making her limbs heavy and the prospect of having to put her bra back on was about as appealing at the moment as a budget meeting with Mayor Mills. Plus his bed was so comfy, king-sized and covered in pillows that she wanted to bury herself in.

Emma was almost asleep when Killian climbed back into bed, one arm snaking around her waist and pulling her so that she was spooned against him with her back to his front. Lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

Just before she drifted off completely she felt a pang of regret, that she couldn’t go out for breakfast with him in the morning or go home with him again at night no matter how good looking he was or how good he was in bed.

Or how good he was with her son.

It was just a one time thing.

********

“A grilled cheese and onion rings, right Emma?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.”

Ruby jotted the order down on her pad and turned to Henry. “And for you, kiddo?”

“No turkey special?”

She rested a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Fraid not. Back to the old menu now, I can do a burger, or the lobster bisque.”

Emma suppressed a shudder. Luckily Henry wasn’t much interested in lobster unless they were raining down from the sky, and he ordered a cheeseburger with fries instead. In addition to the old menu Granny’s Diner was back to the regular decor, the napkins were white, the mini trees were gone, and the jukebox was playing Top 40 hits from the Reagan administration instead of Christmas music. No more Michael Buble, no one was wearing Santa hats, or wishing each other happy holidays, the Bean & Brew was back to promoting iced coffees instead of pumpkin spice lattes and everything was back to normal in Storybrooke.

Just what Emma had been waiting for.

Henry started chattering away about whatever was currently going viral, something that was of vital importance to any self-respecting ten year old. Emma listened with half an ear, waiting for their order. Ruby brought over Henry’s milkshake and her hot chocolate with cinnamon. It was slightly cooler now than it had been a few weeks ago, but it was still almost seventy degrees out. She’d just been in the mood for one.

“Crap, I forgot to add the cinnamon. Sorry Emma, I’ll go grab it.”

Before she left the bell over the door rang, announcing a new arrival to the diner. Emma’s back was to it so she couldn’t see who it was at first, it was Ruby who looked over first and a smile broke over her face.

“Hey, look who just came back to town.”

Emms felt her heartbeat quicken and a flush rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat coming from her drink. Henry was grinning and waving like a maniac and she took a breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When she opened them and turned around she immediately locked eyes with the man who’d just walked in.

“Oh,” she said, slumping down in her seat and unable to stop the wave of disappointment washing over her. “It’s August.”

*********

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma smiled and took the festive red cup from the barista, a young man wearing an elf hat with his green apron.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She stepped outside of the packed Starbucks after adding an extra dash of cinnamon from the condiment bar to her gingerbread hot chocolate, beanie pulled down over her ears and her jacket zipped up to her chin. The cold still nipped at her cheeks and her breath immediately fogged the air, it was December, after all.

Fortifying herself against the chill with a sip of her drink, she joined the throng packing the sidewalk. The skyscrapers above, the massive crowds, the Starbucks and takeout places on every corner, New York City was a far cry from Storybrooke.

Henry’s list of exciting things to happen in their sleepy little town now included the day when the FBI had arrived without warning to arrest Mr. Gold. It turned out that the pawn shop owner and richest man in Storybrooke had made his money years prior by defrauding investors in a scheme where he claimed to be able to create gold from inexpensive materials, like lab-created diamonds, that was indistinguishable from the real thing. In truth, it was all a scam and the supposed gold was fake. By the time his investors found out they’d been fleeced, he’d taken the money and run. “Gold” wasn’t even his real name, he’d chosen that as his alias and from Emma’s acquaintance with him she was sure he was probably feeling very smug and satisfied with himself over his not so clever little joke. Storybrooke had been his hiding spot with his young trophy wife and stolen cash, the townspeople none the wiser until a literal SWAT team showed up.

Emma had caught him before he crossed the town line, trying to flee in a car that had just been reported stolen to the local radio station instead of the sheriff’s department. She’d been completely unaware of the special task force that was raiding his house at the same time, a group of highly trained agents who didn’t look too happy that it was a small town cop who’d actually apprehended the man who was fifth on their top ten most wanted list when she brought him in.

Gold had stolen a lot of money. A lot.

As the arresting officer she’d had to come to New York City, the scene of Gold’s crime, to give a formal statement in person at the FBI’s field office, answer the same questions over and over again about a hundred times, sign more paperwork than the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department generated in six months, and accept her share of the reward money.

Yes Virginia, there was reward money.

Enough to pay off her student loans, put a sizable chunk into Henry’s college fund, splurge on a killer leather jacket that she’d been eyeing online forever and looked damn good in, if she did say so herself, and buy some very nice Christmas presents for the people in her life. She had several things already stashed back in her hotel room for Mary Margaret and David, although her idiot brother was still in the doghouse with her for the little stunt he’d pulled. Bound and determined to prove he was Henry’s cool uncle (never mind the fact that he was Henry’s only uncle) he’d let her ten year old son drive his truck.

Right into a town mailbox.

She should have bought him a lump of coal instead of AirPods. Luckily Regina was too busy gloating over Gold’s arrest and the defeat of her longtime nemesis to notice the wilful destruction of town property before Graham had it removed. Emma, on the other hand, had threatened both David and Henry with a weekend in side by side cells at the station with nothing but bread and water if they ever did it again. Technically that was a misuse of police authority, but considering she had a citation from the FBI with a fancy seal and everything now posted above her desk she felt she could get away with it.

David’s gift was done, Mary Margaret’s was done (along with a few gifts for the new addition to the family that had been tearfully announced at Thanksgiving, Baby Boy or Girl Nolan would be making his or her appearance right around Easter) and while she’d picked up several things for Henry, there was one item on his list she was still trying to snag.

Gingerbread hot chocolate in hand, she crossed 34th street and walked into Macy’s to hit up the special Lego pop-up holiday store inside. It carried several sets that weren’t available anywhere else, not even online, including a limited edition Star Wars themed one that Henry had declared to be the coolest Lego set ever. He wasn’t the only one, it was such a hot ticket item among Lego enthusiasts that the store only put out a few at completely random times of the day to discourage scalpers and they always sold out immediately. There were even Twitter accounts solely devoted to posting when they were available, Emma had followed them all in desperation but had no luck so far. Now she was down to her last night in New York before heading back to Storybrooke and she was going to give it one more try even though she had little hope of finding one.

But for Henry, it was worth a shot.

Like every other store Macy’s was completely done up for the holidays, with garlands of tinsel and greenery draped everywhere, giant stars hanging from the ceiling, and Paul McCartney simply having a wonderful Christmastime over the loudspeakers. The entrance to the pop-up itself was flanked by two six-foot tall nutcrackers made of Lego, and inside there was a Lego Christmas tree that everyone stopped at to take photos. As impressive as it was, Emma was on a mission and she bypassed all the tourists taking selfies to make her way straight to the Star Wars section, feeling a bit like Princess Leia when she knelt down by the life-sized Lego R2-D2 to check the lowest shelf just in case one had been shoved back there.

Hey only hope was dashed when all she found was a line of Baby Yodas.

“Excuse me,” she straightened up and snagged one of the employees walking by in his “Merry and Br(icks)ight” T-shirt, “are there any of those limited edition May The Force Be With You sets out right now?”

He shook his head, juggling an armful of Imperial tie fighters. “No, sorry, we’re already sold out of those for the day. You can try again tomorrow.”

She couldn’t, but she didn’t say it. “Okay, thanks.”

It had always been a longshot, but she couldn’t help the stab of dejection. Some part of her had thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d miraculously be able to find one for her son and make his Christmas dream come true. The employee walked off and she gave one final, resigned look at the display of Millenium Falcons before she left the store too, just in case.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Emma turned around at the voice to find another employee standing behind her, and older man with white hair and glasses. He looked a bit familiar, but before she could figure out how her gaze dropped to the box he was holding. She recognized it on sight even though she could hardly believe what she was seeing, it was the limited edition, impossible to find even on eBay, May The Force Be With You Lego set, number one on Henry’s Christmas list.

“I couldn’t help but overhear, is this what you were looking for?”

She took it from him, almost too stunned to speak. “Yes,” she managed to squeak out, sounding like a little kid, “yes, this is the one my son wants. But I thought it was sold out?”

“Ah,” he smiled. “There was just this one left in the back, I’m glad I was able to grab it for you. Merry Christmas to you and your son.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She turned the box over carefully in a bit of a daze, double and triple checking to make sure it was really the right one and she wasn’t seeing things. When she looked up to thank the employee again, he was already gone.

Huh. Weird.

On her way to the checkout she got stopped three separate times by people offering to buy the set off her, it was that hot. It was also ridiculously expensive, like holy shit, how much kind of expensive, but she didn’t even flinch at the total when she swiped her credit card. It was for Henry, and that was all that mattered.

The temperature had dropped some more by the time she left Macy’s and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her hotel and order some room service, since she was on official business all her expenses were paid for and an overpriced grilled cheese and a glass of wine from the mini-bar followed by a hot bath were calling to her, but she had one final thing to do in New York before she left.

When Henry had found out about her trip he’d been incredibly excited, which surprised her because she’d been expecting him to be disappointed that she had to leave so close to Christmas and would miss out on both the Town Hall carol sing and David and Mary Margaret’s annual ugly Christmas sweater party. It turned out he was so thrilled because the nonstop holiday movie marathon that had been going on in their house all month thanks to Disney Plus had included numerous viewings of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. Henry had all these grand plans for her trip, that she was going to stay in a lavish suite at the Plaza Hotel, visit Duncan’s Toy Chest, and be driven around in a limousine, just like Kevin McCallister did when he got separated from his family, again.

Right.

She was staying at a nondescript Hilton in midtown, was taking cabs instead of limos, and had to break the news to Henry that the toy store in the movie was fictional.

There was one key location though that wasn’t either insanely expensive or non-existent and she hailed a cab, keeping a tight hold on her shopping bag as she slid into the backseat and told the driver where she wanted to go. He pulled away from the curb and Emma watched the streets go by from the window, storefronts all decorated and a kaleidoscope of lights reflecting on the glass.

“The WYNC-FM weather forecast is brought to you by the Hallmark Channel, where every night is Christmas Eve! Tune in tonight for Mistletoe and Memories, a brand new movie about a secret, second-chance romance at the holidays! ”The latest weather forecast has changed again and most of the Eastern seaboard can expect to see a white Christmas this year, with snow expected on the twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth. Maine in particular will receive several inches spread over the holidays, especially in the coastal parts of the state. And to celebrate, here’s the time-honored classic itself.”

The radio station started playing White Christmas, Bing Crosby’s gravelly voice drifting out of the speakers. Henry would be happy to hear there was going to be snow on Christmas, while it had definitely been cold and blustery in Storybrooke, there hadn’t been any snow yet. He’d asked if the town could get one of those machines they used to make the movie and have Christmas all year round.

Emma didn’t find the idea nearly as unappealing as she might have a few months ago.

“We’re here, miss.”

After paying the fare she stepped out and was immediately looked up. The famous Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre was a lot taller in person than it was on screen in Home Alone 2, she had to crane her neck to see all the way up to the star on top. It was covered in lights and shone bright against the night sky, presiding over the open plaza below. At the foot of it was a skating rink, and despite the near freezing temperatures it was still full of people gliding back and forth on the ice. There were tourists come to sightsee milling about, couples bundled up against the cold walking arm-in-arm, hot dog carts and souvenir stands and the whole scene was all very quintessentially New York.

Back home in Storybrooke they had their own tree-lighting ceremony on a much smaller scale at the Town Hall a few weeks prior to kickoff the season, followed by the “Gala Premiere,” as Regina called it, of Storybrooke’s very own Christmas movie. The gala premiere consisted of a screen and a projector set up in the high school auditorium, hot drinks catered by the Bean & Brew, and a rented popcorn machine. David and Mary Margaret came, and Ashley and Sean, and Paige and her dad, and a very, very excited Henry with Emma in tow, all to watch the bookish small-town girl played by Christina Bell fall for the visiting, mysterious Englishman played by Killian Jones, against a backdrop of fake snow and careful editing to hide the fact that it had been filmed in August. They’d renamed the movie, instead of A Midnight Clear it was now A Count for Christmas, because the big reveal was that Killian’s character was actually a count.

Henry was already planning next year’s Halloween costume based on it. As David had predicted, no one had known who he was supposed to be in the Prince Charles costume Mary Margaret had painstakingly made when he went out trick-or-treating with Paige in her much more recognizable Scarlet Witch outfit from Target. But Henry hadn’t cared, not when the official Doctor Who Instagram account itself had reposted the picture Emma had taken of him all dressed up.

She was pretty sure she had Killian to thank for that.

So next year her son was going to be a count instead of a prince. The scene where he and Paige were extras in the background had lasted less than a minute, and only the back of his head was briefly visible on screen, but in true Mike Wazowski fashion none of that had mattered to him and he’d proclaimed to anyone who’d listen, Ruby, the mailman, his dentist, Pongo the Dalmatian, that he’d actually been in a movie!

It was cheesy, and sappy, and sentimental, and all the things Emma swore up and down she wasn’t into.

Maybe she was, a little bit.

A clip from it even went viral, of a rather smoldering look Killian had shot to Christina that was very un-Hallmark like and more suited to something on HBO. It blew up on TikTok, to the point where Killian had even been interviewed by several media outlets and gained over a hundred thousand Instagram followers. Emma was happy for his success (and maybe, just maybe a tiny bit jealous that the look hadn’t been directed at her), although she wasn’t as thrilled as Regina, who actually put out a press release about Storybrooke’s role in the clip.

The selfie Emma took with the Rockefeller Christmas tree behind her wasn’t going to go viral when she posted it on Instagram, adding the caption “not so lost in New York”. That was okay,

it was for Henry and his love of Christmas movies, belief in superheroes and magic and all the good things in the world that she might have forgotten about without him in her life.

There was a busker in the plaza in fingerless gloves and a Santa hat, playing the guitar. Naturally, it was a Christmas song. Even though she’d only planned to grab the photo with the tree and then head back to her hotel, she found herself staying to listen.

Emma recognized the irony of it, after all her complaining back in August about the non-stop Christmas music that drove her to secretly plot how to take out the three worst offenders, Josh Groban, Mariah Carey, and Michael Buble (he was Canadian, so it involved a hockey stick and maple syrup) she’d come around and actually didn’t mind the acoustic version of All I Want For Christmas Is You the busker was strumming. A small group had gathered around to listen and when he finished, she clapped along with them. His guitar case was open on the ground by his feet for donations and a few people tossed in some coins and small bills.

She dropped in a fifty, with the reward money safely deposited in her bank account she could afford to spread some extra Christmas cheer to a stranger. His eyes absolutely lit up when he saw it and she smiled to herself.

“Thank you everyone, I hope you’re all having a lovely evening tonight,” he said to the crowd. “Are there any requests?”

The question was directed at her and there was one song, in particular, that immediately sprang to mind.

“Do you know It Came Upon a Midnight Clear?”

He thought to himself for a moment, plucking a few experimental chords on his guitar. Then he found it, and music filled the air again. As far as Christmas songs went it was softer than a lot of the other, more popular ones, it was wistful, with just a hint of melancholy but ending on a hopeful note. Even though the title of the Hallmark movie had been changed, they kept a scene where Christina and Killian’s characters had to meet up at midnight to break into the library and find the stolen deed to Killian’s ancestral estate that proved he was the rightful heir so he could claim his title. The song had played while snow fell around them as they opened the book of fairytales where the deed had been hidden and found it at last.

Emma had heard Merida cursing at the snow machine with insults that got increasingly more Scottish when it kept malfunctioning the day they filmed the scene, even the seven Teamsters were shocked by how colorful some of them were, and that asshole Arthur had been in a giant snit by the delay and was even more insufferable than usual. But it all came together in the end and watching the final result in the darkened Storybrooke High gym with Henry beside her staring in slack-jawed awe at the screen like it was Avengers Endgame, she had to admit it was worth it.

Movie magic, as Henry called it.

“Emma? Emma, are you here? SWAN!”

The voice cut through the music and the crowd, rising above them all and she felt herself frown, turning in a circle to look for whoever the hell it was who was calling her name. She was alone in the middle of New York City, hundreds of miles away from home.

A man pushed his way through a knot of tourists clustered around one of the hot dog carts and came to a halt several feet away as he caught sight of her. Emma froze on the spot, too shocked by the unexpected sight in front of her to do anything except stare as the music and the crowd and everything else faded away.

It was Killian Jones.

She blinked.

He was still there.

Dressed in a black puffer coat with a scarf around his neck but his head bare against the winter chill. His dark hair was longer than it was the last time she saw him back in Storybrooke the day after filming wrapped, a lock almost fell into his eyes and it curled around the tips of his ears in the winter breeze. He looked good and he looked happy, smiling bright as he crossed the last bit of distance between them.

“Fancy meeting you here, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“What? How?” she sputtered, not quite believing he was real. “Killian?”

“I saw your Instagram post.”

She saw now that he had his phone in one gloved hand and when he held it up, the photo she’d just posted was displayed on the screen. Her own phone suddenly vibrated inside her jacket and when she pulled it out, she saw a notification that officialkillianjones had liked her new post.

“I came to see if I could find you,” he explained, which didn’t exactly clear up her confusion.

“You came to find me…from London? Did you Apparate here, or something?”

“No,” he chuckled, “alas, I’m only a Muggle. No, I’ve been in New York for a few days now, I’ve been auditioning for a new TV series and I just got out of a meeting at the production office over there when your post popped up on my phone.”

He pointed across the plaza at one of the office buildings that surrounded it and she followed the motion, registering what he’d just said.

“You’re auditioning for a new TV show? That’s great!”

Was that a bit of a blush on his cheeks when he ducked his head or was it just red from the cold?

“Yeah, the meeting was actually to tell me I got the part. It was this whole last minute thing, they’ve been trying to full the role for months but couldn’t find anyone they liked, and then when that scene from A Count for Christmas went viral they contacted my agent to see if I was interested. So, I guess I have your lovely town to thank for helping me land it.”

“Oh, wow. Really?”

Henry was going to flip when she told him. He loved all that behind the scenes stuff and would be so proud that it was Storybrooke’s very own movie that was responsible for Killian getting the part.

Heck, she was kinda proud too.

“Really,” he winked. “I’ll have to thank everyone else in person, when we start filming.”

He couldn’t possibly mean…? She met his blue gaze and saw how intently he was looking at her, as if gauging her reaction.

“Start filming?” she asked, “In Storybrooke?”

He turned a bit sheepish, reaching up to scratch behind one ear. “Yeah, they also told me in the last meeting that they just settled on the filming location and signed the contract. Apparently your mayor put together a very impressive and persuasive proposal last week. Frankly, I think they were too intimidated by her to say no.”

Regina had been in a suspiciously good mood lately, but Emma had chalked that up to Gold’s arrest and to winning the town gingerbread house competition for a record-breaking fifth year in a row. Legitimately, too, even she had to admit Regina’s gingerbread castle was pretty dang impressive.

“So, you’re coming back to town,” she said, slowly, and quickly added, “for your TV show.”

“Looks like,” he agreed. “For at least six months of filming. Maybe longer.”

Killian was going to be staying in Storybrooke for at least six months. The official coolest person ever to set foot in it, according to Henry, and the man she hadn’t been able to get out of her head was coming back.

“Good.”

The single word that fell from her lips grew between them in the air with the promise of something more, something new and unexpected and exciting. Emma didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she was willing to find out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nattering on all about myself and I haven’t even asked, what are you doing in New York? Is Henry here with you? His Halloween costume was incredible, by the way.”

She shook her head with a laugh, “No, Henry’s back in Storybrooke with my brother and sister-in-law. As for why I’m here, that’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t I buy you a drink and you can tell me all about it. There’s a lovely little bar in the lobby of my hotel that does a great hot buttered rum. What do you say, Swan?”

She would say that hot buttered rum and a hot as fuck guy who was about to move to her small little town both sounded like Christmas had just come early.

“Lead the way.”

He offered her his arm like the count he’d played in the movie. She looped her hand through it and they started over to a waiting line of taxis on the other side of the square.

“What hotel are you staying at?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s the Plaza.”

Emma halted mid-step. He was staying at the Plaza?

“Seriously?”

Killian looked down at her, brows knitting together in a frown at her reaction. “Yes? The network put me up there, I understand it’s rather famous?

“Yeah, it is, it’s just, um, have you seen Home Alone 2?”

He made a face. “Once or twice when I was a child, I think. Now don’t go telling the Hallmark people this, but, truth be told, my deepest, darkest secret is that I don’t really like Christmas movies.”

Her shoulders silently shook with mirth, thinking of that interview he did post TikTok blowup where he’d absolutely gushed about them. He really was a damn good actor.

“Well, your secret’s safe with me. Although, really, they’re not so bad.”

The star on top of the Rockefeller Centre Christmas tree winked in the rearview mirror when they climbed into the backseat of a cab and started to drive away, Killian’s arm wrapping around her shoulder like it was meant to be there.

Yeah, Emma decided, Christmas movies were alright.

**********

Henry was thrilled when she came home for Christmas with both the most coveted Lego set on the planet and Killian Jones. He couldn’t leave the country while his work permit for the new TV show was being processed, and she wasn’t going to leave him all alone on Christmas.

David was less than pleased when she brought Killian over for Christmas Day dinner at the farm, although he hid it behind a smile and a handshake while Mary Margaret immediately fussed over their last-minute guest and Fandral the golden retriever ran circles around them.

Emma just hugged her brother and whispered in his ear, “This is payback for letting my ten year old son drive. Merry Christmas.”

[nakanodivision]

Happy Halloween!

from BittASweetZ

Ririko - Witch

“Hehe~ The cutest witch in Nakano has come to steal your heart! Soo, what do you think of my costume? Alice put her blood, sweat and tears into this, so you better not say anything bad! OH, before I forget, here, have a treat from the sweetest witch in Japan! ☆~”

You received a treat!

Chocolate Witch Hats. Pieces of chocolate that have been perfectly shaped into the hat of a witch. When you bite into them, they are filled with gooey, sweet caramel.

Shu - Demon

“ I’m not usually one for Halloween, but Ririko insisted that I dress up. At least the costume Alice made for me fits nicely. I’m not sure why she thought I’d be a good demon. Oh, Ririko said that people usually give out candy on Halloween, so here.”

You received a treat!

Devilish Licorice Tails. Grape flavored licorice with a triangle shaped piece of dark chocolate attached to the ends to make it look like the tail of a devil. The ends are even decorated with black ribbons.

Alice - Angel

“ It’s always so nice to see your work finished and worn, I hope Ririko and Shu enjoy their costumes! I had said that I would modify the concept of the angel costume and make it my own, unique costume, and I suppose I did a good job! I haven’t celebrated Halloween since I was in the states, so I’m very excited to celebrate it again! Here, have a treat that I made earlier today.”

You received a treat!

White Chocolate Halos. Pieces of white chocolate carved into the shape of a halo. There is edible gold glitter dusted onto the halos. The chocolate itself is of a very high quality, milky and not too sweet.