#SHE LIKES TO LINE UP HER TOYS SHE CAN TELL APART BUGS AND LOVES THEM

[zagreuses-toast]

I see you have fallen down the Gregor Fandom Rabbit Hole! I did the same thing like two weeks back and it's amazing to see the posts back on my dash <3 God what a good series

I picked up a copy of Gregor at a yard sale out of nostalgia and I'm now chewing through the entire series again through the library, And it's crazy how fast I can get through one of the books now compared to when I read them when I was like 8 or so. I forgot how good it was! My heart breaks for Gregor and his family, but Collins wrote the like, trauma responses and complicated feelings about all of it so well. I have a lot more appreciation for Gregor's mom too, god how does she do it. AND LUXA!!! AUGH!!! LUXA "I decide that every day is my last day alive" the underlander. And ripred. And twitch tip! Fav character as a kid fav character again. Man this series is just chockablock with trauma

[traekenimagines]

Hunting Season, Unseen: A Theo Raeken Imagine

So below the cut, there will some parts of Hunting Season that didn’t quite make it to full imagines. There will be a heading above each snippet so you can skip past anything you don’t want to read, but to warn you guys, I’m just going to provide a list here of what to expect:

Mutual Masturbation, Tit-fucking, Over-stimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Come-play, Anal/Ass-play, Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-fucking,Thigh-riding, and some other bog-standard smutty stuff. 

Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Mutual Masturbation

Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Theo’s hand pumping at his cock, couldn’t stop listening to the moans that escaped his mouth. The sight only spurred her on as she curled her fingers inside her core, picturing it was him doing this to her as her teeth found her bottom lip. “Fuck Theo, I’m going to come.”

She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t far off, his movements speeding up as he worked at himself. There was a knot building in her stomach, and she slid her fingers out of her core as it unravelled, letting the essence of her release drip down her legs. 

At the sight of her, Theo swore, growling as his cock twitched and he came in his hand. Both were breathless, both aroused only by the sight of the other coming undone, fucking themselves with as much vigour as they would had they been doing those things to each other. 

Y/N lay back on the bed and listened to the sound of Theo’s footsteps as he made his way over to her. She spread her legs, eyes closed in bliss as she felt his cock at her entrance. 

Tit-Fucking

Y/N circled her nipples with her thumbs as she held them against Theo’s cock, the chimera fucking the valley between her breasts as if it were her core. She was wet, soaked at her core at the image before her, and she couldn’t wait until that cock was buried deep inside of her. But she could feel the tip of Theo’s cock against her neck as he fucked her tits, her nipples hardening with each hiss of breath he let escape. 

“Are you going to come, baby? Are you going to come all over my tits?” She could feel him hardening, wanted him to have his release anywhere he liked. “Come all over me baby.”

Theo’s cock slipped from between Y/N’s breasts, his hand wrapping around it before he pumped it a few times. Y/N giggled as his release landed on her breasts, the warmth of it familiar. Her nipples were still hard, something Theo had clearly noted as he leaned down, mouth enveloping each as he cleaned her with his tongue. Y/N moaned, a sound that only intensified when Theo kissed her, and she could taste him on her tongue. 

She had done that to him, and it was power unlike anything she had ever felt. 

Over-Stimulation

“You’re so fucking sensitive, princess.” 

If Y/N had been able to talk, she would have told Theo that the reason she was so sensitive was because of him. She’d had his fingers inside of her, his tongue, every toy they owned, some she didn’t even remember buying. And he hadn’t let her come. 

She knew all it would take was for him to thrust his cock into her and she would explode. It was bad enough trying to hold it in now as his fingers brushed over her tender folds, her core pulsing with the need to come. But as it was, she couldn’t talk, so just whined, bucking her hips against his hands. 

“So fucking sensitive.” Theo chuckled. He shifted, positioning his cock at her entrance. Y/N opened her legs wider, and Theo seized an opportunity. “Tell me how much you need it, Y/N. Beg for it.”

“Please, Theo.” She shifted. “Just give it to me. Just fuck me. I’m so fucking sensitive, and I need your fucking cock inside of me.”

When the tip of Theo’s cock entered her, Y/N lost the ability to breathe. She could feel her wetness growing, could feel the product of an early release pulse from her core. She arched her back as he entered her to the hilt, screaming when she finally let go. 

Multiple Orgasms

“That’s it, baby. Just let go.” Theo was on his knees, Y/N on his lap, slowly moving herself up and down his cock. He had already come inside of her, his hand on the small of her back, his lips on her neck. He could feel her hands on the back of his neck, and he leaned up and kissed her as she continued to move. 

She had followed not long after her, and Theo had expected her to climb off him. But she had stayed, continuing to move. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he came again too, but he didn’t care. Not when all he wanted was for Y/N to find her satisfaction. 

“Need more of you,” she mumbled against his lips. “Need your cock in me all the time.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Theo sucked on her tongue, and felt Y/N’s grip on the back of his neck tighten. “Come on, Y/N. It’s okay.” She clenched around him, head thrown back as she came over him again. And still she continued to move. 

“Are you - are you going to come again?” She asked him, words not coming too easily. “I want you to come again.” She sped up in her movements, rotating her hips around him. Theo felt himself tense. 

“I’m coming again, baby.” His release was accompanied by a sloppy kiss, before he mouthed at Y/N’s cheek, tasting the sweat that had gathered on her skin. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. “How was that?”

“So,” she moaned between words, the sign of another release building, “so good. You’re so good.”

“And so are you, baby. So are you.”

Come-Play

Y/N stood, and Theo smirked as he saw how shaky she was. He had done that to her, had fucked her hard just like last time. He had promised her that she wouldn’t be able to walk, that she would stink of him and would have a hard time hiding it from her friends. 

He could see his come dripping down her legs, expecting her to wipe it away, expecting her to throw a hateful glare at him as she had the last time. But instead, it was if she hadn’t even noticed it, noticed him, and it bugged him. So he climbed across the bed, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

She tensed at his touch, at the two fingers that slid up the inside of her thigh. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Theo’s teeth caught her earlobe as he trailed his fingers through the line of his come, rubbing it back into her core. She leaned back into him, moaning. “Does that feel good, Y/N? Having my come in you? Taste it, taste my come and yours together.”

Y/N took his two fingers into her mouth, and Theo almost lost his nerve. Before he showed any sign of weakness, he removed his fingers, letting Y/N speak. “Tastes so good. I love your come, Theo. I want it all over me.”

Theo smirked. “Well, that can be arranged.”

Anal/Ass-Play

Y/N was on all fours, waiting eagerly for whatever Theo was going to do. She moaned as he spread her ass cheeks, muttering to her about all the plans he had for her. She whined when, without warning, he thrust her finger into her asshole, curling it inside of her. “God, this is tight, Y/N. I think we might have to loosen this up a little.”

He replaced his finger with his tongue, swirling it around. Y/N could feel the wetness from her core growing, knowing that it would have to wait. Theo would fuck her somewhere else first, and she looked forward to it. She pressed her ass against his face as Theo continued to eat at her hole, his mouth enveloping over it. She felt desperate for him, for this something new, to arrive, and let out a squeal as Theo drew his face back from her. 

“You ready for this baby?” He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other positioning his cock at the entrance of her ass. The tip brushed her ever so slightly, and Y/N let out a breathy yes. 

Her eyes watered when Theo entered her. He was so big, and she so tight. But as Theo stretched her out, she found herself finding the pleasure beyond the pain, and it wasn’t long before she was screaming in delight. 

“I’m going to come Y/N, I’m going to come in your ass.” Gone was Theo’s tenderness, his concern. His animalistic desire was only present and Y/N couldn’t contain her glee when she felt his release in her. When it was over, Theo rested his head against the small of her back, pressing a kiss against a tender ass cheek. 

Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-Fucking

Y/N was so peaceful when she slept, Theo decided. But he was bored, and he wanted her awake. It was only natural then, that he lay on his side, head at her legs. He move them apart gently, revealing her bare core to him. She shifted slightly as he licked up the centre of her folds, and he smirked against her when she moaned. 

She was waking up, slowly, and in the best possible way. Theo set to work, properly this time. 

He lapped at her core, taking her clit into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement, but didn’t acknowledge Y/N yet. He would do so with arrogance when she came, he would do so - oh. 

Y/N was certainly awake. Theo knew that much with his cock in her mouth. With each bob of her head as she took him whole, Theo pushed his tongue in and out of her core, her wetness making his erection grow. 

He could feel himself on the edge of release, could feel that Y/N was there too. The peaceful morning atmosphere was soon shattered by the orgasmic cries of the two, each with their lips coated in the essence of the other. Theo lifted his head, looked at Y/N with her head still by his cock. She kissed the tip of it. “Good morning.”

Thigh-Riding

The feel of Theo’s jeans beneath her core was too much for Y/N. He had turned down sex, claiming that he was too busy, so she had taken things into her own hands, not giving him the chance to complain when she straddled his leg, naked, in the hope that he would fuck her. 

Instead, he had told her to get herself off, so she chose to do exactly that. 

As she moved against him, she could see the outline of Theo’s erection against the material. But he was still choosing to ignore her, pretending as if she wasn’t even there. So she moaned louder as she rode his thigh, moving faster, hand accidentally brushing his cock. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Theo’s hands flew to his jeans, and Y/N smirked as he unbuttoned them and pulled his cock out. She got the hint, moving from his thigh, denim coated in her essence and sunk onto him. 

Now this, this was what she wanted. And as Theo fucked her, she knew it was worth the wait. 

And Finally...

Theo’s lips were at Y/N’s cheek, his hand on her neck. They were both on their knees, and Y/N wrapped her hand around to tangle in Theo’s hair as he thrust into her. Neither could speak, all dirty talk having fled from their minds. 

It had been a long time since they had been together like this, Theo having come back from the dead only recently. It had taken a matter of moments to rid each other of clothing, to tumble back into bed, each of their movements meaning the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Y/N had forgotten what it felt like to be with Theo, to have his cock buried inside her, stretching her out, making her feel a release unlike any other. She moaned as he thrust into her from behind, his grip on her neck tightening ever so slightly. Theo regained his breath just so to talk to her, his lips against her cheek. “Does that feel good, princess? I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“So good, don’t ever leave me again.” 

Theo’s cock tensed inside of her, and Y/N joined him as the two reached their satisfaction. 

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing so. I love you, Y/N.”

Hunting Season Masterlist

Masterlist

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm.   Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures.  Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her.  He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered.  They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape. 

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic.  Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him.  In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate.  “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”.  If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought.  That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this.   He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents.  He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian.  He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions.  Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way.  So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings.  He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings.  She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him.  Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under.  He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside.  He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.  

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think.  “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”. 

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head.  “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment.  It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first.  Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.  

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room.  Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.  

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look.  As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff.  Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously.  Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him.  Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap.  Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye.  Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.  Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.  He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge.  There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar.  Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside.  He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg.  With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other. 

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him.  He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket.  “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee. 

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him.  Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power.  It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse.  There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured.  She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights.  She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now.  She was getting increasingly antsy,  Jason was probably worried sick about her.  

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.”  Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there.  “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches.  It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room. 

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?” 

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder.  The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet. 

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side.  More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”.  She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse.  “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining.  She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one.  She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly.  Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic.  Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm.  She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout.  A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette.  Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her.  He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug,  Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck.   He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head.  “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason:  I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason:  I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

[seijorhi]

Split

Ok so we’re a little over a week late but the final spooktober fic is finally here!! Jekyll and Hyde Twins was one hell of a prompt to write, but you guys really wanted it so... I hope y'all like it!! 🔪👀

But on another note, thank you guys for sending in suggestions and voting, it was actually super fun!

Atsumu Miya x female reader & Osamu Miya x female reader 

TW extremely dubious consent, blood, knife play, minor character death, implied abuse, smut, nsfw

“Some girl stopped by the shop today.”

The statement itself is fairly innocuous, there’s no reason for it to make the skin on the back of your neck prickle, your heart skip a beat. But maybe it’s not so much the words themselves, but the one who’s saying them.

Or the familiar, glinting kitchen knife he’s absentmindedly toying with, the sharp tip tracing delicately over the bare skin of your thigh. 

Atsumu smirks as you try in vain to fight back a shiver. It’s barely touching you, certainly not with enough pressure to actually slice through the skin - wickedly sharp edge or not - but he could. He has before; a name carved artfully into your hip, another on your inner thigh. Proof, you suppose, that no matter where you go or how far you run, you’ll always belong to him. 

(Sometimes you wonder if it’s not just for your sake that he marks you, but for Osamu’s as well.)

Today, he seems content just to tease, watching in amusement as goosebumps prickle in the wake of his blade. You’re always so responsive, it’s one of the things he loves so much about you - or so he tells you. 

You know better than to play dumb, but silence can be equally as damning, so you hum in quiet acknowledgement, shifting uneasily beneath him as you wait for him to continue. Atsumu’s never been the type for idle chit chat. He wouldn’t care that some random woman visited Onigiri Miya (it was a restaurant, after all), and he certainly wouldn’t have bothered stomping down here to tell you about it unless it was somehow relevant.

The fact that he’s showed up at all means that it can’t be anything good. 

He eyes you for a long moment, drinking in the fear you still haven’t quite managed to learn to hide from him. But there’s a hardness there, lying behind the smirk. A glint of something dark and angry, the sign of a beast wild and vicious, beating at the bars that hold it at bay. That, more than the knife in his hands, is the reason that you’re afraid. 

“An old friend of yours, Misako or somethin’. Had a lotta questions ‘bout you, kept bugging Samu until he kicked her ass out when the rush came through.”

Misako. There’s a burning ache in your chest at the sound of your old friend’s name, you miss her so much, but-

“Y’know the cops gave up on ya a while ago, babe. Don’t know why the bitch is still sniffin’ around,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head.  

She was the first person you rang when you found out you got the position at Onigiri Miya, giddy from excitement about finally landing a job near your brand spankin’ new apartment. And when you realised the burgeoning crush you were developing on your handsome boss, she was the one you gushed to, the two of you giggling into the phone like you were nothing but teenagers back in school. She’s your person, your best friend, the one you could turn to for anything (like ‘come help me hide a dead body’ anything).

The police could write you off as a cold case, shove your missing persons file in the back of some cabinet to gather dust while they moved onto somebody they could actually help, but Misako never would.

And by the vicious glint in Atsumu’s eye, that was something that should make you very, very afraid. “But S-Samu got rid of her right? She doesn’t know anythi-”

The knife digs in, cutting you off with a sharp hiss. The both of you watch as a thin line of blood beads to the surface, and Atsumu grins.

“Maybe yer right,” he muses. “But ya shoulda heard the way she kept goin’ on and on about it. She seems real worried about ya, babe. Kinda made me a little mad, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The silence between the two of you is deafening. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart’s thumping erratically in your chest, if he can sense the tightness in your throat as you force yourself to swallow your panic down before it can sweep you away entirely. He’s toying with you, you know he is - like a cat batting around a half dead mouse it has no intention of eating.

“Atsumu…” it’s little more than a whisper, hoarse and desperate, but it makes his grin widen nonetheless.

The knife in his hand stills, and carelessly he tosses down on the mattress beside you, hand moving to grip at your thigh. His thumb sweeps across the shallow cut, smearing your blood over his finger before he brings it to his parted lips, pink tongue darting out to lick at the bloodstained digit. 

He hums, eyes falling closed for a split second as something akin to contentment graces his face. He looks beautiful like that, smiling dreamily, even under the jarring fluorescent basement light. You wonder sometimes how you could have been so blind to the monster lurking beneath his skin, but when looks like that, when he smiles - you remember the way your heart sped up, your cheeks warming as butterflies fitted about your stomach the first time you’d met him. He’s beautiful, unfairly so, but that beauty is nothing but a lure, and you were the one dumb enough to go chasing after it.

The bloody knife lying forgotten on the bed between you two draws your attention, daring you to reach out and take it. Atsumu’s momentarily distracted, you could try it. You might even be quick enough to snatch it away from him before he realises what you’re doing and tries to fight you for it. He’d win, you know he would. He’s strong, but you could be fast… 

Your hand twitches restlessly, breath catching in your throat-

Atsumu isn’t that careless, and it’s a game you’ve played before.

(Played before and lost.)

The moment passes, and those dark, soulless eyes flicker open. “I’ve still got yer phone upstairs. Why don’t I put yer friend’s mind at ease, let her know we’re takin’ such good care of you, hm?”

You don’t say a word, staring at him in mute horror.

“Better yet, I could go tell her in person. Whad’ya think, sweetheart?” His hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a mockery of tender affection. “I just hate the thought of somebody else wastin’ so much energy worrying about my pretty girl.”

You think of Misako, the first time you met her and the easy, careless way she gave her love to anybody who took more than a moment to look past the tough exterior she hid herself behind. She’s sweet and good and the thought of her alone in a room with a monster like Atsumu makes your blood run cold.

“Please, Tsumu, don’t-”

He grabs at your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until the pain of it forces you silent with a whimper.

“Convince me,” he purrs.

“W-what?”

“If you don’t want me to go find that fuckin’ nosy bitch and carve ‘er up like a Halloween pumpkin…” his smirk widens and your stomach plummets, “convince me not to.”

Your eyes dart down to Atsumu’s knife. 

You know better.

You’ve tried this before.

(It doesn’t end well for you.)

But in your blind panic, none of that matters. You just act on instinct, and grab-

Fingers snatch at your wrist the moment your hand wraps around the handle, squeezing mercilessly until it feels like the fragile bones in your wrist are going to break and you let go, the knife clattering back onto the bed.

Atsumu laughs - laughs - and picks it back up, flipping and catching the blade with practiced ease, “Not what I had in mind, baby, but hey, if you wanna play like that…” he trails off with that lazy, half cocked smirk that makes your blood boil.

“I hope you choke and die, you sadistic fucking bastard!”

The words slip out before you can hope to stop them, and your breath catches in a horrified gasp as his eyes widen. It’s been a long time since you lashed out, even longer still since you lashed out with Atsumu. 

But instead of the swift backhanded slap you brace yourself for, he beams at you with wicked delight. 

It’s infinitely worse.

“Now there’s that lovely spark I’ve been missin’!” 

He seizes you by the back of your neck before you have a chance to backpedal, dragging you into a kiss. As his tongue invades your mouth, and the knife in his other hand drags a slow trail up between your breasts to come to a rest on the delicate skin of your throat, you wonder if the lingering coppery tang you can taste on him is really there, or if it’s all in your head. 

“Now, why don’t you suck on my cock instead, and we’ll see how generous I’m feelin’ when yer done?”

He doesn’t give you so much as a beat to respond, dragging you both to the edge of the bed and tossing you carelessly to the ground. It only takes him a moment to cast aside the knife to unbuckle his jeans and childishly kick them off, his boxers following a moment later. He grabs his cock, half hard, pre-cum beading at the flushed tip, and gives it a few cursory strokes, staring through lidded, hungry eyes.

The smirk written across his face reminds you all too much of the cat that got the canary, but as long fingers reach for your hair, stroking through the unruly locks for half a beat before tightening, yanking your head forward, you don’t fight him.

Not out of any fear for your life - no, in some sick, twisted way you know that he won’t hurt you too badly, would never go so far as to kill you - but it’s not your life that hangs in the balance. It’s not for your own sake that you open your mouth and let your tongue flick out, swirling around the weeping cock head, scooting forward to press a kiss to the tip. Diligently, you lap up the salty pre-cum - fighting back a shudder when he groans appreciatively - and swallow it down with a barely concealed grimace before falling back to sit on your thighs, keeping your gaze fixed on your lap.

You’ll do it - whatever he wants. Suck his cock, settle yourself down on his lap and ride him while playing with your tits, let him paint your face with his cum - whatever crude, degrading, awful things he asks, you’ll do if it means he won’t touch your friend. 

But you won’t pretend to enjoy it.

Far from being put out by your less than enthusiastic reception, Atsumu laughs again. “Aw, well look who’s decided to play nice after all,” he coos, his hand still fisting at your hair. “It’s cute, but I think I wanna see you choke on it, sweetheart.”

You barely have time to brace yourself on his thighs before he’s dragging your face toward his crotch once more. Atsumu is merciless as he forces you to swallow him down. He’s big, not just in length, but thick too. Your jaw aches from the stretch, and when he rams the back of your throat you gag, the muscles of your throat unwittingly tightening around his length.

Atsumu swears, his grip tightening painfully.

Tears burn in the corners of your eyes and you force yourself not to panic, to breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re choking around his cock, your nose being forced against his navel as he bottoms out with a snarl and starts to fuck your face in earnest.

He snaps at you between breathless moans to play with his balls, and with trembling hands you comply. You try your best to end this quickly, dragging your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks and trying to relax your throat to take him better - but it’s easier said than done. The lewd, slick sounds of you gagging with every eager thrust echo out crudely in the basement around you, broken only by Atsumu’s moans, and the backhanded praise he showers you in.

“Fuck baby, look at you, swallowin’ it down like a good little whore. S’like you were made for this, suckin’ my cock. My pretty cock slut, so fuckin’ perfect for me, aren’tcha?”

Humiliation burns through you, but you force it down, will yourself not to break as his fingers card through your hair.

“You walkin’ through Samu’s door was the best goddamn thing that ever happened to us, ya know that, right?”

He says it with a breathless laugh, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he truly believes it. Atsumu’s the monster that hides beneath the surface, the violent beast lurking patiently behind the easy charm and lazy smirk that drew you in - but he wants as his other half does.

His impulses, his desires - they’re a reflection. A magnification, you suppose. 

You wouldn’t be here otherwise, you wouldn’t still be alive.

Atsumu’s hips stutter, and a heady groan slips from between clenched teeth. He’s close, rutting into your warm, wet mouth with renewed vigour. 

It’s all you can do to clutch at his thighs as he fucks you desperately, chasing his high. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch, his abs tightening as he grips you tightly by your hair and forces your head forwards, burying your face in his dark pubes and anchoring you in place.

He thrusts one final time, snarling as he gazes down at your wide, tear filled eyes and shoots his warm, thick load right down your throat.

You choke and splutter, falling to the floor the moment he releases you, heaving in desperate gasps of air as fresh tears mix with the drool and leftover cum coating your chin. It must make for a pathetic sight, but Atsumu just chuckles, dropping back onto his elbows with a grin and beckoning you forward with a single crooked finger.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You didn’t think we were done just yet, did ya?”

–

Your body aches, littered with bruises, blood, bite marks and cum - all remnants of Atsumu’s own brand of devotion - by the time he finally rolls off of you and collapses onto the mattress with a contented sigh.

For a moment neither of you move, your harsh pants as you try to catch your breath the only sound in the basement. The air’s thick with the scent of sex and sweat, of him (he smells like summer - citrus and the ocean while Osamu’s more spice and the woods, smoke and honey melding into one rich, intoxicating scent) choking you with every ragged inhale. He reaches for you, tugging you closer and draping a muscular arm across your waist - and you let him. You’re exhausted, aching and while you’ll do whatever you can to hide it from him, a hair's breadth away from shattering like fine china. 

 Atsumu whistles lowly, thumbing at the scar on your hip and pressing a surprisingly affectionate kiss against your hair. “God damn, babe. I really gotta threaten your friends more often if yer gonna let me fuck ya like that just to try an’ keep me distracted!”

You stiffen, blood running cold. “W-what?”

He chuckles, squeezing your middle once more, “Didn’t even need the knife to get’cha to play along. You must really care about savin’ that irritating little bitch.” 

Your pulse quickens, he has to be able to feel it with his bare chest pressed up against your back. His lips hover your ear, his warm breath fanning across your face, “But if I’m bein’ real honest with ya, darlin’, it does kinda piss me off. Can’t help but feel a little… jealous, I ‘spose. Yer still my girl, aint’cha?” he spits. “It’s just not right for you to be thinkin’ so much about somebody else when yer here with me.”

Fear wrenches at your heart, “No, please!” You’re scrambling to grab at the arm that’s already withdrawing as Atsumu pushes himself back up. “Don’t, you can’t-”

He silences you with a kiss, squeezing your jaw and patting your cheek twice when he draws back. Amusement, cruel and vindictive, dances in those pitiless depths as he reaches around you to grab his abandoned blade, waving it tauntingly in front of your face. “Can’t forget this now, can we?”

“No, I’ll do anything! Atsumu please!” 

You’ll beg on your hands and fucking knees if you have to. You can’t let him hurt her.

You can’t.

And for a single beat, he stares at you, and you swear you see a flash of something other flicker across his face.

You blink and it’s gone, and even that cheap glee is stripped bare, leaving nothing but resentment, cold and burning as he appraises you. His fingers twitch, as if he’s tempted to reach for you, to tuck the stray lock of hair that’s fallen across your face back behind your ear or brush away the silvery tear tracks that mar your soft cheeks.

But he doesn’t. He only sighs. “Don’tcha see, baby? That’s the problem.”

He doesn’t say another word as he moves off the bed, bending over to pick up his discarded jeans and tee as he passes. It takes a second for his words - the realisation - to kick in, but when they do it feels like you’ve been doused in ice water, shocking every cell in your body. You leap after him, uncaring of your own nakedness, forgetting about the shackle that keeps you from running too far.

You slip when it pulls taut, bare knees scraping against the concrete floors as you scramble to right yourself. He doesn’t stop as you beg and plead through hoarse sobs.

You can’t let him hurt her, you can’t let him hurt her, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t!

The chain has no more give and he’s already at halfway up the basement steps.

“Osamu! Osamu please!!” You shriek, tugging frantically at the thick lock wrapped around your ankle. “You promised! OSAMU!!”

He pauses at the top of the stairs, his shoulders straightening as he glances back and shrugs. “Sorry, darlin’. Samu ain’t the one drivin’ tonight.”

The heavy door slams shut behind him, your desperate screams falling silent in his wake.

–

He’s the one who comes back to you hours later, his dark clothes filthy and torn, the dried blood smeared across his jaw contrasting sharply with his pale, unblemished skin. Impassive grey eyes give nothing away as he slowly makes his way down the basement steps towards you. 

Frozen, your heart pounding in your throat, you can’t seem to make a sound as he unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off, tossing it over the bannister without so much as breaking eye contact. His arms, toned and lean, are covered in claw like scratches, his neck too and there’s blood under his fingernails, splattered across his ripped tee. 

You try not to think about what that means. 

Atsumu’s a killer, you know that, but that doesn’t necessarily-

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. “I tried ta keep him in check…”

The rest of his sentence fades into white noise.

He killed Misako.

He killed her.

Phantom claws tighten around your chest, squeezing, and for a moment it feels like you can’t breathe, it’s just pain. Raw, jagged, agony that tears and bites and consumes every ounce of you - and you don’t even realise that you’re sobbing, wailing, until Osamu’s kneeling down on the bed beside you, sweeping you up into his arms.

Apologies flow from his lips, washing over you like sea-foam on the shore. He kisses you fervently - your lips, your cheeks, your hair, again and again murmuring excuses, justifications, cradling your trembling form against him. 

He likes to pretend that he’s blameless in all of this. That Atsumu’s the monster here and he’s the good one, the loving partner who only wants to keep you safe and tucked away from the rest of the world. And if that means chaining you to a bed in the basement of his house and treating you like a glorified fuck toy - so be it. 

It’s easy for him to forget that Atsumu might be a beast unto himself, but Samu’s the one who lets him out in the first place

Osamu wanted you, so Atsumu took you. 

Samu felt threatened, so he let Tsumu take care of the problem. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that Osamu isn’t nearly as powerless over his counterpart as he’d like for you to believe. After all, he’s the one who ends up reaping the rewards when Atsumu comes out to play.

[kaminobiwan]

cannonball

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Throwing all caution out the window, Obi-Wan dives headfirst into a long awaited confession. At least, he tries to. The universe seems to leave an obstacle for him at every turn, but Obi-Wan is nothing if not persistent.

a/n: Oh my goodness, this has got to be my proudest piece. It was one of the victims of the incident™ and I had to rewrite the whole thing from scratch, but I actually think the final version came out better than the original! The title is inspired from the summary of my previous fic Indulgence, but this one is actually the cornerstone of all of my jedi!reader x Obi-Wan fics: every one of those has stemmed from this storyline idea that has been living in my head for so long. Suffice it to say this is THE fic that I have wanted to write from the beginning — my pièce de résistance, if you will.

I hope you enjoy :-) p.s. here's my taglist form

In all the years he’s known you, Obi-Wan swears he only ever started to lie to you during the Clone Wars.

In his defense, he’d been lying to himself, too. Forcibly crushing down his much-deeper-than-platonic favor for you in the hopes that it’d disappear, forgotten in his darkest recesses, was exhausting in more ways than one. One’s mind can only be dishonest with the heart for so long.

But after more than a year and a half into the fighting, he’d felt too many times the choking fear that he’d never see you again — be it because of his death or yours.

So he’d given up in repressing his emotions, and let himself feel. In the precious minutes of reprieve amidst the horrors of combat, sometimes the only thing that could console his jaded and war-torn soul was the memory of you.

He wonders how he managed to continue for as long as he did before allowing himself to consciously love — it was well into the conflict when he came to terms with it. If he closes his eyes, he can easily remember the exact moment.

Geonosis. His return to the forsaken planet.

The chaos of it all had been staggering. He’d barely been able to hear Cody’s warning before he was shot out of the sky, and the crash that claimed the lives of nearly everyone in the transport had been just the beginning of the hellscape he’d endured.

There was an instant where he’d been sure he was going to die on the field, seconds before the remainder of his battalion was about to be overrun.

He remembers the gunfire surrounding him, piercing the falling bodies of his men as he laid helpless and injured. Cody’s shouting amidst the mayhem. The stabbing pain of his ribs that had blackened the edges of his vision. The dirt that had caked his face and armor. The sheer amount of it had been maddening.

And yet, as the bugs had closed in around him and he’d forced himself to his feet to meet his imminent end, the only thing that had run through his mind was...you.

Your name, your face. The dissatisfaction at the fact that the last time he’d seen it, it’d been distorted, static and blue from the holo you’d shared with Master Unduli. The way you’d hidden a smile as she interrupted his competitive jeering with Anakin ahead of the battle.

At least he’d made you laugh, he’d thought, and with that, he’d ignited his lightsaber.

And then the reinforcements had come. And he’d been left to sink back down on shaking knees with the image of you burning in his brain until the concerned presence of Ahsoka materialized at his side.

He hadn’t had any time to process the stunning realization that he was in love with you. He’d scarcely had a second to gather himself before he was already spouting a revised attack plan to take the droid factory, reverting to autopilot the way he always did when he assumed his identity as a war general.

But the universe had seemed intent on not letting him escape it, regardless. Just days later, he’d saved your life — you’d arrived at Point Rain with Luminara only to be taken by the Geonosian queen to be turned into a mindless, shivering zombie.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know.” You’d chirped, while tapping his nose teasingly.

“What? The stunt with the worms? You know I wouldn’t have actually let it go up your nose.”

“No, for disobeying an order to fall back and leave us behind.”

His heart had clenched at your words. Never in a million years would he abandon you if he thought there was the smallest chance of saving you. He knew that, finally.

But the fear of losing the only life he’d ever known outweighed the fear of losing you, and he’d settled with yearning for you from afar. It would be enough, he’d convinced himself. He refused to burden you with the knowledge that he’d been pining helplessly for you for Force knows how long, and ruin the careers in the Order you’d both worked so hard to construct.

That was, until now.

Until he’d seen Satine Kryze again, after decades apart, and she’d declared her surviving affection for him from all those years ago, Anakin witnessing the whole thing. After he’d seen the weight of her unspoken truth upon her shoulders. And although he regretted that he couldn’t grant her the relief from her wanting, he’d resolved that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days the same way — slowly being crushed by his own supression. Even if his feelings were unrequited.

So he’d decided that he’d tell you, Jedi Code be damned. He wouldn’t hold it in any longer.

As the Coronet docked on the landing pad where the Chancellor was waiting, he’d been jittery with anticipation. That, and disoriented from the events that had transpired on the way there. He’d blubbered uncharacteristically when Satine had caressed his face in farewell, Anakin watching delightedly at his back. Then, as he’d turned to find a speeder to make his way to you in the Temple, the universe had yet again toyed with him — you were there, appearing on the platform out of nowhere like a summoned spirit, but not making your way towards him.

No, you were walking straight towards Satine.

You didn’t seem to notice him or Anakin behind you, welcoming the Duchess with practiced cordiality and leading her to the airbus where the other Senators were boarding, glaringly obvious that you’d been assigned on escort duty. Obi-Wan held back a groan. Of all the Jedi.

Anakin had practically collapsed in hilarity, a hand heavy on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Master,” he crowed. “I finally get that one.”

———

You’re perched high up on a viewing balcony of the Senate Chamber when he finds you, a little before Satine is set to address the Republic.

“You’re certainly off your game today,” you exhale an amused laugh as he skids to a stop, attempting to compose his appearance as he approaches you. “Anakin told me all about what happened on the Coronet en route to Coruscant.”

His blasted Padawan. Obi-Wan could strangle him.

“I didn’t teach him to gossip,” he grumbles, coming to stand beside you. He'd run the whole way here to catch you, but his rapid heartbeat isn’t from physical exertion. You’re as tranquil as ever, though, and your presence relaxes him despite.

You give a snort. “Maybe not intentionally. He definitely learned how to operate outside the lines of the Code by watching you.” He knows you’re poking fun at him, but his breath catches at the mention of the doctrine that dictates you both.

But he’s set on telling you. Today.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something similar.”

You turn to the Chancellor’s podium as his voice reverberates through the hall, but Obi-Wan’s hearing is fixed on you. “Of course, Obi, but it’ll have to wait until later. I think your friend is about to speak.”

He opens his mouth to reply, to bring your attention back to him, but you’re focused on the proceedings. He doesn’t like the jovial way you say friend, as if you’re almost happy about it, but he forces his gaze to follow yours as Satine begins her address.

Which, of course, goes terribly wrong. Because nothing seems to want to work out today.

Even your usually optimistic features are set with a grim expression as a testimonial from Satine’s own Deputy Minister slights her leadership, and the Senate turns against her. As her repulsorpod retreats from the center of the chamber, you cast concerned eyes towards him.

“Go,” you urge him, and he’s frozen between staying or leaving. “She needs you. I’ll buy you some time with the security detail.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to depart from your side, words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he knows you’re right. He nods at you gratefully before chasing after Satine.

———

He tries again in the evening, while you’re between shifts of guarding the Duchess’ guest quarters.

“She seems...interesting,” you nod to the Mandalorian guard that passes by to take your post, speaking low enough that your conversation is relatively private. “She certainly had much to say about you.”

Obi-Wan wanted to scream. It seems everyone had been able to get you alone except for him. “I told you about that year on Mandalore after I came back,” he protests, and you shoot him a pitiful wink.

“Not the way she described it.”

Before he can demand just what Satine had let on, the sound of rapid footfalls draws both of your attention to the guard you’d greeted earlier. “Master Jedi! The Duchess is gone. We don’t know for how long.”

You curse lightly and rush down the hall to follow the Mandalorian, and Obi-Wan is about to do the same when his comm buzzes on his wrist.

He sighs in frustration. He knows exactly who it is.

———

After he’d relayed the untampered evidence to Padmé in time for the Senate convocation and Satine had been released from custody, Obi-Wan makes his way to your quarters in a determined stride. The past couple days were nothing short of a wild Bantha ride from start to finish, and he was tired of tiptoeing around you.

As he raises a shaking hand to knock outside your room, he stalls in a moment of fleeting hesitation. The impending metamorphose of your relationship nags at his brain, and he pauses. What he’s about to do will indelibly transform the dynamic between you, for better or for worse. It dawns on him that there won’t be any going back from this.

He hears your voice from a distant memory of late nights in the Temple gardens, basking in the light of the stars. Of course everything will change. Nothing can stop that.

So be it.

He stands as tall as he can manage, and knocks resolutely.

You open the door looking ready for bed, clad in a billowing camisole, face dewy from the refresher and hair still damp. He smiles at you as you open it wider. “Hello, Obi.”

He shuffles inside, meekly nodding in apology of his interruption. “I thought I’d come see you.”

Like routine, you’re already heating up a pot of water for him as you search for his favorite tea in your cupboard. Ever so thoughtful. His heart flutters beneath his robes. “I’m glad to see you found the Duchess,” you chime lightheartedly, “I had a hunch when you disappeared earlier.”

His hand finds the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t make you look too bad, being on protection and all.”

You shake your head dismissively. “I was just glad to hear she was safe. You helped save her people from Republic occupation.”

Altruistic honesty radiates off of you, and his chest drops, in a good way. You care, and it’s written all over your actions.

You’re the best person he knows. Without question.

For a split second, Obi-Wan wonders if he even deserves you. But he pushes the thought in the back of his mind for later, hell-bent on not letting anything get in the way of what he wants to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

You face him fully, abandoning the tea as you take in the seriousness of his posture. He sucks in a stunted breath.

“It’s about —”

“I know.”

He startles, momentum lost as you interrupt him suddenly. Your gaze is penetrating. “What?” He asks dumbly.

“It’s about Satine, isn’t it?” Your bare arm comes up across your body to hold the other, and Obi-Wan finds himself staring at the way your too-long pants brush the floor as you sway to one side. Your sleeping shirt brushes the middle of your thighs, and he realizes how utterly small you seem in the moment. “You feel the same way about her that you used to.”

His eyes snap up to yours at your words, mind reeling. It takes him an eternity to force out a single word.

“...No.”

You tilt your head confusedly, and Obi-Wan wants to pinch himself to test if this is some sort of stress-induced hallucination. “No? You do know she’s positively infatuated with you, don’t you?”

“No, I —” he shuts his eyes desperately. “I mean, yes, I know, but I don’t —” he breaks off abruptly, opening his eyes at you with newfound willpower. Blast it.

Obi-Wan crosses the room in three steps, reaching his hands out to cradle you delicately as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

He hears your breath stutter, shock just about vibrating off of you, but in the next second your eyelashes graze his cheeks as you close your eyes and lean into him. His heart pounds in crazed gratification, and Obi-Wan feels downright dizzy from the sensation. He’s going to faint, he’s going to die right here in your arms —

Your hands find the top of his chestplate, fingers curling against it, but after a beat of his body singing with joy, he feels you apply the smallest pressure on his armor. You detach your lips from his slowly, and he blinks dazedly at you when you pull away. Disbelief paints your frame.

“Obi, what —”

“I love you,” he says quickly, hands still on either side of your face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. For so long.” One of your hands reaches up to clasp his own against your cheek. “I know that this goes against everything we’ve ever been taught, and you must be confused. I’m sorry.” He breaks off for a second, eyebrows creasing, because he’s not sorry. He could never be sorry for what he’s just done, not with the feeling of your lips still rippling in tingles through his brain. “But I had to tell you. I just...couldn’t go on without you knowing.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you flounder in his confession, and he studies you with more intensity than he’s felt in ages. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything about you, offhandedly concentrating to memorize every tiny detail. He’ll relive that kiss a thousand times over for the rest of his life if it’s the last one he’ll get.

“I — I don’t know what to say,” you manage to let out, and he presses his forehead to yours before releasing you. Say you love me, his heart cries. But Obi-Wan pushes the sentiment away.

“It’s alright,” he promises gently. You stare at him as he squeezes the hand that’s still holding his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Obi-Wan, I —”

Whatever you’re about to say is cut off by a loud knock from outside, and the way you jerk back from him pricks at his emotions. You quickly pad to the door, opening it a crack as he attempts to conceal himself from your unexpected visitor.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Master,” Anakin’s voice fills the air, and Obi-Wan shrinks further into the shadows. “I’m just checking in before I leave for Vanquor. I wanted to make sure you’re still available to train Ahsoka while I’m gone?”

It takes you a little to formulate a response, your eyes still wide. “Yes — of course, Anakin, always.” You attempt to shut the door, but Anakin speaks up before you can.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you for some advice as well, if you don’t mind.”

You can’t look at Obi-Wan without giving him away, so he sends a subtle wave of reassurance your way, hoping you pick up on it.

The tension releases from your shoulders, and you nod at his old student. “I’d be happy to. Give me a bit to get ready,” you gesture behind you, “and I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Anakin must nod in return, because you close the door without another word. You reach up to grab your outer robes from where they’re hung on the wall, and turn to him with a tormented expression.

Go, it’s his turn to coax you as he mouths the word silently. It’s alright.

Your eyes are shining with emotion that he can’t quite read in the dim light, but eventually you slip on your cloak and shoes and open the door once more. With one last lingering glimpse at him in the corner, you disappear into the hall where Anakin is waiting.

As he feels your presence dwindling away, he sends a final thought into the vacant room, more to himself and the aching emptiness of the Force than to you.

I love you.

[darkestdesired]

The wild child is calling.

Request: I saw you did Child!reader and I was wondering if you could do Twilight X Child!Reader? Maybe she's a wolf/vampire hybrid and she finds herself on the line that divides wolves and vampires and everyone comes to see who's breaking the rules and they come across a little girl and they're like "what?" Maybe the volturi try coming for her but the wolves and vamps protect her. And maybe one of the wolves imprints on her and becomes a father figure? Thanks love

@ineedmorefanfics

An:ok so i am so in love with this request,just imagining the utter confusion that they'd feel.Also i had this set before the twilight saga,just to change it up a bit.

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The moon above me was the only sign of what time it was,my tiny feet were cold and aching as i walked along a creek.

The water helped to wash some of the mud away,Hugging my tattered toy bunny close i smiled at the little lightning bugs i saw floating around.My momma always told me that if you made a wish on a lightening bug that it would come true,But i wished upon every lightening bug i came across and none of my wishes had come true yet.

But perhaps that was about to change.

The sound of crunching leaves alerted me of my sudden company,”It’s just a child Carlisle,who would leave a kid alone all the way out here?” A male voice with a southern accent asked.

"Sweetheart what are you doing down there? It's dangerous!" A calming female voice,turning to the other side i saw a group of golden eyes watching me,They were like mommy.

The brunette with a motherly aura walked towards the edge,"Where are your parents honey?" I buried my face in my bunny,"I-I don't know.." Esme felt a pang of protectiveness when she heard me sniffle. Rosalie sent her a look,"Esme,she doesn't have a heartbeat." Realization struck her,Rosalie was right,and now that she really thought about it,i had the strange scent of a wolf.

Esme slowly left her families side and knelt down on the edge,"It's okay sweetheart,you're safe now."

Before she could reach her hand down there was a growling sound coming from the other side of the creek.

Carlisle stepped forward,"It's alright sam we have this handled." Sam glared at the cullens,He remained in his human form while Paul stood behind him as a wolf."We smelled something strange and came to investigate,is this child another one of your hybrids?" He growled. The doctor shook his head,"No,we're just as confused as you are,but we can take care of her." Sam rubbed his eyes and crossed his arms in annoyance,the pack could never catch a break.

"You don't know what she's capable of!I won't let you endanger everyone because you guys think you can save everyone!"

As the two groups argued over what to do with me i felt the sudden need to look over at the shifted wolf,immediately making eye contact with the brown angry looking one.

It was as if time stopped,it was only me and the giant wolf staring at each other in awe.

The cullens hissed as the brown wolf walked closer to the edge and closer to my curious form,Warmth and wonder swarming through his eyes. Very opposite to the usual anger and disdain directed to the cold ones. “It’s okay,paul imprinted on the child,he won’t hurt her.” Edward said trying to calm his family’s nerves.

It was a touching moment as Paul hopped down into the water and slowly approached me,reaching up my tiny (s/c) hand he lowered his head and gently nudged his snout into it.

Alice smiled at us before suddenly growing stiff,Edwards eyes widened as Jasper ran to his mates side,”Alice what’s wrong,what do you see?” She was shaking and hawking in obvious fear.”The Volturi,their coming for... her.”

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“What do we do?! Demetri has already gotten her scent by now!” Rosalie growled,trying to contain her anger in front of the shaken up child currently burrowed in Paul’s lap.

“We won’t let some Bloodsucker hierarchy hurt her,she’s just a kid!” Sam growled back,not one bit intimidated by the threat of some ancient cold ones. The packs ancestors had dealt with threats like the volturi before,this wouldn’t be the first and probably wouldn’t be the last.

Paul hugged me closer,looking down at me with a protective gleam in his eye,”You’ll be safe now,I may not be your best chance at a normal life kid,but I promise I will protect you.” His heart filled with pride as I stared at him for what felt like a millennium before smiling a toothy grin,”I trust you,wolfy.” He ignored the snickering between Jasper and Emmett.

He’d kick their asses later,right now there were more important things at hand,like protecting this child that now meant more to him than his own life.

¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬Г¬

The Volturi were a bit more terrifying than Paul had expected,he could tell I felt the same,if me holding onto his leg tightly was any indication.

“We have been looking for that thing for a few days now,my friend,I commend you for catching it so easily.” The raven haired king said with a sickening grin.”Where are her parents Aro,how is a child like her even possible.” Carlisle asked following Aro’s sight to the cowering child.

“Her mother was a nomad who had fallen in love with a mutt,they created something which should not exist. Now I ask of you my friend,hand over the creature so we may dispose of it. Before it dooms is all.” Dramatic as always,Carlisle thought.

“No.”

All eyes fell on Paul,he tried his best to hold in his anger but he wanted to tear them apart for just looking in his imprints direction.

“I beg your pardon? No?” Aro asked with an amused tilt of his head. “She is my imprint and I will not allow you to lay your disgusting hands on her.” His glare hardened,daring the vampire to make a move.

“Doesn’t your kind have laws to protect fated pairs?” Sam asked Edward with a smartass grin. “Why yes we do,you wouldn’t want to start a war you can’t win,would you Aro?” Edward smirked,quite enjoying watching Aro squirm.

“This is not over,if she slips up even once we will not hesitate to destroy her and anyone who gets in our way.” Aro hissed before turning and disappearing into the woods,followed by his guards.

Paul grinned down at me in victory,enjoying the sight of me grinning back at him in relief.

“He’ll have to go through an army of people first.”

[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Thank you to @emsylcatac for looking over the first chapter for me!! 💙

[[on AO3]]

***

[one: when I was living for the hope of it all]

The passage of time can be a funny thing.

As Ladybug touched down onto the roof of the apartment that once belonged to one Wang Fu, she thought of how, for every one thing that withstood the hours, another would inevitably change.

There were the facts of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life that even passing years couldn’t seem to touch: akumas, for one, rampant and undeterred in the onslaught to claim what Hawkmoth wanted but could never be allowed to have; just as there was the presence of Chat Noir only one step behind, landing in a crouch at her side with a smile made of sunbeams. The rooftops they haunted to keep Paris safe remained more or less unchanged, as did the weight that never left Ladybug’s tired shoulders, and the deepening cracks in a heart that loved too much and too many. There were designs in need of sewing and stacks of homework to get through and secrets to keep, and only so many hours in the day. 

But when Ladybug looked back on the year that had passed, it felt like everything had changed. That too much had. 

Over the summer, Marinette had turned sixteen. She had a red-spotted box buried in her room that carried more responsibility than she knew what to do with. She was split down the middle and slowly coming apart at the seams.

Ladybug takes a deep breath in through her nose, holding it a moment before letting it go. She’d fix it. She always did.

Behind her, Chat Noir huffs. His clawed fingers are tangled hopelessly in the string of her yoyo, and the look on his face is one of such intense concentration that she almost laughs. Instead, she looks away, nose scrunching.

If there’s one change that’s been slowly driving her to distraction, it’s this: when had Chat Noir gotten so tall? And when had she begun to notice?

“That’s not meant to be a toy, Chat,” she reminds him, though the reprimand is nowhere near stern. 

Undeterred, Chat comes to join her at the edge of the roof, his smile bright. “Look, bug. It’s the Eiffel Tower.”

She looks, and the corner of her mouth twitches into a reluctant grin. He has, indeed, twisted the string into something resembling the tower between his hands. 

“Good job, kitty. Now give it back before you knot it.”

He stretches, the long line of his spine a graceful curve, before depositing the yoyo back into her waiting palm. He scans the horizon, one hand at his brow to block the setting sun. “Did you see the Ladyblog last night? I didn’t know Alya jumped in that close to get that shot.” 

Ladybug sighs. She was the one who’d swung in to snatch her friend out of harm’s way. “She’s going to get hurt one of these days.” 

“I think she might be immortal,” Chat whispers, as though he’s uncovered a secret. Ladybug snorts, and he grins at the sound before continuing, “she’s something, anyway.” 

The way he says it is fond and familiar, not so unlike how Marinette would sound, were she the one talking about Alya. She glances at him, quick and considering, before deciding it best to let that train of thought go. It steps a bit too close into dangerous territory.

“She is something. I guess after nearly being dunked into the Seine in a mummy’s coffin, nothing can really scare her,” Ladybug muses. “I envy her a bit for that.”

She hadn’t meant to let that last thought slip. 

Chat turns to face her. “You envy Alya nearly being drowned in the Seine?” 

A laugh tumbles out of her. She lets her feet swing back and forth and watches them instead of him. “No, silly. The ‘nothing can scare her’ part.” 

There’s a pause where all she can hear is the sounds of the city below and his even breaths. He doesn’t make light of it like maybe he would have, once. It’s only another sure mark of how things have changed: they’ve both seen too much to keep up any pretense of being fearless. 

“What’s scaring you, LB?” 

When she chances a look up at him, the fading light has lent a halo to his golden hair. His smile has softened into something open, endlessly patient. He’d take her word or accept her silence. 

It had never really mattered to her that Chat Noir was beautiful, before. Lately, though, his quicksilver grins had her turning away before he could see the heat coloring her cheeks. The raw, unfiltered sincerity in his gaze set her heart pounding. He was always there, at Ladybug’s side or on Marinette’s terrace, his laugh a song in her ears, his touch a ghost on her skin. 

His friendship meant everything to her. Maybe one day she’d be able to tell him. 

He catches her looking and his expression turns serious, green eyes intent on hers. Ladybug’s quick inhale gets caught somewhere on the way to her lungs, and she remembers he’d asked her a question. 

“Nothing really, kitty.” Too much. Everything. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s something sharp in his eyes as he nods. He knows she’s lying, just as well as he knows he can’t press, not really. His hand goes to the back of his neck and his gaze darts away. “If you’re sure.” 

She tries on a smile. “I am.” 

He stays quiet for a moment, nothing between them but the breeze before he speaks again, his voice sheepish. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I...I don’t want to make you mad.” 

Ladybug bumps her shoulder against his. “You can ask me anything. Well,” she hastily amends, “almost anything.” 

Chat’s smile doesn’t make it to his eyes. He fidgets in place next to her, picking at a crack in the cement. “Okay, hear me out. I’ve been thinking, with Master Fu gone, no one knows us. It’s been a year and we’re nowhere closer to figuring out who Hawkmoth is. I know sharing our identities has always been dangerous, but…” his brow furrows behind his mask. “Isn’t it a little dangerous for no one at all to know?”

Ladybug drops her gaze to the streets below, lips pressed into a taut line. She’d be lying to him if she said the same question hadn’t plagued her for months. She lost hours at night, lying awake and wondering what if. 

Should the worst happen to them, not a single soul would know what had become of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The boy behind Chat Noir’s mask could disappear, and she wouldn’t even know where to look. No one would.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” she admits, her voice low. Chat’s ears perk, and she holds a hand up as if to halt his enthusiasm in its tracks. “I have, but...it’s a lot. I’m not saying no,” she assures him, “Just...not today.” 

Chat picks up her hand and Ladybug jumps, just a little. She watches, silent, as Chat brings her knuckles up to his lips, a faint, careful memory of a kiss, before releasing her fingers.

It’s been months since his casual overtures of affection had all but stopped. She wants to snatch his hand back as it withdraws and hold on, for just a moment more.

“Whenever you’re ready, my lady,” he says. “And if you decide you don’t want me to know your name, I would still be willing to tell you mine.” 

Their eyes catch and hold in the dark. His offer is a tempting one. He’d give everything he had to her, she knows, without expecting anything in return. 

It’s precisely when something is important, that it's important to say it, no matter what.

It hits her then, in a punch to the chest that steals her breath, just how much she’d like to lean in, close the chasm between them, and kiss him. But if there’s one more thing time hasn’t touched, it’s the same fear that snaps at her heels whenever she tries to take a step.

Instead, Ladybug jumps to her feet, yoyo in hand. “I-I’ll think on it, Chaton. There’s pros and cons either way, and it’s a big decision to make, and I—”

He stands up more slowly as she stammers, his smile soft and just a little sad. Her voice dies in her throat. “I know, bug. Just remember you don’t have to do it all alone. I’m here for you, you know?”

She did know. It was the one, unassailable truth of her life—Chat was by her side, ready to lighten her burden whenever he could, whenever she’d let him. 

Ladybug steps forward, catching the slight widening of his eyes as she rises on her toes to slide her arms around his neck. She tucks her nose into the curve of his collarbone, where he smells like sunshine and leather and something like home.

She feels his breath hitch in his chest before he bands his arms around her waist and pulls her in closer still. His heart pounds against hers, a harmony she knows better than most.

Chat turns his cheek into her hair, his breath warm as it ghosts over her ear. “What’s this for?” he murmurs, but she can hear the smile in his words. 

For everything I can’t say, Ladybug thinks, and squeezes him just a little tighter. For burrowing his way under her skin, for melting into the marrow of her bones, flooding her veins and drowning her heart, until he grew into something vital she’s not sure she could live without.

She should tell him she loves him, that she always had, but the words felt heavier than they might have once.

Tomorrow. Ladybug takes a deep breath before releasing him and stepping back to solid ground. There was always tomorrow. 

When she glances up, she catches a flash of something in his eyes, confused or curious or both. It was getting dangerous, how well he could read her.

“Goodnight, Chat Noir,” she says, the words soft.

He watches her, measuring, before letting the moment pass by unremarked. Her stomach flips, a dizzying blend of relief and disappointment. “Goodnight, my lady,” he murmurs. “See you tomorrow.”

Ladybug stays and watches him go, a black blur vaulting away until the dark claims him completely. “I have time,” she whispers to the wind and turns for home.

After all, there would always be tomorrow. 

She sets her phone and the Ladyblog aside and rises to her knees, opens the terrace hatch, and lets the night inside. Chat Noir drops in and lands in a crouch on her mattress, stark black against the pink of her bedding. The smile he offers her is a convincing one, well-practiced and charming, but she knows him better. 

 ***

Hours later, when a tell-tale tapping on her window draws her attention to glowing green eyes in the dark, Marinette wonders if the world is desperately trying to tell her something.

“Did I wake you?”

‘No, minou,” Marinette assures him, shifting back into her nest of pillows. “It is getting late, though.” 

It’s a statement and an invitation in one. They’ve developed a sort of shorthand since the first time he stumbled onto her balcony, broken and so lonely she ached from only the echoes of it. She can say so much in so few words, and he can hear the meaning that hides in between her breaths.

He hesitates, uncertain and almost shy in a way that never fails to find her smile and bring it to the light. She pats the bed beside her and lifts the blanket. His own smile turns a little less brittle and he crawls over to settle in at her side, warm despite the chill he brought in with him. 

Chat burrows under the covers before dropping his chin onto her shoulder. His wild hair is downy soft against her cheek. “What are we watching?”

She sifts her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and he melts into her touch like a starving stray. Like always, it cracks her heart. 

She’s learned her partner hurts, sometimes. She doesn’t know why, but she wonders, as she wonders how she never really saw it before. He has so many fragile fault lines running beneath boundless bravado and spirited humor, and though he tries not to show it to Ladybug, whatever it was the led him to Marinette’s terrace keeps him visiting more and more, restless and wounded, something unspoken clawing beneath his skin.

Marinette knows she probably shouldn’t have let him in, logistically speaking, and she certainly shouldn’t let him stay. She has her secrets to keep and he has his, and their little slumber parties have just become another. It’s asking for trouble, she knows.  

But he’s her best friend. If there’s a tempest that chases him away from his home and out into the night, if it’s all she can do, she’ll be his port in the storm.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir take on Mr. Pigeon, round...what? Fifty-four?” Marinette murmurs. She feels a groan rumble out of his chest, transforming into a quiet laugh. 

“Come on. All of Paris has to be sick of that fight by now.” 

In the glow of her screen, Marinette smiles. “Oh, definitely. But I could never deprive Alya of her well-deserved page views.”

Chat shifts around to look at her, his sharp grin softening into something warm that sets loose a swarm in her belly. “You’re a good friend, Marinette.” 

She bites back a sigh. A better friend might tell him the truth: that she’s not entirely who he thinks she is, that she knows him better than she ought to. That she knows he hides what hurts.

Then again, she keeps her scars to herself, too.

Marinette flicks the bell at his throat. The light tinkling of it cuts through the quiet. “Yeah, yeah. You only say that because I take you in and give you pastries.” 

“No,” he objects immediately, his expression serious. “Well, maybe a little, but it’s not the only reason.” 

She sinks deeper into her pillows, smiling all the while. Her hip lines up to Chat’s, soft cotton against battered leather. They lay side by side - thigh to thigh, knee to knee. It’s no different than sleepovers with Alya, except that it absolutely is. She doesn’t have to ask if he’s staying, and somewhere along the way, he stopped asking if he should go. 

“Bedtime, minou,” she mumbles. 

Chat leans down into his pillow. He faces her with bright eyes searching hers for something that, one day, Marinette is scared he’ll find.

“Goodnight, Marinette.”

Goodnight, my lady. 

Marinette shuts her eyes. Tomorrow, she swears. Tomorrow.  

[ororowrites]

By the Open Fire - Yahya x Black Character

I’m getting back into the writing spirit and decided to write a little Christmas one-shot about my latest celebrity crush. Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and Happy Holidays! 

Warnings: Very, very, light smut, fluffy as hell

Word Count: 2,664

Six months was entirely too long to be away from the love of her life. 

Candace tapped the tip of her pen against the blank page, hoping her writer’s block would magically disappear. Being an actress was so much easier than trying to write a novel. Why didn’t Candace just stick to her day job? Since the pandemic began, she was trying her hand at other talents and writing a novel seemed to be the one wish on her wish list that stood out. On top of Yahya being out of the country filming for most of the year, Candace was in search of a way to fight a depression that was on the brink of flooding her life. Her filming project had come to a halt until 2021 and she was stuck in her Manhattan apartment until it was safe to come out again.

Yahya would be home in a couple of days and Candace was looking forward to his arrival. So many months a part made her heart ache and the heart below her waist. After hundreds of facetime calls, numerous texts a day and a few Zoom sessions that included their shared friends, her man would be there in the flesh. 

“Fuck,” Candace cursed under her breath. The block wasn’t budging, forcing the actress to give up and retreat to the kitchen for wine. Her phone rang, interrupting her attempt to brainstorm for the next chapter in her book. “You always call at the perfect time,” she groaned at her twin sister on the other end of the line. 

“Candy, you can never just say hello like a normal human,” Trinity laughed. “But did mama call you with the latest gossip?” 

“No, but she’s been texting me all damn day. I’ve been busy so I haven’t checked them yet. Wassup,” she pressed, knowing the gossip was most likely church related. Their mother had been an usher at the same church since they were nine. 

“Girl,” Trinity exclaimed, before explaining the recent Chicago gossip. “Mrs. Jackson got caught cheating with James. Someone saw them out at the park together, kissing up on each other and all that.” 

“Ewww, in this panoramic,” Candace gagged. “I’m not shocked though. That old floozy was always flirting with daddy and almost made mama beat her ass one Easter Sunday. Remember that?” 

Trinity cackled, “Boooooy, mama was about to peel that woman’s skin back and break her neck. Ol’ girl was trying it that day and knows she is too old to still be acting like that. But enough about Florence, what have you been up to today? Ain’t your man on his way back to New York?” 

 Candace rolled her eyes because she knew where this conversation was going. Her sister had four children, leaving Candace the only childless sibling left in the pack of five children. 

“He’ll be back in two days and then we’re going to Colorado for Christmas. Since we can’t gather for the holidays, figured we’d go somewhere where we can safely distance ourselves but still get away. You know,” Candace said, swirling the wine around in her glass before taking a sip. 

“Mmmhhhhmmm. You gon’ get knocked up in them mountains,” Trinity added in a serious tone. “You two renting out a cabin or something up there?” 

“Ain’t nobody getting knocked up until she has a ring on her finger. Yes, we’re getting a cabin and just chillin’ out. Yahya has been working and needs a break. I’ve been....lonely.” Candace paced her kitchen, trying to think of an excuse to end this call before her twin irritated her soul. 

“Ya’ll haven’t seen each in months, he’s going to tear--” 

“Trin!” One major difference between the two of them was the lack of filter on Trinity’s part. The woman would say anything in front of anyone. “Look, I need to go straighten up before before Yah gets here. I’ll talk to you later?” 

Trinity sighed loudly on the other end because she knew her sister was rushing her off the call. Not liking people in her relationship business bugged Trinity because she was the nosey twin that wanted to know everything, much like their mother. “Well at least you won’t be needing to replace the batteries in that vibrator any time soon since the real Dr. Manhattan is back in the picture.” Before Candace could reply to the vulgar comment, Trinity squeezed out a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up. 

“Nasty ass,” Candace rolled her eyes and placed the phone back in the pocket of her jeans. 

The next two days were the same song. Candace’s brain did not want to focus on writing, so she eventually gave up and settled on online shopping to ease her frustration. The night her beautiful man was supposed to return, the actress fell asleep on the couch. His flight had been delayed by a couple of hours and he didn’t make it home until 3AM. 

He quietly entered the apartment, knowing Candace could never stay awake past twelve. The 6′3 actor, tip toed across the floor doing his best ballerina impression. Light snores could be heard over the infomercial playing on the television. She looked peaceful, almost child-like curled up on the sofa under her favorite coral throw. Yahya slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Candace’s pouted lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling under her breath and fell back into a slumber. 

“Baby,” he sung into her ear, placing another kiss on her cheek. 

“Hmm.” Candace finally opened her eyes to see her Christmas gift standing right in front of her. Even with blurred vision, the smell of his cologne was a dead giveaway. She screeched and scurried to her feet to throw her arms around Yahya’s neck. Naturally, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked them back and forth. “I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too,” he grunted, peppering Candace’s face in kisses. “My baaaaaaby,” Yahya sang as they fell to the sofa in a heap of long limbs. “It smells good in here, what you cook?” 

“Negro, you’re always looking for the food. Ol’ hungry ass,” Candace shook her head and playfully punched her lover’s bicep. “But, I saved you some fried rice and shrimp...homemade because that’s the only dish I’m good at.” 

“Oh, that’s not the only dish you’re good at,” he bit his lip, pulling Candace into a slow, passionate kiss, showing her how much he really missed her. With both of them being in the industry, they understood the heartache that came with being in a relationship and not seeing your significant other for weeks or months at a time. In this case, their time away from each other was extended due to the pandemic. “Mmmmm,” Yahya hummed into Candace’s lips before pulling away. He wanted to save the X-rated loving for their trip when he would have more time to rest and beat the severe jet lag from flying across the world for 12 hours. 

“We should get some food in this belly, babe,” Candace couldn’t contain the big cheesy grin that made her cheeks hurt. 

------- 

Christmas Eve 

Toni Braxton’s sultry voice filled the cabin as Yahya finished pouring the wine for their night cap. They had a busy day on the slopes trying not to kill themselves or break any bones. 

“Baby, where your fine ass at,” Yahya called out, making his way to the living room. The fireplace crackled, sending waves of heat throughout the cabin’s living area. The sun had set, but the mountains were still glowing against the dark sky. Their view was impeccable and the mood was set for a night of bonding and loving. “Candy, don’t make me come get you.” He warned playfully, sitting in front of the fire on their floor palette they had built earlier that night. 

“What was that,” Candace teased, stopping in the doorway getting a front row view of Yahya’s bare upper half. His back muscles bulged as he tended to the fire. 

“You back there sleeping, old lady,” he asked, with his back still turned away from her. 

“No, I was back there wrapping one last gift,” she replied, her voice dropping an octave prompting Yahya to turn around. 

His eyes almost fell out of his head, “Damn girl.” Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, he moved forward, inspecting the gift that was screaming to be unwrapped. “This all for me?” 

“Every inch of it.” Her words almost came out as a moan. The way this man was eyeing her had moisture pooling between her legs. The fancy lingerie wouldn’t last long at this rate. Words became an afterthought when actions began to do all the talking. All it took was a soul turning kiss to send them both to the floor on their palette in front of the fireplace. Candace couldn’t tell if the fire had her skin tingling or the anticipation of having his hands rubbing over the most sensitive parts of her body. The wine and fruits sitting on the mantle quickly became an afterthought. 

For minutes, they enjoyed exploring each other and parts they hadn’t touched in months. Yahya was nestled between Candace’s thighs, both of them breathless and horny. Candace’s lace get up was quickly removed and thrown to the side. She giggled when his lips grazed her belly button, those giggles soon turning into pants and whispered obscenities. With gentle licks, he coaxed her clit out of its hood.

 Toys were fun but they weren’t the real thing and oh did she miss the real thing. See, the real thing knew exactly how to pull her close to the edge before sending her back. Her man’s skilled tongue sank deeper drawing intricate patterns in her center as she massaged the top of his head with her fingertips. 

Candace’s breath hitched in her throat and her thighs shook awaiting the impending release. “Jesus,” she moaned as her body suddenly felt light and her center thumped. 

“Still as sweet as I remember,” he grinned, kissing Candace’s inner thigh. 

Another track on their Toni Braxton Christmas playlist began to play and Yahya rested his head on Candace’s stomach. Time was precious and Yahya didn’t want to waste an ounce of the rare quiet moment they had. Soon, they’d both be filming again and the world would be back to normal. 

“What’s on your mind, baby,” Candace asked, her heart and breath back to a steady rhythm. 

“I don’t spend enough time with you. At least not lately,” he began. “I knew what I was getting into when we were back in school. Still makes me feel bad though.” 

“Yah, I enjoy all the moments that we do get to spend together. You’ve been working your ass off this year. Yes, I would love more times like this but we should also celebrate all your accomplishments. Because you’re doing the damn thang and I’m so proud of you.” 

“Thank you. You always say the right shit to get me together,” he chuckled. “Sometimes a nigga just be in his feelings and I missed the hell out of you those six months.” 

“Yeah, six months has never gone by that slowly. You should see my credit card statements. I’ve never purchased that many sex toys in my life,” Candace covered her face with her arm. 

“Word? Well.... you won’t be needing those sex toys for awhile.” 

A smirk formed on her lips when she felt him bump against her thigh, “No, no, you just sit back and relax. I got this.” Sitting up, Candace placed a hand on Yahya’s chest, prompting him to switch her spots. 

“You are beautiful,” Yahya’s eyes gleamed. After all these years, he could still make Candace blush like a little school girl. “Don’t hide that smile, girl.” His large hands massaged her thighs as she eased him inside of her. 

They both exhaled, letting Toni Braxton serenade them through the night.

--------- 

Christmas Morning

They had finally made it to bed and got a few hours of sleep before Christmas morning arrived and it was time to get up for their next day of adventures. 

First, they needed to re-fuel their bodies after the festivities that took place the night before in front of the fireplace and in the bedroom. The shower also got some of their loving that morning. Candace could hear Yahya singing his own version of Joy to the World while whipping up his famous oatmeal. That man never knew the words to any song but sung his own words with all the confidence in the world. 

“Yah, do you ever know the words,” Candace questioned, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing a bowl from one of the kitchen shelves. 

“Nope,” he replied in a matter of fact tone. “It’s the Abdul-Mateen version.”

“Uh huh, sure.” 

Over breakfast, they continued joking about Yahya’s talent of making up his own versions of songs. Joy and love was on full display. They had always been the couple to roast each other and the next minute adore each other like the two biggest saps in the world.. Their relationship was built on a strong friendship they developed while they were in film school before reconnecting a few years later. 

They walked a short distance to one of the coffee shops near their cabin to grab hot chocolate. It was a chilly 45 degrees, but to avoid sitting in the shop, they walked back to their rental, taking a scenic route that Yahya suggested. 

“If we get lost or I end up falling off one of these mountains, I hope my family doesn’t kill you,” Candace joked, admiring the beautiful scene before them. 

“Oh, I know where we are. I was out here early yesterday morning trying to find the perfect spot,” Yahya replied. 

“Huh, perfect spot for what?” 

He didn’t answer right away and instead reached for Candace’s hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Something I’ve been wanting to do for awhile.” Placing his cup on one of the rocks, Yahya pulled a box from his pocket and got down on one knee. 

“What...what...” For once, Candace was speechless and caught completely off guard. 

“It’s hard as hell to surprise you and I’ve been trying to think of the perfect time to do this without your nosey ass finding out.” Tears began to flow down Candace’s cheeks. “We’ve been at this for a few years and I’ve had some of my best moments with you by my side. I want to make what we have forever.” He opened the small box to reveal a beautiful emerald cut ring. “Say love... would you marry me?” 

Being the goofball that she was, Candace laughed between her tears “You’re trying to get me pregnant on this trip, aren’t you?” 

“Well that can be arranged if you say yes.” 

“Ye...yes, of course!” Her vision blurred as Yahya slid the rock on her finger and stood to his feet to kiss his future bride. Moments later Yahya’s phone rang with an incoming Facetime call. 

“Hey Trinity, hey moms,” Yahya cheesed, turning his phone to share the screen with Candace. “Looks like you two aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.” 

“She said yes,” Trinity screamed, jumping up and down with their mother. “Aye, aye, ayyyeeeeee.” 

Still in complete shock and happiness overflowing, Candace shrieked, “Wait, you two knew about this the entire time!” 

“Yep! It’s been burning my ass to keep this secret from you all this time,” Trinity teased, sticking out her tongue. “He took mom with him to ring shop last year and everything.” 

“Welcome to the family, son. Congratulations baby,” Ms. Fredrick sang, clapping for the happy couple on the other end of the call. 

“Now, I hope you two are using protection out there because having a baby before the wedding is-” 

“Trinity,” Candace called out, shaking her head. 

They should have followed Trinity’s advice because approximately two months later..... 

Hope you all enjoyed! This is the first piece I’ve written in a year. I have no idea if I’ m going to continue the stories I began before my hiatus, yet. But, we will explore that in the coming year! Who knows, we may get more Candace and Yahya depending on how hard writer’s block slaps me. May the new year bring you all peace and joy! 

[goldenslumbersfanfiction]

i’m not sure if you want to keep going back to the little green verse but would you consider doing a one shot of dani, jamie, and luna visiting karen? i absolutely adore their dynamic in that verse and always go back to that fic :)

Read it here on AO3

It’s the summer after Luna turns five years old, and your mother invites you to Iowa. She had moved to a new house in an over 55 community at the beginning of the year, and she just finished redecorating. She has a guest room and a pull out couch, and she tells you that she’d love to have you visit. 

You delay as much as you can, because even though your relationship with her had honestly become something unrecognizable in it’s goodness over the last several years, you have not been back to Iowa since you returned to sell your house and all your things as quickly as you could. You delay until you can’t anymore, until Karen gets Luna on the phone one day and is chatting away with her and your daughter comes running into your room to tell you that grandma invited you all to visit, and that she has a swimming pool, and Luna will not shut up about it for weeks, and now you’re a bad mother if you hold her hostage from the promised fun it.

So you book your tickets, and you push down that feeling of unease about it, because Luna keeps zooming around your living room with her arms stretched wide like an airplane, and you'll probably have a good time. It’s only five days, but it’ll still be the longest stretch of time you’ll have spent with your mother in years, and Jamie will be there beside you the whole time, and she’s always been steady for you. And, you always did love to swim.

Jamie has strangely won Karen’s affection over time, and you only really know this because your mother had stopped making those high pitched humming noises like she’s judging you for your relationship when you would give updates on her over the phone, and more and more over the last five years whenever she calls and Jamie answers, she keeps her on the line for a while before asking for you. 

But even though you have Jamie’s hand in yours now, or maybe precisely because you have Jamie’s hand in yours, it’s strange to be back. 

Your mom picks you up from the airport, and on the car ride to her house Luna will not stop asking you questions about everything she’s seeing outside the window in the back with Jamie, and it’s so lovely, to hear the low hum of Jamie’s laugh mingled with yours when Luna shouts when she’s horses in a field that you pass and tries to count them as best as she can (accidentally skipping eleven, which you correct) before the car zooms away.

You pass your high school that still looks exactly the same, you drive along the road where you failed your drivers test on the first try, you pass the church you used to go to when you were little before your mom decided it wasn’t for you guys anymore, and there isn’t a single ounce of nostalgia in you for any of this. If anything, there’s just a vague resentment, a small creeping under your skin like the very atoms of you recognize that you do not belong. 

But Jamie is here with you, and your little girl is rattling off colors she sees and is telling your mother about how she met the pilot of the airplane, and honestly, you don’t care that you don’t belong here, because you belong with them, and that’s what matters.

//

Your mother’s house is wonderful. 

You don’t realize, until you’re unpacked and the stress of travel has left your system, until you see how much more relaxed in this place your mother is, that maybe you and her really did understand each other more than you ever even knew. 

You never really thought about her being unhappy in a space she forced herself to be in, in a life she thought she should have wanted, until she flicks the radio on and you see her walking around her kitchen and cutting up some apple slices for Luna, who she’s lifted up to sit on the counter beside her.

You never thought of it this way, that maybe your mother was just stuck, too. Maybe when you left, she only tried to drag you back as much as she could because she never considered what unhappiness actually felt like, couldn’t understand how you were able to identify it and refuse it, never considered she was living with it laced in everything she did all this time.

You don’t see it at all, here. You just see her tapping hand along to a tune, her jewelry clinking against the granite countertop, and you think of the joy and the freedom you felt when you finally settled into your first apartment with Jamie. How you finally felt like four walls with a lock and a key were created to keep you safe, not keep you trapped. 

You never considered this about your mother, but now, as she sings along in her terrible voice to the radio, and puts the cutting board into the sink, you think that everyone deserves to feel like they are the beating heart of a home.

//

It’s not that you aren’t having a good time, because you are. You are enjoying yourself, and you aren’t trying to convince yourself of that, it’s actually the truth. You are happy, you are so in love with Jamie, and Luna has never swam so much in her life. Your mother has been great, and you haven’t argued over a single thing since you arrived, haven’t even felt any hostile energy from her. Only openness. Only love.

She’s in the pool with Luna right now, and you’re sitting on a towel you have stretched out on the edge of the water, your feet dipping in just a bit, and you were surprised how readily and enthusiastically your mother said yes earlier when Luna asked if she could go in the pool with her. 

You’re kind of in a trance, as you watch this simple scene before you. Your daughter, swimming with all of the effort and coordination of a little girl with one year of YMCA swim lessons under her belt, kicking her feet absolutely everywhere, her eyes bugged out and foggy behind her little goggles that look like fish. Your mother, laughing and encouraging, telling her she’s doing such a great job, as she keeps walking farther back in the pool to test just how much more Luna can swim to her on her own, her arms outstretched and open for her. Luna, eventually grabbing hold of her as she flails and splashes in the water.

Luna screams over to you, pure elation and pride in her voice as she’s held on your mothers hip in the water, her goggles now hanging around her neck, and asks if you saw how far she swam, and you tell her you did, you saw it all, that she’s such a good swimmer, and your mother is pushing wet strands of hair from her face, is holding her close.

“Come in the pool, mommy!”

“Yeah, come in the pool, mommy.” 

You turn your head when you hear Jamie’s voice, and she’s gotten her bathing suit on and she’s smiling at you so big, she tosses her sunglasses onto your lap, but she pauses a bit.

“You alright?”

You hadn’t considered you weren’t actually, but you suppose you are, because you’re having a good time, so you smile and nod, and it seems to be good enough for Jamie, because she grins and then without warning, runs and cannonballs into the water and it splashes you and Luna is cheering and swimming over to her. Jamie lifts her up high and throws her back into the water, and it’s so fun, and it’s so good, and so pure, and there is so much simple love here, right now. You can see it all in front of you, so why do you feel like you are apart from it?

You thought you were alright, you wanted to be, but until Jamie asked you, you hadn't considered that you aren’t. And you see your mother swimming under water and grabbing at Luna’s feet. You see the pile of pool toys she took Luna to buy at Toys R Us yesterday, you see her putting Luna on her shoulders, and teaching her how to float on her back in the water, and suddenly, you can not get a full breath into your lungs.

You feel like there is static crawling up your neck, and you feel lightheaded, and you’re standing up and going back into the house because maybe if it’s quieter, maybe if you get out of the sun, maybe if you just have a glass of ice water or lock yourself in your room, the darkness and stillness will calm you down.

But the more you take in shaking breaths, the farther you feel from sanity, the farther you feel from stability, and you close the door to the guest room behind you and prop your back up against the hard, cold wood, and you will yourself to calm down. You close your stinging eyes, breathe, in and out, and you try to get your body under control, but all you can hear is buzzing in your ears and you gasping for breath because it’s never enough air, you can’t get nearly enough inside of you, all you can feel is pressure building under your skin, and when you exhale, you are sobbing. 

You clasp your hand over your mouth, close your eyes, because you feel so loud, you feel too much, like you are screaming, like you are an earthquake, but you can still hear your mother, and Luna and her delightful laugh just outside, so you must just be invisible. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door, a shake of the handle, and you hear Jamie say it’s her, so you unlock it and step away as she opens it. She comes inside, a towel pulled around her shoulders, her hair still a bit drippy, her brows pulled together as she shuts the door behind her.

You hear her say, “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” over your shaking sobs and desperate breaths, and her hand is wiping away tears from your cheeks you hadn’t even known were falling. “What’s going on? What happened?”

You cross your arms, like if you just hold your muscles tight enough, everything will stop feeling like it’s caving in on you, and you don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know, you don’t know…

“I don't know. I was just...I was just sitting there and I…I don’t know why I’m like this, god, why am I like this?” You still can’t stop crying, you still feel like you can not breathe.

“Okay, come here.” Jamie pulls you in so tight, and you wrap your arms around her back and hold on to her, because she is the only thing that is real, she is the only thing that is solid and steady and her skin is cool from the water and salty with your tears and she’s telling you to breathe in time with her while she holds you, so you try as best as you can. You focus on her, on the press of her against you, on the chlorine scent on her skin, on her hands on your back keeping you tethered while the rest of your reality swirls and thrashes around in your skull. 

It takes a few minutes, but you get a few deep breaths in and your head feels less like it’s a hurricane of static electricity, more heavy and cloudy and tired, but Jamie is still holding you.

She pulls back slightly, wipes the tears from your cheeks again, even though you haven’t really stopped crying. “You alright?” 

You nod, even though you aren’t really, but you feel like you’re through the worst of it. 

“You want to tell me what happened?”

You don’t reply right away, you’re still sort of in a daze, but you step back from her and go to sit on the edge of your bed, and you shrug, because you still really aren’t sure what happened, all you know is...

“She’s just...she’s so good with her, you know?” Fresh tears tumble down your face and you wipe them away. Jamie just nods. You let out another sob, a wet, sad thing, and your voice is so small when you ask, “Why didn’t I get that?”

“Oh, love.” She’s beside you now, her towel safely under her as she sits down on the comforter, and she pulls you in again, and when you sink into her this time it’s less about a swirling storm around you, it’s more about leaning on her because you feel heavy and worn down and Jamie has always been a safe place to land. Jamie has always kept you afloat. 

You cry into the crook of her neck, and her hands are gentle against your back. She whispers things into your hair that you don’t quite catch, but you don’t really think it matters so much, the exact words that she’s saying. You feel it all the same. It’s soothing, and it calms you, and you aren’t crying anymore, but you still feel wrung.

“Look, I know it’s...corny, or whatever. But...people change. Christ, if you met me even two years before you did, I’d have been the last person you’d volunteer to raise a kid with, let alone hitch your life to, I can promise you that.”

A burst of laughter escapes you, and you press a kiss into the patch of skin closest to your lips, because Jamie has always been this for you, and every time you think you can’t love her more for it, she gives you another reason to.

“And I’m not saying that takes away the bad things, you know? Not saying you shouldn’t demand peace from it. But...the woman she is now wouldn’t do that to you, if she could make those choices again. Problem with time, really, what’s done is done. For better or worse.”

You nod. And Jamie tells you that you should talk to Karen about it, if you want to. Not on this trip maybe, but at some point. 

You think you won’t, you think that’s a bad idea, that she would be reactive and make you second guess everything. That all may be true, but after you take a nap, after you spend the rest of the day in the pool, and go grocery shopping with her, after you cook dinner together and she passes you a bowl of popcorn when you all settle down to watch a movie together, you think it might not be such a bad idea. And you aren’t really worried she will stop speaking to you anymore. You aren't worried she will be cruel to you in the way that she was when you were a teenager. You think, maybe, she might actually try to help you get the answers you don’t have. You think if you ever did tell her, she might feel upset by it all, but not from defensiveness, but because you are in pain, and she didn’t know.

It’s not a conversation for now, and that’s okay. You learn that even though you are still, always, healing, that you can still enjoy her, that you can still love her fully, that you can sit beside her and watch the VHS tape of Matilda that Luna snuck into her suitcase that you found when you unpacked her clothes, and it can still all be good.

//

You and Jamie have taken the guest room, and Luna has been sleeping on the pullout couch. She’s still so small that she doesn’t even really need to use the pullout, could just sleep right on the couch cushions, but she has a lot of fun setting up the bed every night, so you don’t mind. Jamie lets her think that she’s so strong that she pulls it out all on her own, but really Jamie’s got her hand along the side of it helping her along, and the way Jamie’s muscles strain and pop when she does this as you watch from off to the side definitely doesn’t hurt.

You help get the blankets and pillows set up for her, and usually she’s out pretty quickly. It’s the same tonight. A full day of fun in the pool and dinner in town means she’ll be sleeping soundly through the night.

But it’s around midnight when you hear her start crying. You are still up, Jamie slipping into sleep beside you, and you still have the TV on a low hum in the background, but you hear her, you always can. 

Before you can even make your way out of bed, though, she’s knocking on your door, and you open it to find her, holding her stuffed whale and her blanket, tears streaming down her face, her little lip trembling, and absolutely distraught. 

You get on your knees so you’re level with her, and you pull her in and she fits right there in you. Between hiccuping sobs, you manage to get that she had a nightmare, and she’s scared, and she wants to sleep with you tonight. Jamie is awake now and sitting up in bed behind you now, pulling down the covers so Luna can settle in between you.

You keep the TV on, because you know when Luna is like this it doesn’t help her to plunge her back into complete darkness, even if you are beside her.

She woke your mother up, though. You can tell because the crack under your door brightens when the hall light turns on and you can see her footsteps shuffling past your door, and you don’t expect her to knock, thought maybe she was just taking the awoken opportunity to use the bathroom, but a few minutes later, she does. 

The door creaks open, and she sticks her head in, and asks if everything is okay in a whisper. You nod, tell her she can go back to sleep, but she pushes the door open just a little bit further, and you see she’s carrying a small mug in her hand.

“Wasn’t sure if you did this with her, but...always worked for you.”

You sit up and take the warm cup into your hands, it’s light and soothing aroma sending you back into a collection of memories of your mother you had completely forgotten about. 

“What’s this?” Jamie’s voice grumbles beside you.

“Whenever Dani had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep, this always helped. Warm milk with some honey.”

“I forgot about this.”

“You were always such a nervous kid. Had me going through an extra gallon of milk a week just to get you to sleep through the night.”

“Yeah, I...thank you.”

She nods, her hand brushing your shoulder and she presses a light kiss to your head, wishes you goodnight, and then she’s gone, closing the door softly behind her and switching off the hall light.

Luna drinks the milk, and you can feel her nerves smoothing over, the heavy limbed lull of sleep creeping back into her little body.

She settles in between you and Jamie, and you turn off the TV, and she asks you if you can tickle her back, and that always helps to soothe her. You run your hand along the sun-warmed skin under her favorite Princess Jasmine nightgown and you feel her breath even and deep under your palm as she drifts into a peaceful sleep, safe and snug between the two of you.

Jamie’s hand reaches for yours after you pull Luna’s nightgown back down over her body, and she holds it close to her. Your eyes are adjusted to the dark just enough to see her sleepy expression, to see how beautiful she looks when she’s looking at you in moments like this. These soft, quiet, in-between moments that you love so much. 

You fall asleep like this, with your arm draped over Luna, with your hand safely threaded through Jamie’s and pressed against her chest, the three of you the beating heart of your own little home.

[ri-ahhh]

Okay but hear me out: Grayson begging to come with you to take care of your baby siblings (like 2 and 4 years old) and he’s ON IT but then they get really out of hand and he’s like “I can see why birth control is a thing”

Listen I worked in a daycare for four years and I’m a firm believer that anyone wanting to have a kid needs to work that job for a week. Or like, forget the stupid baby dolls you take care of in high school, let a 15 yr old take care of 5 babies or 10 2 yr olds by themselves and see if they’ll have unprotected sex lol

You’re walking around your apartment, straightening up the place and removing anything potentially breakable or that might be a choking hazard in preparation for the day you promised to babysit your niece and nephew, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hello?” you answer, unplugging a stray phone charger from the wall socket by the couch and replacing it with one of the childproof plastic covers.

“Hey,” came Grayson’s voice on the other end of the line. “What time do you think you’ll head over?”

You pause in the middle of the room, confused momentarily, then smack your palm to your forehead. You had totally forgotten the plans you had made with your boyfriend to have a pool day at his house. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Gray. I totally forgot, I told my brother like three weeks ago that I’d watch his kids for the day while he and his wife go house hunting.”

“Oh, damn,” he says, disappointed. His voice perks up when he speaks again, however. “I love kids, though! What if I came over and helped you out?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to spend your Saturday wrangling two toddlers? They’re little hellions, babe, to put it nicely.”

You can hear his grin through the phone. “Yeah. I wanna see you be an auntie.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, you relent. You’d be lying if you tried to say that you aren’t thinking about him being in dad mode for the day now, too. “Alright, but you don’t get to bail when shit hits the fan. Let me check that it’s cool with my brother.”

An hour later, you’ve got your just-turned-two niece Cami and her four year-old brother Cash sitting on your couch, entranced by Aquanauts playing on the TV, when Grayson knocks at the door. The kids’ heads jerk up, and your nephew looks at you questioningly, always excited for the opportunity to be a big boy and answer the door. You smile and nod, giving him permission to scramble off the couch with you following close behind.

You help him heave the door open, and he looks up at Grayson standing there, friendly smile fixed on his face when he sees your nephew. 

“Hey, little man! Can I come in?”

Cash nods with an excited smile of his own. You had already told him that your friend Grayson would be coming over to play with them. Outgoing and extroverted and a genuine people-person to no end, he had been as jittery and excited as if you had given him a spoonful of sugar ever since.

Grayson steps past the threshold of your apartment, and holds his fist out for Cash to bump. “I’m Grayson.”

You feel two little hands tug on your shirt, and you look down to see Cami reaching up to be held, curious about this new person but also cautious. You sweep her up and settle her on your hip, then nod at your nephew. “Gray, this is Cash. Tell him how old you are, bud.”

“Four!” he shouts, counting out the correct number of fingers before holding them up to Grayson. “I had a Spider-Man party! Do you like Spider-Man?”

“Dude, I love Spider-Man,” Grayson says exaggeratedly, giving Cash an enthusiastic high-five. He looks at Cami, who’s got her head resting on your shoulder as she watches this stranger interact with her brother. “And who’s this?”

“You gonna tell Grayson your name?” you ask Cami, knowing it’ll be hit or miss if she does or not. Much more of an introvert and also used to having an older silbling do everything for her, she isn’t quite as quick to warm up to people as her rambunctious brother. Sure enough, today is a no-go, but she still observes Grayson with big eyes and a fascinated little smile. 

Before you can answer your boyfriend, Cash speaks for her in that typical older-sibling fashion. “Her name is Campbell, but we call her Cami. Or Cam.”

“No way! My sister’s name is Cam, too!”

That’s all the small talk and mutual ground Cash needs to grab Grayson by the wrist and drag him into your living room to play with the pile of toys on the rug. He flashes you a grin as he passes, clearly impressed with himself that he’s already made such good friends with Cash.

You grin and roll your eyes, but follow them and sit with your back resting against the couch and Cami planted in your lap.

Admittedly, Grayson is a natural as he makes all the appropriate dinosaur and car crash noises and gladly accepts the Batman action figure instead of Spider-Man. He even coaxes Cami to take one of the animal figures, meeting her smile with a bright one of his own, glad to be making some headway now with the precious little girl in your arms.

Until Cash catches sight of the little plastic tiger now in Cami’s hands, and decides to ruin the moment completely.

“That’s mine, Cam!” he shouts, dropping Spider-Man and snatching the toy from her.

You know it’s coming, but Grayson is completely unprepared for the shrieking scream that Cami lets out as she clambers off your lap to take back the toy. Gray winces and looks at you in shock, but you’re just immediately going into ‘stop the fight’ mode.

“Cash, you weren’t even playing with that,” you reprimand, holding out your hand for him to reluctantly drop the toy into. You sit Cami on the rug next to him and make her look you in the eye. “Cami, use your words next time. What do you say when you want something?”

Her eyes light up when she sees the toy in your hand that she knows is about to belong to her once again. “P’ease!” she says, swiping her hand across her chest as well, leftover baby sign language engrained in her little brain.

You hand her the toy and make her say ‘thank you’ as well, then catch Grayson watching you in awe. “You handled that well,” he says.

You blush a little and shrug, crawling across the carpet now that the kids are happy and occupied so you can plant a soft kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth.

He chuckles and kisses you again, equally as chaste. “Hi.”

There are a couple more arguments that you have to stop, then they settle down for a bit while they eat a morning snack of banana slices and Cheerios. Cami definitely dumps her half-empty bowl on the floor to signify that she’s finished, and Cash accidentally spills his water everywhere after taking the lid off because ‘he’s not a baby.’ Grayson offers to clean it up while you take the kids to the bathroom to wipe Cami’s messy hands and face and to change Cash’s soaking wet clothes.

There’s a park nearby your apartment, so once everything is tidy again, the two of you round up the excited little balls of energy and head out the door. Both kids have easily become infatuated with Grayson, and as the four of you walk the sidewalk on your way to the park, he carries Cami on his hip while holding tightly on to Cash’s hand to stop him from chasing bugs into traffic. It’s an adorable image, to say the least, and makes your chest swell warmly.

You like watching him run around with Cash equally as much while you push Cami on the baby swings. Grayson is learning first-hand that even someone as in-shape as himself is no match for the energy of an excited four year-old. He chases Cash around the playground, flies him around like an airplane, and plays a game of tag before finally convincing him to come to the swings as well.

You laugh when he makes his way over, panting heavily. “Having fun?” you ask amusedly.

Grayson doesn’t answer, just takes his place behind the swing Cash chooses and catches his breath for a moment as he starts to push him.

“Just trying to figure out how my dad did this with me and E.”

Lunch and nap come next, which goes a little smoother than snack had. Grayson plays with them on the floor again while you cook, and you let him put out the squabbles himself until everything is ready. Cash only puts up a small fight when you lay them down in your bed. They’re both out in a matter of minutes, exhausted by the activities and excitement of their morning.

When you emerge back in the living room, you find Grayson slumped on the couch, staring at the TV that’s now playing Dora.

“Brushing up on your Spanish?” you ask, plopping down next to him and snuggling up to his side. “Or are you watching for the adventure?”

Grayson chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder so he can pull you closer to him, his voice gruff and tired. “You were right. Hellions, both of them. Cute, but insane.”

You tip your head up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “For what it’s worth, they loved you.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice lighting up with the smile you can’t see.

You nod against his chest, grinning as you think back on the day. “Absolutely. Cami never takes to strangers that fast, and you were able to keep up with Cash, which is a feat not many others can do.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Kinda makes me scared to have kids now. It’s only been like five hours and I’m already exhausted.”

“You’re meant to be a dad Gray,” you assure him quietly, lifting your head and offering him a gentle smile. “If I didn’t already know that before, everything I saw today definitely made me think so. And no good thing comes easy, right? I think being a little tired is worth having one of those of your own, don’t you?”

“For sure,” he nods, cupping your cheek and dipping down to kiss you softly.

You hum into his mouth, needy for him now that you’ve got him all to yourself, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down until you’ve got him sprawled our on top of you. You trace his lips with your tongue before slipping it between them, but at the first slide of it against his, Grayson pulls back.

“Is this okay, you know, with them...?” He nods down the hall to the closed door of your room.

You nod. “They’re heavy sleepers. We should probably keep it to over the clothes stuff just in case, though. And my brother will be here in an hour to get them, so we only have to wait until then.”

It’s enough to satisfy him, and Grayson ducks down again, ready to pick right back up, until he breaks away from your mouth once more.

“What?” you ask breathily, looking up at him with both confusion and frustration.

He reaches an arm behind you to grab the remote sitting on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry, I just can’t make out while Dora is screaming at me to ‘vamonos.’”

[mosaicofdreamsanddragons]

Something Missing

Red Son waiting for Noodle Boy in episode 8.

You can also read this on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960851

Red Son cackled madly to himself as he glanced at the small apartment. Here he was under Noodle Boy’s very noise! Any moment he would appear, guard dropped, only have the key swiped from his very grasp!!!!!

Getting a hold on himself he opened the window and slipped in. No point in bursting in and making a scene. There would be time for that later, but now was all about the stealth.

The room was small and dark after the brightness of the sun. He debated setting his hair on fire to get some light but decided against it. No point in giving himself away just yet; Noddle Boy could be along any minute.

Instead he contented himself in trying to find the best place for an ambush…even if there weren’t a lot of options. The room was a square with only two doors, one to a bathroom and one to the outside. He supposed he could hide in the bathroom, but that was beneath him. So he contented himself to wait right in front of the main entrance so he could be the first thing Noddle Boy would see.

No, it wasn’t enough to just be the first thing he saw, he was the son of the Demon Bull King and Iron Fan Princess. His appearance should shock and amaze. He looked around the room for a prop. The chair would do. He shoved it in front of the door and lounged on it like it was his throne. No, it needed more. He grabbed one of the Noodle Boy’s books and held it up so the first thing Noodle Boy would see was how not interested he was, all cool and collected like breaking-in had been a breeze.

Noodle Boy didn’t come.

And didn’t come.

And didn’t come.

Eventually he ran out of book. With nothing left to do he threw the book on the floor and went hunting for another one. Defiantly because his image depended on him having a cool book to read and not because he wanted to know what happened next. He didn’t care what happened next in a silly comic about the Monkey King. His hair caught fire at the lack of reading material because he was sick of waiting is all.

Noodle boy was still not coming. He sat back down on the chair, less interesting book on noodles in hand. His eyes started to wander around the room. Pictures of Monkey King (of course), a large poster of noodles (he should have expected that), a green dragon poster which caught the eye only because it was the only poster of its kind, lots and lots of Monkey shaped clocks.

There was something missing. He couldn’t place his finger on it but it made his skin crawl.

He widened his observation. The room was filled with clutter tucked into a semblance of order he was sure only made sense to the Noodle Boy. Dirty dishes piled on the counter (all noodle bowls, was this boy anything but on brand?). There were scattering of toys: some Monkey shaped, others for video games. Books were on the shelves, papers on the table, and a plant in the corner.

From the room he could tell Noodle Boy was messy, a gamer, and liked Noodles and Monkey King. But something was missing. Something that should be there that wasn’t. Some insight into Noodle Boy’s life that he shouldn’t already know.

Noodle Boy worked with noodles, he knew that. Noodle Boy was the new Monkey Kid, he knew that. Noodle boy gamed, Red Son already knew that from bumping into him at the arcade (because he was stalking his enemy and no other reason). And he knew Noodle boy was messy because his shirt had a stain on it he’d never bothered to clean. All that was spelled out over the house, but there was nothing new.

It was almost to perfect.

Had he been expecting him?

Suddenly on his guard, Red Son leapt to his feet and scanned the room again. There didn’t appear to be any sort of hidden cameras, but he could never be too sure. The plant was the most obvious place for a bug so he went over to it, sweeping its pot and leaves for any obvious abnormalities. Nothing. He ran his hands along the underside of the desk and the counter next, still nothing. He tried the bookcase. Still nothing.

He stepped back feeling uneasy again. So there were no bugs, none that he could find at least. Still, since he had begun to search, might as well finish. Reconnaissance and all that.

He sorted through the letters on the desk. Laundry bill, add for a local pizzeria, add for a local chain restaurant, rent, credit card bill, gas bill, water bill…wait. Noodle Boy had to pay for water? Wasn’t that like essential for survival? Who thought of that? It was so…evil. Red Son wasn’t sure if he was impressed or offended that he hadn’t thought of that.

He tried the waste basket below the desk next. A crumpled up add for the shop across the street with the rival owners face covered in doodles. Bills. A statement of credit stating…wow. Those numbers weren’t very high. He glanced over at the bills on the table and did some quick math. Huh. That was not good for Noodle Boy. It suddenly struck him that Noodle Boy might be poor. He had never thought of that before. It just, wasn’t something he really came into contact with.

Squashing the tiny flare of sympathy until he couldn’t hear it anymore, Red Son turned his attention to the bookcase. Most of them were about Monkey king. Monkey King the Comics, editions 1-10 (but no 12, blast) Monkey King the Animated Series: Guide to Characters and World. Myths Summarized: Rise of the Monkey King. Even Journey to the West itself. The last two books on the shelf were a bit more diverse. 101 Ways to Cook Noodles. Apartments and You! He put the book he’d been reading on the shelf next to the other noodle book, and as he did so something caught his eyes.

The tag line for Apartments and You! read “How to Survive on Your Own.” He picked the book and skimmed its yellowed pages, searching for a clue. The book was old, it must have been a gift. But from who? He let the pages fall to the front. There was no dedication. No note in the front cover. There was a stamp though he squinted and made out…

“Puti’s Second Hand Book Store.”

“Rrrrgghhh!” he slammed the book closed and threw it to the floor. He’d been so close, so close, to finding some clue about where the Noodle Boy came from!

He felt the anger leave him as quickly as it came and let himself fall back upon Noodle Boy’s bed without fear of setting it alight. Naming what he’d been searching for, even if the search had been subconscious, forced him to admit what had been bugging him so much.

There were no pictures of family.

Red Son’s house was full of pictures of him and his mom. They were all shapes and sizes, from black and white to instant selfies. His mom had covered their house with them ever since she first came home alight about this new thing she’d found called a camera.

When he’d been younger it had annoyed him, he’d hated posing for all the stupid pictures, but now as he stared around Noodle Boy’s life, he realized why it had mattered so much to his mom. At least he would always have something to remember her by, at least he would always have proof she loved him, at least he, even when he could barely remember his father’s voice, had one hand-painted portrait of his father’s face. He knew who he was and so much of that, even his name, was tied to his family. But Noodle Boy…

Noodle Boy had no one.

And it fueled the tiny part of him that had become vocal when he’d deduced Noodle Boy’s financial troubles. A small lingering part of him that looked at the troubles of another and wondered if mayhaps he was overly cruel for tormenting him.

And the small feeling needed to die.

He was Red Son, son of the Demon Bull King and Iron Fan Princess. Noodle Boy was the Monkey Kid, he enemy. He didn’t care what his home life was like.

And if humans didn’t care enough for their own cubs to leave a picture, a letter, or some sort of sign of affection, then it was just one more reason his family should be in charge. They never forgot who they loved or where they came from.

He heard a noise outside.

A laugh.

The Noodle Boy’s laugh.

Good.

He needed a little therapeutic destruction.

[dawnhardn]

INTRODUCING... DAWN HARDIN

stitch by stitch, i tear apart if brokenness is a form of art i must be a poster child prodigy

Name: Dawn Hardin

Gender: cis woman

Age: forty-four

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 5'4

Home District: capitol

Status: stylist

TW FOR FULL BIO: infertility, loss of body autonomy, hospital mention, mention of bugs.

i. of growing up

The mystery that has plagued her entire life is this: Dawn doesn't know her beginning. She knows all about the day she was adopted, oh, that's the part her parents boast about; her entire childhood, all she heard about was how she was saved. Only a toddler when she was plucked from District Nine, with nothing but scraps for clothes and a small pendant on a necklace with Nine's symbol, she doesn't remember much. She doesn't know where her story begins, nothing before that fateful day when she stumbled into her new parents' arms, kicking and crying, a child begging to be loved. Sometimes, when it's really quiet at night, she thinks she can still hear the wheat rustling with the gentle wind.

They were fine folk, her parents, but they had a hard time differentiating between love and possession. She grew up having everything she could ever want when it came to money; the prettiest dresses, the accessories, the hairs, the coolest toys and all the books her arms could carry. And they gave her attention, too. They gave her tenderness, sometimes. They loved her, but in their own way. She always needed to prove herself to them, she was always scrambling for their acceptance. She was their shiny trophy, the poor girl who had to be grateful to be living such a luxurious life, the lucky one, out of so many other less fortunate orphans. They never let her forget that, and despite loving them, too, she was always aching for something more.

When she's young and they push her to work in the Games, she obliges, like she always does. The yearly horror show often makes her avert her eyes from the television, sure, but she can pull her lips back and offer a smile and lie her way through this. Styling was the easiest option to stay far enough away from the carnage, and although it protected her from having to consider some of the more dreadful aspects of the Game, it didn't keep her from mourning every single loss. Every kid that wore her creations was held so dearly to her heart, even when she was just starting. The motherly instinct she felt towards them was something she couldn't hold it in if she tried. The pain of loss never gets easier to face, no matter how much the pile of bodies under her grows.

ii. of loving

She grew up thinking love was a fighting game, one step out of line and you lost it. She thought love meant buying shiny things, and parading around parties, and choking back tears. She had partners in her teenage years, silly flings here and there that never went anywhere, and she thought that was it. Love wasn't unconditional, love wasn't for everyone. 

Like a moth who couldn't find a flame, by her young adult years Dawn had accepted that she was destined to flap her wings around the darkness aimlessly until she tired herself out. And despite all this emptiness, she still carried her heart in her sleeve, a safety hazard as much as it was her biggest strength. Her hands always ready to help someone in need, she was always scrambling to give out the kind of unconditional love she never got from her parents, an empty cup pouring itself to fill others.

Then, she met Aeron. He was kind, and gentle, and he might as well be the Sun itself for the way he warmed up every room he walked into. The connection between them felt immediate, something sharp and undeniable, like the stars had always known their names. Dawn feels as if she can breathe for the first time in years.

She was born to be a mother, she knows this now. She'd grown up mothering every living thing that passed her way, and for a while there, she thought that would be enough; taking care of tributes, taking care of friends, taking care of fleeting lovers. But once she meets Aeron, she realizes the itch runs much deeper. It's a consuming desire, electric all through her body, how badly she wants to have children running around their house. Little ones to climb up the tree in their backyard, and draw on walls, and fill up the house with laughter. Aeron wants to be a father, too. Everything works out perfectly in her life, until it doesn't.

iii. of fighting

She can't dedicate herself to a family while she's still overworked by the Capitol, so when she puts in the request to retire, it's only because it feels fitting. She has an excuse to be let go, and they have an excuse to find a better stylist to put in her place. Someone more passionate, someone with more drive. She's already twenty-eight, she's sure there are handfuls of much younger, much more talented people out there they can choose from.

They don't let her retire. While at first, she thought she was offering them a perfectly balanced way out, now she realizes she was begging. And they hadn't obliged. She'll never forget the way Aeron's face fell when she told him the news, and the way he'd marched out of their house the very next morning, to fight for their future. To fight for her.

The next day, when she comes back home, exhausted and longing for her partner, she notices his coat isn't hanging by the door. There aren't any pots on the stovetop with dinner ready, waiting for her. There aren't extra shoes by the door, no notes on the fridge. She rushes to their bedroom to find none of his clothes in their closet, his toothbrush, his medicine, everything he ever touched, gone. Wiped from existence. She would've thought herself completely insane if it wasn't for the ring still on her finger, his initials written into it.

That's the message they send, to warn her never to stand up again. They send silence. No matter how many times she asks, they never tell her what they did to him. She can be on her knees, she can be pulling her hair out; she has barged into offices screaming until she had to be dragged away by security, and they still never give her anything. Nothing except a few more threats to remind her of the leash they have around her neck. They tug, and she follows.

iv. of giving up

There's no way around it, she knows, and once she understands that, something in her dies. She settles for the reality of never having her loved one back, and it kills her, too. If before she was a searching moth, now she has been caught by the capitol, her delicate wings pinned to an exhibitional board and drying out.

She continues working for them, and with every passing year, she's less and less inspired. The critics drive into her, looking to sink their teeth into easy prey, reminding her she's doing a terrible job any chance that they can. These jabs never work their way under her skin, because there's a state of numbness after she accepts the loss of Aeron in her life. Her dreams, her love, her everything, gone so quickly, ripped from her arms without notice. She has no hopes of him even being alive.

There's numbness, and it's almost uneventful because of it. She feels like she's barely living anymore, simply surviving to get by, pushing one foot after the other to keep moving. There's a spark of wrath somewhere, a flicker of red in the darkness of her chest that leaps around every once in a while, but her own dullness doesn't let it thrive. Another year passes, another Games she works on. That year, when she's sending her kids off to battle, her vision fails her.

She can't remember collapsing, but it must've been what happened. One minute she's within the Game headquarters feeling dizzy, the next minute she's waking up in a doctor's office. Her body shakes with shivers, her hands are as pale as the gown they have her wearing. The staff looks at her with pity, their eyes avoiding hers like they're hiding something. They speak in terms she's never heard of, and they're not direct when she demands to know what happened, but the gist of it is this -- there's more pain for her to carry in her life. She's been poisoned -- they don't tell her how --, and the substance has rotten her insides. She's pushed out of the hospital with the diagnosis of a lifetime of migraines, occasional shaky hands, and the inability to ever have children. That's when she understands the message they're sending.

And she feeds the spark in her chest until it turns into a forest fire.

v. of loving ii

When she loves these kids, now, it's almost out of spite. That's the one thing the Capitol can't take from her, the one thing they've tried beating out of her when they killed her spirits. They almost succeeded, too. They made her feel weak, hopeless, nothing more than an undead carcass dragging herself around without a goal. She won't let them do it, ever again.

So she loves the kids. She doesn't turn away from the screens anymore, she feels every splatter of blood, she cries for every death. She loves them endlessly, and without reservation, and without fear. She offers warm arms they can run into, and a shoulder to cry on, and a caring hand to push their hairs back. If the Capitol wants to kill her for this, then so be it. 

She'll accept death knowing she went down with a goddamn fight.

[comeoncomeout41]

I just watched the Elf episode of The Holiday Movies That Made Us on Netflix after remembering that I started writing an Elf supercorp AU for Christmas in 2018 (don’t judge me) and found my old notes app first draft so Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! MAYBE I’ll finish it this year... (she said as a lying liar who lies.)

*The fic in which Kara’s pod crash landed at the North Pole, 13 years later her adopted elf mother Eliza and her elf sister Alex tell her about her cousin Kal now Clark Kent and she decides to go to Metropolis to meet the only other person like her. She meets Lena “naughty list” Luthor. And Clark and Lois are Jewish.

🔥🎄🎄🎄🧝‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Some elves are born to work in Santa’s workshop. Kara Zor-El, however, was not born an elf or even from this earth for that matter.

When her pod crash landed at the North Pole thirteen years ago, she had no memory of a lost planet, no recollection of a cousin she was sent to protect who had already grown up to become Superman, and no idea how to be an alien living with elves. Santa was perturbed as to what to do with a skittish teenaged alien who cringed at the sound of tiny hammers building toys.

The elf doctor, Eliza Danvers, having a daughter around Kara’s age, naturally stepped in to help raise her, teach her elf culture, and attempt to control her powers. There were several mishaps of course.

Kara’s eyes lit up the first time she saw a Christmas tree. Literally. The green pine was burned to a crisp with her heat vision. But she quickly uprooted another tree from outside the elf village and helped Alex redecorate the new tree. And spent several hours carefully placing the new lights and ornaments, after breaking several of the glowing strings of light and the ornate red and blue colored bulbs. When Alex had trouble reaching the top of the tree, Kara swooped her up under her arms to help her place the star on the tree. And she managed to only break one of Alex’s ribs in the process.

After years of being at the North Pole, Kara was actually a wonderful toy maker once she learned to control her strength. When other elves managed to meet their five hundred toy quotas, Kara would have five thousand toys completed. The workshop wouldn’t need any teddy bears for another century, but finding storage for all of the toys Kara built was becoming difficult.

So from there, Kara’s primary job became Elf Master of Letters. She spends several hours each day answering letters for Santa as Santa’s tight schedule and the millions of letters he received each year became too much for the old bearded man. And although she always needed a little proofreading as the different Earth languages were sometimes difficult and much different than her native alien tongue, she enjoyed writing and speaking to children all over the world, bringing them the joy of Christmas.

Alex read over the letter Kara had just finished typing. Her younger but much bigger sister looked to her with a twinkle in her eyes and waited patiently. When Kara saw the red ink marked all over Kara’s letter she cooed and gasped, “That red is so pretty Alex. I know Raymond in Denver will love it! He told me red was his favorite color. I wanted to tell him that’s Santa’s favorite color too! But I didn’t want to give all of the big man’s secrets away, you know?”

Alex sighed and rested her hand on her sister’s shoulder, “Kara, these are your typos. Look here.”

Alex pointed to the last line, “Beleiving isn’t singing. Singing is beleiving.”

“He asked if he could see what the North Pole looks like. I set him straight. Believing isn’t singing. Singing is believing. That was in that one Santa Claus movie you had me watch, which I know isn’t historically accurate or based on true events, but I still,”

“Kara, remember your English spellings. I before e except after c? And it’s seeing not singing.

“Except in some cases like neighbor and weigh. And I just thought! It’s a play on words because ‘the best way to spread Christmas cheer, is singing loud for all to hear!’”

Alex smiled at her then, “You’ll get the hang of it.“

“Yeah, okay so I can’t spell that great, but the writing was good right?” Kara looked hopeful.

Alex shoved her shoulder, “You know you have more Christmas spirit than any other elf. Now come on and fix these typos, so we can go drink hot chocolate with Mom.”

That night when Kara had gone to bed, belly full of twelve drumsticks, eleven pickled peppers, ten cups of hot chocolate, nine hams glazed, eight glasses of milk, seven strudel pastries, six white chocolate goose eggs, five onion rings, four carrot cakes, three French bagels, two turtle chocolates, and a chocolate pecan pie, she curled up on her elf sized bed. Eliza had knit a fourth blanket onto her elf quilt the previous month when her toes started peeking out at the bottom. Alex had tucked her in tonight, making certain she was snug as a bug in a rug in the tiny bed, wishing sweet dreams of sugarplums dancing in her head.

She was content, happy, home and tomorrow would be her thirteenth birthday at the North Pole. What more could her life possibly be, what could be more rewarding than being apart of the magic that brought Christmas to children all over the world? And still Kara thought of that world and all of the little lights that wrote those letters to Santa, the gleaming eyes of all who opened presents on Christmas morning, and she wondered if any of them were like her. If they could hear the faintest sounds of snow falling or reach up and touch the clouds. If they could roast chestnuts with their eyes or see through all those pretty presents wrapped neatly under the tree. If the people of this world could believe that Santa would come every year to bring them gifts, then she had to believe that somewhere out there, there was someone else who was just like her.

That night Kara dreamed of a beautiful red sunset and little baby boy named Kal. It all felt so real, seeing him jet across the sky in a similar pod to the one Kara had found in an abandoned workshop years ago, knowing it must have been how she found her home. She wrote a letter to Santa as soon as she woke up, asking him to find a home for Kal for Christmas.

_____

Kara had been in trouble a bit, always an accident, because really how was it her fault if Blitzen couldn’t keep up with her? He could have flown faster if he hadn’t eaten all of that maple syrup and maybe then he wouldn’t have been left behind! She carried him back the whole way anyway! After she found him three days later in the Swiss Alps.

But this time when she was called to Santa’s office and Eliza and Alex sat patiently waiting for the charges from the big boss, Kara didn’t know why she was here at all, or rather, now she was on the floor with wood debris around her rear because the little chair was a lot lower than she had anticipated. That was the tenth one this month.

Santa cleared his throat and rubbed his white bearded chin, “I read your letter, and I spoke to your mom and sister. I think they have something they’d like to tell you.”

Kara widened her eyes and looked to her mom, “Are we going to adopt Kal? Like you adopted me? Please say we can Eliza. I promise I’ll teach him myself how to control his powers, and I can build him a crib myself. I’ll even chop down the tree for the wood and we can,”

Eliza cupped Kara’s face and kissed her forehead, a tear prickling at the corner of her eye, “Do you remember Kal now sweetie? Do you remember Krypton?”

Kara blew out her breath in bewilderment, “Krypton? What’s that? Is that where I’m from? Is it in Canada? I’ve always felt I was probably a Canadian because I don’t get cold at the North Pole, and I make the best maple syrup every year during the elf Christmas party.”

Santa nodded, “Its true, you really do.”

Alex gasped, “you know you’re not an elf?”

Kara chewed at her fingernails, “Well I’m not, am I? I’m bigger than all of you and I can lift a Christmas tree over my head like it’s mistletoe and fly with reindeer and all sorts of stuff. I’ve known for awhile I’m not from here, but this is still my home. You two are still my family.”

Alex held back all her unshed tears, “But you have other family out there, and we can’t keep you from knowing about Kal anymore.”

So that day Kara cried when Santa showed her the picture of Kal, or Clark Kent as he was called on Earth, glasses askew and a beautiful woman on his arm. Clark without the glasses bearing what she was told was her family crest, the House of El, taking up the mantle of Earth’s greatest hero, Superman. She had crafted thousands of figurines of her only living blood relative, and yet she hadn’t the faintest idea that she had been sent to protect him for all of these years. He had grown up, not alone at least. He was raised in Kansas on a farm, and now he lived in Metropolis with his wife Lois Lane and their son Jonathan Kent.

“Does he even know I exist?”

_____

Kara changed into her best elf attire and her bright red boots that Eliza had made her for Christmas, letting her open one present before she left. Today was the day that she would fly to Metropolis and meet her cousin for the first time. She couldn’t wait, but the dread at leaving Alex and Eliza settled deep in the pit of her stomach. And all of the letters to Santa she still wanted to respond to sat neatly at her desk in her room.

She was leaving behind her entire life at the North Pole. She told herself she wasn’t losing her home, but it still felt like it. Santa’s workshop, Eliza and Alex, it was all she had ever known or could remember. Would it be the same when she came back? Would her room still smell like a gingerbread house and would her stocking still hang by their chimney with care? Would Kal come with her or would she split her time between Kal and Alex and Eliza like some children who get double presents when their parents divorce?

Alex knocked on her door and waltzed in, “Hey Kara, mom made you something to take to Kal. There’s a winter storm over Greenland, you should probably get going soon.”

Kara wiped the tears from her eyes and her sister rushed to hug her. She had to bend down a little and lift Alex off the ground, but no way was she leaving without giving her sister a proper hug.

“I’m going to miss you and mom so much, Alex. I’ve never been away from home for more than a few hours, how am I going to make it to Christmas without you both? Will you even still want me back?”

Alex nuzzled closer, “You better come back because I don’t want to imagine this place without you. Who’s going to lift the fridge so mom can sweep under it hmm? Who’s going to change all of the light bulbs in the workshop when they blow out? Who’s going to drink hot chocolate with me and watch Hallmark movies in July?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head and deposited Alex on the floor, “I thought you hated the Hallmark channel.”

Alex simply rolled her eyes, “But I love spending time with my sister, and I love you, you big sap. I swore I wasn’t going to cry.”

Feeling slightly better Kara shoves her sister’s shoulder, a little too hard and catches her before she falls, “I love you too, dork. Don’t open the present I got you until you get back, pinky swear?”

Alex locks pinkies with Kara and kisses her thumb, “I’ll miss you. Please be safe. No breaking the sound barrier, watch out for pigeons because there’s a lot in Metropolis or so I’ve read. And when you see Kal remember to call him Clark Kent.”

“Got it, and don’t eat anything I don’t buy myself or anything not given to me by Clark, Lois, or Jonathan because there’s a high chance it’s not candy.”

Kara hugged Eliza for thirty minutes after that, and then Alex for another ten minutes before waving goodbye to Santa and all of the elves at his workshop. Metropolis wasn’t so far for her to fly, and she’d be home in no time.

She coasted through the peppermint sparkled glaciers, touched the northern lights, sailed through the skies above the Arctic Ocean, grazed the top of the Daily Planet, and landed atop the small two bedroom apartment building on the rent controlled side of town. Inside the windows of the corner apartment on the top floor, Kara saw Kal with his family, lighting candles, looking happy and calm. She decided to wait until morning to meet Kal, Clark, alone.

She listened into the city around her, all of the heartbeats like a million tiny hammers beating together, all except one. Kara flew the city, pinpointing the sound, admiring all of the lights on all the trees in all of the buildings and all the shining multicolored bulbs lining the streets. And it was there, in the tallest tower of the tallest building, one light shone through the wall to wall window, a small desk lamp in the large office. At the desk a woman with jet black hair and skin as white and fair as snow sat, typing away at her computer, nibbling on the pen in her mouth. She strained her long elegant neck, and stretched her arms above her head before getting back to work.

Kara glanced below the balcony to the street corner, finding what she knew the young woman needed. She floated down to the alley and walked into a coffee shop, took some time figuring out how to pay for a cup of coffee with the paper and coin money that Santa had given her before she left. Smiled and thanked the cashier for helping her, put one of the bills in his tip jar (it was a hundred.) She quickly flew into the woman’s office, left the coffee on her desk, and flew out of sight, feeling a little like Santa herself in the moment.

The woman grabbed the coffee absentmindedly and sipped, not expecting it to be so hot Kara sees her fanning her mouth and frantically searching the room with her eyes. When she turns to peer out her balcony, Kara sees her face, hard jaw line, soft endearing green eyes. She smiles as the woman screams and locks her balcony door as the windows go pitch black.

[clevercatchphrase]

2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

 Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

 Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

 Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

 Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

 Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

 The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

 To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

 Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

 Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

 Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

 And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

 Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

 ON TO 2021!

 I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

 Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

 Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

 1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

 2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

 3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

 4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

 5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

 6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

 7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

 8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

 9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

 11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

 Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

 Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

 For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

 I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

 Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

 I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

 I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

 Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

 I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

 I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

 I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

 Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

 Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

 Good night.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.6

Summary: Fleeing their old lives in New York, Bucky and Becca find new possibilities in their new hometown. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warning: None, just lots of plot in this one.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This chapter is pretty dense but it was needed to keep the plot moving forward. I personally love the domesticity of it, and I hope you do too. 

Chapter Six

Blending in amongst a sea of tired passengers proves easier than Bucky expected. Becca is fast asleep, a warm and comforting weight in his arms. He’s grateful they’re the only ones in their train compartment so he has room to throw his bags on one seat and stretch out on the others. It’s a long ride, just over five hours, and he manages to catch a few cat naps here and there. Becca wakes up as the train comes to a stop, looking around confused and a little startled.

“Hey sweet girl, take a minute.” he says quietly, rubbing a hand along her back soothingly. 

“Where are we?” she asks, looking around.

“We’re on a train, it just stopped in Boston. This is where we’re getting off. I promise you I’ll explain everything once we’re on the next train but I need you to do two things for me, okay?” he waits until she nods before continuing, “Okay, good. I need you to stay real close to me and don’t use our names. Can you do that?” 

Becca scrunches her nose in a confused expression Bucky knows she gets from him. “Okay?” 

“We’ll be on the next train soon, promise. Just be a big girl and hang on ‘til we get there.” The attendant comes through to let them know they can exit the train and Bucky stands up to once again juggle a sleepy four year old and two duffel bags. Becca is thankfully more cooperative now that she’s awake, holding onto him and making the whole ordeal much easier. They have just enough time to use the bathrooms and buy some snacks and a picture book on Boston to keep Becca occupied on the next leg of their trip. 

On their next train, from Boston to Portland, Bucky finds they once again have a whole compartment to themselves. He wonders how Natasha manages to pull off this kind of stuff but figures it’s better not to think too hard on it. Becca is happily munching through a pack of teddy grahams while Bucky gets them settled in. Not a great breakfast, but it’ll tide them over until they get to Maine. He cracks open his can of cold brew coffee and tears into his own pack of teddy grahams. Kid snack or not, they’re freaking delicious. 

“Bu... uh…” Becca starts to say his name but catches herself. 

“Good girl, bug.” praises the little girl. “What’s up?”

Becca looks around unsure before quietly asking, “Why can’t we use our names?” 

It’s a simple question, one he knew was going to come up sooner rather than later, and he’d spent a good portion of the first train ride figuring out how he’d explain this to her. “Well, those aren’t our names anymore.” he starts simply. 

“What? Why?”

“Because we’re moving far away where those bad guys from yesterday can’t find us. I need to keep us safe and this is the way it needs to happen. New names, new apartment, new school, new everything. It’s going to be really nice and I promise you’ll love where we’re going.” He hopes.

Tears well for a moment, “What about Auntie Nat and Uncle Clint and Steve?” 

“They’re staying in New York but we’ll still talk to Auntie Nat sometimes, okay?”

“What about Steve? You liked him. I liked him. Why can’t he come?” 

Bucky sighs, he won’t throw Steve under the bus for this. “Steve has a really important job in New York so he needs to stay there.” 

“I’m gonna miss home.” Becca grumbles sadly. Bucky pulls her onto his lap to hold her close.

“I know, I am too. But we’re gonna have a great new home. Want to know your new name?” he tries for a distraction. 

“Sure!” Becca takes the bait. 

“Your name is Elena Stan. My name is Sebastian Stan.” 

“Seb-bast-tan?” Becca tries his name out slowly.

“Close enough. But you know how you asked if you could call me daddy when you were little?” 

Becca nods. That had been a rough phase for both of them. She had wanted to call him daddy so badly but it had made him uncomfortable at the time so he insisted she call him by his name. 

“Well, now you can. In our new lives Sebastian is Elena’s daddy.”  Part of him still dislikes that the effort he put into making sure Becca knows her own identity has flown out the window overnight. When she gets older he hopes she’ll understand why he’s doing this. “It’s gonna be hard to remember at first, but we’ll get used to it.” 

“Okay.” Becca shrugs and goes back to her snack, her curiosity sated for the time being. 

Bucky settles in, starting to feel the weight of the previous day pressing down on him. He prays the coffee kicks in soon so he’s not a zombie by the time they get where they’re going. Becca seems happy enough keeping herself occupied with her new book and he makes plans to buy a few toys once they get to the next stop. Just a few things that will keep her busy at their new place so he can catch a quick nap. He doesn’t know what their financial situation is but he can’t imagine Natasha wouldn’t have moved over his money for him. There had been two hundred in cash in the wallet so that will at least tide them over until he can check the card balances. He’s lucky Becca is an easy kid and he just hopes that she’ll take this all in stride like she does most things. And if not, well she’s a four year old, distractions and redirections still work at this age thankfully. 

The second train ride is half the time of the first but Bucky is starting to feel worn out and grimy. The last leg of their trip is a twenty minute bus ride from Portland to Cape Elizabeth and once again they have just enough time to use the bathroom and hit up a train station gift shop. He buys a plastic tea set, a stuffed ladybug, and breakfast sandwiches before they have to race over to catch their bus. Becca is more awake now and she’s keeping up on her own, hugging the ladybug for dear life while she settles into their bus seats. 

Maine is different than Bucky expected, colder sure, but the water even looks different than back in New York even though both places connect to the Atlantic Ocean. There’s something about the clear, turbulent water that seems more powerful and deeply elemental than the easy going tides back in Brooklyn. Bucky’s captivated watching the ocean out the bus window while the old Greyhound travels down the coastal highway. After two long train rides, the bus ride feels like it’s over in a blink of an eye. The bus stop they’re let out at is small, barely more than a little hut alongside the road outside of town. 

Becca is full of wide eyed curiosity as they make their way into town. Bucky has the address of the apartment, but with no clue of the little town’s set up it’s not very useful. He misses his phone and being able to GPS his way around. It’s a few minutes later that he remembers the phone in the package Natasha gave him. He’d forgotten about it in his sleep deprived state, having stashed it in his bag since he wasn’t able to use it until after the first leg of the trip. Booting up the sleek red iPhone, Bucky’s relieved to see it has a full charge and it finds a GPS signal quickly. The apartment is only a fifteen minute walk away at that point and Bucky happily tells Becca they’ll be home soon. She nods but she’s clearly distracted by her new surroundings. 

The little seaside town is quaint and reminds Bucky of something out of a movie. Small brick and glass fronted shops line the town’s main street, brightly colored banners and awnings announcing the businesses inside. There are a lot of artisan shops and Bucky finds himself looking forward to exploring the town more when they have time. The first priority though is getting settled in. Becca is tired and starting to whine a little by the time they turn onto their street. It’s as picturesque as the rest of town, tree lined sidewalks and charming old brick homes. Finding their house number, Bucky pauses outside, not entirely sure how to proceed. Natasha hadn’t given him a key, just an address. He’s still standing there, thinking out his next moves when an older woman pops her head out the front door. 

“Are you Sebastian?” the woman calls out with a smile. 

“Yes, I am.” Bucky replies easily, the new name less foreign than he had expected it to feel. 

“I’m Anne, from the emails. You two made good time getting up here. Come on in and I’ll get you set up.” The woman stands back from the doorway letting them through and Bucky is thankful Natasha set things up so thoroughly for them. 

Anne, as it turns out, grew up in the large Victorian style home before she and her sisters renovated it back in the 70s and turned it into apartments. She still lives in the bottom floor apartment but rents out the second and third floors now that her sisters both passed on. She’s chatty and grandmotherly, doting on Becca by plying the little girl with blueberry cake. Becca doesn’t bat an eye at being called Elena and Bucky couldn’t be more proud of his girl. 

“You both must be exhausted from the trip.” Anne says after Bucky has finished signing all the paperwork for the apartment. “If you need anything, I’m here. Like I said in the email, it’s fully furnished but if you would rather bring in your own things just let me know and I’ll move the existing pieces into storage. It’ll at least get you started though.” 

Bucky stifles his yawn but nods, “Yeah, I think we’re both due for a nap. I’m sure what’s there is fine, we’re not super picky.” 

Anne gives him a smile and shows him outside to the stairs that lead up to his apartment. Bucky thanks her again and makes his way up the narrow wooden stairs. After the long trip and lack of sleep the stairs feel like Everest and a grumbling Becca clearly agrees. The door is cheerfully decorated with a sunflower wreath and the apartment inside is instantly welcoming. The living room has a little tile entryway where they shuck off their shoes before padding across the fluffy beige carpeting. The dining room is off to one side after the hallway, connecting to the kitchen which is brightly decorated in white and yellow. The hallway leads to two bedrooms, and a bathroom decorated with beautiful tiles reminiscent of mermaid scales. Becca falls in love immediately and begs Bucky for a bath. He promises her one that night once they can buy soap and things at the store which seems to appease her for the moment. The bedrooms are both decorated in the same neutral colors as the rest of the house and Bucky thinks it’ll be easy to add a few homey touches to the place to make it feel more like theirs. 

Becca throws herself on the twin size bed in the first bedroom announcing it’s the best big girl bed ever. Though she slept well and hasn’t needed a nap in ages, she agrees to lay down for a little while to rest. There’s a small play table and dresser off to the side and Bucky sets her new toys down on the table. He makes Becca promise to come get him right next door if she needs him and gives her a coloring book and box of crayons if she’d rather draw quietly too. Seeing her favorite coloring book from home cheers her up a bit but she still burrows happily under the fluffy comforter. Bucky gives her a quick kiss and heads over to his room at the end of the hall. It’s larger than his bedroom back in Brooklyn and the bed is larger too. He’d been fine with his old full sized mattress but seeing the king sized behemoth has him throwing himself on the bed much like Becca had done in hers. Bucky lets out a groan, this is a real adult bed. The grey duvet is impossibly soft and fluffy and the mattress itself lets him sink into it, unlike the spring mattress he was used to. Bucky is in love with the bed and allows himself a few happy moments to roll around in it. 

Eventually, needing to be responsible, Bucky gets up to change out of his clothes and shed the grime and stress from the past day away. He grabs the phone and takes a picture of the bed with it’s now rumpled comforter and shoots an Instagram message to Natalie with the caption “Now THIS is a bed”. 

Bucky sets the phone down on the nightstand and takes a minute to enjoy the view from the bedroom window. The view is so different from New York and he knows it’ll take some getting used to. The phone chirps an unfamiliar noise and Bucky sees that Natasha responded already. “Jealous! Enjoy your nap. TTYL.” 

Bucky sends back a heart emoji and then sets the phone on the nightstand so he can crawl under the covers into his new bed. It’s been a long 24 hours but at least the hardest part is behind him. 

What was meant to be a short nap turns into three hours of Bucky being dead to the world. He wakes up a little after noon to find Becca coloring happily at her play table. She also figured out how to use the remote for the little TV on top of her dresser and turned on the Disney channel quietly in the background. Bucky shakes his head, the little girl is too smart for her own good. “Hey bug.” he calls from the doorway. 

“Hi!” Becca’s whole face lights up when she sees him, “Wanna see what I colored?” She holds up her book and Bucky joins her at the tiny table. She couldn’t have been up for very long, she’s only gotten halfway through one Cinderella picture so far, which she proudly shows him she only colored outside the lines once. 

Bucky lets her get back to her artwork and wanders down the hall to explore the apartment more. It’s crazy to him that for a third of the rent of his apartment in Brooklyn he has more than twice as much space here. There’s even a backyard down below with a patio area and a fire pit. The apartment has tall, wide windows in every room which let in ample natural light through gauzy curtains. Bucky looks out the kitchen window down at the backyard and wonders what Becca will think of making s’mores. He finds a shopping list note pad and pen on the fridge and starts making a list of things they’ll need to pick up at the store. The kitchen is fully stocked with plates, cups, pots and pans, and miscellaneous cooking and baking supplies. It makes Bucky look forward to whipping up meals, no longer having to rely on the cramped little kitchen with a temperamental stove they had in their old place. The appliances are all shiny steel and new looking, the flat top stove making Bucky grin from ear to ear. 

Sitting in the corner of one counter top is a french press with a bag of local coffee and a wrapped loaf of blueberry cake. There’s a little welcome card next to the treats and Bucky plans to thank Anne again when he asks for directions to the grocery store. He wanders down the hall, adding toiletries to the shopping list as well as laundry detergent and dryer sheets when he discovers the hallway closet houses a stacked washer / dryer unit. There isn’t a whole lot more that they’ll need for the time being and Bucky figures if he budgets correctly he should be able to keep them afloat for a little while until he can get a steady paycheck again. That is if Natasha moved all of his money over for him. 

Bucky frowns, suddenly worrying that he’s making plans without even checking their financial state. He retrieves his phone and flicks through the screens until he finds a banking app that matches the debit card in his wallet. The app loads and brings him to a home screen that displays four different accounts. Bucky’s head is swimming as he looks at the accounts and numbers. Checking, Savings, College Fund, Car Fund. The college fund has enough to set Becca up at a decent state school or even private school if she can get scholarships. The car fund has enough for a low end new car or nicer used model. Savings has four times what he’d had in savings back home and the checking account contains about what he’d had in savings. Where in the hell did Natasha get all that money?! 

Hopping into Instagram, Bucky fires off a message to Natasha loaded with shocked emojis and exclamation points. “I can’t accept all this.” Is the second message. 

The three little ellipses pop up almost immediately. “You can, and will. Happy housewarming.” 

Bucky frowns and types out, “Where did it come from?” 

“Let’s just say some less than savory sources who won’t even miss it.” Natasha sends back.

The frown on Bucky’s face deepens. He wonders how deep Natasha has gotten herself into with this mystery life she’s apparently been leading. He hopes she knows what she’s doing. “I guess I just have to say thanks and trust you.” he finally replies.

Natasha sends back a few grinning emojis and a kiss. 

It’s not ideal but Bucky can’t exactly return the money at this point. And living in a more rural area he’ll need a car sooner rather than later. He hasn’t driven in years but it should be just like riding a bike, not something you ever really forget. They still have a full day ahead of them and grocery shopping without a car to haul it all back is going to suck, so Bucky decides that lunch and car shopping can be their first stops. 

“Hey Bec… uh….bug.” Bucky quickly corrects himself. 

Becca giggles at his slip up. “Yes daddy?” she asks in her sweetest tone, emphasizing that she didn’t slip. 

“How about we go find some place for lunch and then run errands?” 

“Lunch out?!”

“Yep, lunch out at a restaurant. Come on, let’s go ask Miss Anne where the good food is.” 

Becca flies out of her room to put on her shoes, getting both on before Bucky’s even gotten his first boot tied. He scolds her lightly as she bounds down the stairs, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a little girl. 

It’s loud enough that Anne comes to the window of her living room to greet them. “All rested up?”

“Much better, yes. Thank you for the cake and coffee, that was really nice.” Bucky says as he tries to keep Becca close despite her best efforts to keep going. “Would you by chance be able to give me some pointers for places to go around here? We need to run errands.” 

“Of course, it depends on what you need though.” 

“Well, lunch to start. And a car. Then groceries and some basic necessities.” 

Anne thinks a moment, “Go down two blocks and make a left, head for the docks. There’s a diner called Jerry’s. Everyone loves it there. For a car your best bet is to catch a taxi over to All Star Service. It’s on the other end of town. Mark takes good care of the cars and he’ll get you set up nicely. If you get a car, or can catch another taxi, head over to the strip mall near there. It’s called Oakwood Plaza and they have a grocery store and a few other little shops where you can find everything you’d need. Otherwise you’ll have to head out of town to the Target over in South Portland.”

Buck is frantically writing all of her advice down on the back of his shopping list, not having expected such a wealth of information but immensely grateful for it. “Thank you, really. It’s going to take a bit for us to get used to where everything’s at.” 

“Not a problem, dear. You’ll get acclimated in no time, I’m sure.” 

Bucky thanks her again and then finally lets Becca lead him down the sidewalk. He lets her go ahead, a happy bounce in her step, giving her directions when they need to make a turn. The diner comes into view a short distance later and Bucky hopes they end up liking the place since it’s so close by. 

A waitress seats them right away in a faded red and white booth. Becca is looking around at the retro decor like she can’t see it all fast enough. Bucky makes small talk with the waitress once she discovers they’re new to town, following her recommendation on some local fare. She doesn’t steer them wrong and both Bucky and Becca are thrilled with their lunches. 

“I like it here a LOT.” Becca announces, setting her spoon down into her empty bowl of baked beans. The little dish had been full of beans and cut up hot dogs which had made Becca’s day for some reason. Bucky wasn’t going to question it, it was a hit. His own chowder and Italian sandwich were both delicious and he already plans to come back and try the lobster roll another day. Maybe they can make weekly trips together now that they won’t be scraping by quite as hard as they were. 

Bucky mentions needing a car to the waitress and she recommends the same place Anne had, so he pays for a taxi ride across town to see if he can find something. He doesn’t really care too much what he gets as long as it’s reliable and within his budget. Becca doesn’t seem to understand why on earth he needs a car despite him explaining a few times it’s different here than living in a big city. The taxi driver has a good chuckle and offers to wait if they want, just in case they don’t find anything. Bucky thanks the man and tells him he’ll be back in a few minutes to let him know one way or another. 

The lot isn’t huge and Bucky moves through the few dozen cars pretty quickly. A dark green Jeep catches his eye and he can’t help but be drawn to it. It was his dream car when he was a teenager. It’s not a difficult decision. The Jeep is only five years old, the mileage is pretty low, and best of all the price leaves a few thousand in that savings account once it’s all said and done. Bucky doesn’t need to think it over so he lets the taxi driver know they’ll be fine and heads off to find the shop owner. He finds the man, Mark, under the hood of an old beat up pick up truck covered in oil but with a wide smile on his face. A quick test drive and a few forms later, Bucky is the proud owner of his first car. It’s a far cry from driving around his parent’s beat up old Lincoln Continental when he was a teenager. Becca is thrilled at the idea and is barely able to sit still as Bucky secures her in the back seat. He realizes his next stop has to be for a car seat, the last thing he needs is to have his new ID tested out by the Cape Elizabeth police.

The strip mall is barely a mile down from the auto shop and thankfully has a thrift shop at the end opposite the grocery store. It’s a huge shop run by the local church and has everything from clothes, to home goods, and toys. Bucky picks up a few new outfits for each of them and finds a gently used booster seat as well. Impulsively he throws in a few toys and books for Becca and some candles and house decorations. With that taken care of, he runs an overly excited Becca through the grocery store, not even bothering to protest when she makes a few special requests. Bucky can’t get over how inexpensive the prices are compared to the city, especially the seafood. He takes note of prices, wanting to be able to budget out their shopping the next time. It’s nice to be able to just shop for what they want for a change, but old habits die hard and he can’t just do that every time. 

It’s late afternoon when they get back, arms loaded with bags. Becca insists on carrying some bags upstairs herself and together they get it all in three trips. Bucky lets Becca run off to her room to set up her new toys while he puts away the groceries and sets up the few house decorations he bought. There’s something extremely soothing about getting everything set up to look like a real home. Their home. It’s far nicer than the little apartment they shared in the city and for a bleak moment Bucky wonders if staying in the city after he adopted Becca had been the right call. He pushes the thought out of his head as quickly as it arises, shoving the laundry in the dryer with a little more force than necessary. He had done his best for the both of them, and he would have never managed to get his nursing career started without having Natasha and Clint around to help with childcare. 

By dinner time both he and Becca are worn out but they’re fully moved in and the apartment is even starting to feel more homey. Despite his better judgment, Bucky orders them a pizza for dinner. Becca is shocked and Bucky assures her this won’t be an everyday occurrence. They curl up together on the plush sofa after dinner, finding an old movie to watch together until Becca is sleeping peacefully nestled against Bucky’s side. He picks up the little girl, toting her off into her own bed. The room is perfect for her, but Bucky thinks he might want to get her a new bedding set for her birthday in a few months. One that suits her better like the ladybug print one she had in Brooklyn. 

Falling into his own, frankly amazing, bed, Bucky wonders how long this adjustment period is going to last. Surely they’ll hit some stumbling blocks as they go, but he hopes they both adapt to their new lives quickly. He wants to just jump forward to the point where their new lives here in Cape Elizabeth feel natural to them as their lives before. He thinks he’ll always miss his name just a little bit, but he can learn to adjust if it means a better, safer, life for Becca. There are certainly a lot of perks to living in a small town even if he’s going to miss his friends desperately. It’s only Steve that he can’t bring himself to think about. The pain is too fresh, too raw. Bucky thinks he could have loved Steve, if he hadn’t already been completely in love with the man already. He’s certain the gripping heartache he feels when he thinks of Steve is being felt by the other man as well. Sleep eludes Bucky until close to midnight, his mind busy between making plans to set up their new lives and trying not to dwell on the too painful thoughts of what they’ve left behind. Despite his best efforts it’s Steve that’s on his mind when he finally drifts off to a restless sleep.

[aelowan]

Special Delivery – A Books of Binding Short Story

Cian woke in the dark to an urgent rapping on his bedroom door. Winter’s low voice carried through the wood. “Cian, we’re on.”

Cian sat up in bed, trying to parse that. On? On what? English wasn’t his first language and sometimes idioms — he hoped it was an idiom — tripped him up. He pulled his jeans on and made his groggy way across the spacious room to find Winter on the other side of his door, dressed in her usual loose dress and cardigan, her purple bag over her shoulder and her surgical bag heavy in her hand. She hadn’t taken the time to put her hip-length white hair up in a bun, and it rode one shoulder in a careless braid.

She was lovely.

He pushed his own long, sleep-tousled hair out of his face. “What are we on?”

A small, exhausted smile played about her lips, and he wanted to kiss her until the shadows under her ice-blue eyes faded away. “’On’ means it’s showtime,” she explained, not terribly effectively. What was a ‘showtime?’ “We have a delivery to attend. Corinne’s started bleeding heavily, and Doc says she can’t stop it.”

Cian’s brows shot to his hairline. The Lion Queen? Oh shit. “Is it the placenta previa? She’s five weeks early.” Which wasn’t too terribly early for a human or a vampire, but with a therian’s five-and-a-half-month gestation it could make things complicated.

Winter nodded. “Which means that either she got pregnant during an earlier heat than we thought, or the placenta’s started pulling away from her uterus, which I think is the more likely. Either way, I suspect we need to deliver the baby tonight. If she’s having contractions it will tear the placenta apart, leading to hemorrhaging. Now, you get dressed, and I’ll wake up Etienne so he can drive you out to Xanadu on the motorcycle. I need you at the top of your game, and making you ride with me in the Bug with its old steel chassis won’t help with that.” She sighed. “I really do need a new car.”

Cian shuddered at the thought of riding in the Bug. He’d ridden in more than one older model vehicle and gotten sick in the process. He was sidhe, though, and not a lesser fae, so sick was the extent of it. A lesser fae might come away with more serious injury or even death. The little pixies in the gardens here on the Point avoided Winter’s vintage car at all costs. “Yeah, a new one would be good. Maybe we can go shopping for one this weekend?”

Winter gave him a tired smile, but tired as she was it still reached her eyes. Cian couldn’t have said that only a few weeks ago. “Yes, maybe.” She checked the time on her phone. “We need to head out as soon as possible. Doc is perfectly capable of performing a c-section if she needs to, but I’d rather be there in case things get complicated. I’ll meet you in the foyer in five minutes.”

Cian shut the door as Winter moved toward Etienne’s room and turned to get ready. It was just the three of them rattling around in this huge house, where once there had been dozens of wizards, all part of the extensive Mulcahy family. He could tell that Winter liked having the company, and he liked it, too. So did Etienne.

Long hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, worn boots and a new sweatshirt against the mid-November chill, his silk-lined riding chaps to protect him from the Harley’s frame, and he was ready to ride as soon as he got his helmet and riding jacket together. Worry for Corinne dueled with excitement. This would be his first time attending a birth. He’d assisted Winter with several surgeries already, but Corinne was the community member closest to delivering and currently the highest-risk pregnancy. She was also one of Winter’s closest friends, and Winter said she felt better knowing he would be backing her up with his healing gift. Cian was happy to help.

Etienne was still putting his auburn hair up into a ponytail in the high style he preferred as he hit the stairs and nodded to Cian. “Get your things. It’s going to be a cold ride, even for you.” His red plaid overshirt was slung about his neck and the new black gun rig for his old Glock jostled lightly against his chest with each stairstep he took.

Cian stood at the bottom of the double staircase beside Winter and watched the faerie knight descend, his bootheels thudding softly on each wide tread. He waved a hand indicating the Glock under Etienne’s left arm. “Expecting trouble?”

Etienne smirked and pulled on the overshirt as he touched down from the last step. “Always. This is Seahaven, after all.”

Winter shook her head and offered a rueful smile but didn’t disagree. “I’ve got the car loaded and ready to go. Be careful out there. The roads might be a bit slick after that rain.”

Etienne’s smile stretched into a rake-hell grin and Cian felt his belly flop. By Dagda, Etienne had a sexy smile. “A little rain isn’t going to stop us. Now, let’s go help Corinne.”

Cian handed Etienne his helmet and his old worn leather coat before getting into his own, new, silk lined coat. Winter’d had it made for him when she’d noticed he was showing about an inch of wrist below the cuff of his old one.

Winter hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder, determination showing in her eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The rain had subsided to a sprinkle, which did nothing for making the ride out to Xanadu any safer. Etienne sat a little higher in his seat, vigilant, and managed to avoid most of the puddles.

Most.

Cian tried to ignore his cold, wet boots as the three of them pulled into the covered Xanadu employee parking lot, Winter leading the way in her yellow Bug. They were met at the back entrance to the primary hotel that crowned the largest island in the resort complex. Corinne owned all of the islands in Eriksson Bay, and employed both the dolphins and the selkies as well as her entire large pride of lions. Scores of humans worked in the park, too, but they were offered only limited access. No need for some curious teenager to die just because they got a peek behind the Veil of Secrecy.

Santiago, Corinne’s husband, mate, and Chief of Security, waved as they approached the private elevator. Worry etched deep lines into his brow, cutting into his light brown skin. Cian noticed that he’d shaved his head, but it was already showing fine stubble with the force of his therian regeneration. “Winter, thank god you’re here.” His English was flavored with rich Cuban Spanish, as were most of the lions he had brought with him from Miami to merge with Corinne’s lioness-heavy pride.

Winter offered up a confident smile and gave the Lion King a quick hug. “It’ll be all right. I can get little Bella out in under a minute if I need to.”

Cian knew that Winter’d had to perform emergency c-sections in the past and knew what she was doing. Therian couldn’t get sick or infected, but they could develop conditions that put a pregnancy at risk, like Corinne’s placenta previa. Most therian lived on the edge of society, victims of poverty, abuse, and malnutrition. Pregnancy loss and high infant mortality were common.

But that wasn’t a concern with Corinne tonight. The Lion Queen led one of the biggest groups in Seahaven and was one of the most powerful and wealthiest therian on the West Coast.

Santiago ushered the three of them into the elevator and swiped his resort ID through the reader, granting them access to the private floors and the penthouse where the pride lived. “Doc says Corinne and the baby are both holding steady, even with the blood loss. She’s got both of them on monitors.”

Winter looked to Cian. “With heavy bleeding, what is keeping Corinne and Bella stable?”

Cian thought about that for a moment. “It’s Corinne. She’s strong enough that her healing ability is regenerating blood before she can lose too much, so Bella isn’t being stressed.” He paused. “Yet. There’s a limit to how long her body can heal itself and maintain the baby at the same time. She’s burning through an incredible amount of calories, and once she’s depleted, she’ll be vulnerable.”

Winter smiled her approval. “Excellent. You’re picking this up quickly.”

Etienne looked pleased but said nothing.

Santiago listened intently, tension singing across the backs of his hands, stress making his dark-eyed gaze intense. “But you can save her — save them — can’t you, Winter?”

Winter exuded confidence even as Cian could feel her exhaustion through the veil of his healing gift. “I’m here to fight. We’ll get Corinne through this.”

They exited the elevator one floor below the penthouse where Corinne and Santiago lived and travelled at a brisk pace past closed doors and the soft sounds of sleeping lions until Santiago pushed open a set of frosted glass doors at the end of the hall.

Doctor Gloria Park’s domain.

Glass, chrome, and bright lights, the small clinic and surgery suite gleamed like a shrine to modern medicine. Winter’s backroom clinic was smaller and homier — and a lot busier — but Cian could tell by the way she glanced around that Winter admired it and all of the shiny toys Doc had to play with.

Cian had to admit that he did, too.

“Doc, they’re here.” Santiago raised his voice just enough to be heard on the other side of the two frosted glass doors that bracketed the main room of the clinic.

Doc emerged from the door on the right, butting it open with a hip, her gloved hands marked by blood and ruddy betadine. A bloody streak smeared wet across her white coat at the waist, but she ignored it. She flashed a quick smile of greeting at the new arrivals, her slightly hooded eyes crinkling at the corners and tugging at her small epicanthal folds, her short, no-nonsense, black hair tucked beneath a surgery bonnet. “Excellent timing. I’m prepping Corinne now. How do you want to do this?”

Winter took her surgery bag from Etienne and began moving toward the surgery suite. “I think we should first administer my painkiller potion, and then once it kicks in, we can take a closer look.” She gestured to the blood on Doc’s coat and hands. “Is that all hers?” In any place other than Seahaven that might have been an odd question, but Cian was quickly learning that chaos seemed to reign above all, here.

Doc made a short shrugging gesture. “This time, yes. Contractions started about an hour ago.”

Winter nodded, all business. “Then we’ve got no time to waste. Santiago, do you want to come in and keep Corinne company?”

Santiago smiled, visibly relieved. “Si. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Etienne crossed his arms and leaned a hip against a table. “I’ll wait out here. Haven’t attended a birth in a while, but I bet it’s going to be crowded enough in there as it is.”

Winter flashed the faerie knight a warm smile of gratitude and pushed through the door, Cian close behind her, Doc and Santiago bringing up the rear.

The surgery suite was small, but airy and brightly lit. Corinne sat reclined in the center of the room, gravid belly painted a lurid yellow-red with betadine, long red hair tucked into a surgery bonnet to keep it out of the way, full lips looking pale. Even still, she was glamorous. She opened her eyes as they entered the room, and she smiled a tired smile. “Hey there.”

Winter returned the smile with one of her own as she pulled out a surgery bonnet for herself and passed another to Cian. “Ready to have a baby tonight?”

Corinne chuckled softly and reached out for Santiago’s hand as he reached her side. “You have no idea. But someday you will.”

Winter’s smile turned a bit wistful. “Maybe.” Cian wanted to hold her, just for a moment. He knew she expected to die young, like the rest of the Mulcahy line. She was the last.

Cian found a chair and brought it to Santiago so he could sit at Corinne’s head.

Santiago took the seat and stroked Corinne’s forehead. “Mi corazón.”

Winter tucked her long braid into the surgery bonnet and Cian followed suit. “This is going to go very fast. Your contractions tore the placenta and that’s what’s causing the bleeding. It’s still a total occlusion, still entirely blocking the cervix, as we saw on the ultrasound during your checkup last week.”

Corinne gave a single nod, exhaustion and worry etched into the corners of her eyes. “Did I do something wrong? She’s so early.”

Winter shook her head no and dug into her surgical bag. “Sometimes babies just come early. Nobody’s at fault.” She looked at the monitors showing both Corinne and the baby’s vitals and Cian followed her gaze. Both were holding steady so far. “But Bella’s at a good weight. She should be fine. And your strength is keeping her that way. But I still want to get her out with all speed. We need your bleeding to stop.” As she spoke, she pulled a tumbler from the bag, filled it with cool water, and added three drops of light blue potion, drops that never quite mixed in, instead swirling about like whisps of metallic smoke. “Here, drink all of this down as fast as you can.”

Corinne took the tumbler and knocked it back, then locked her jaw as her entire body shuddered. “Good lord, what was that?”

Winter retrieved the tumbler before it ended up on the floor. “Painkiller potion. It will last for a few hours. It also gives us the ability to go in after little Bella without you feeling any pain and without giving you enough human anesthetic to knock out the Fifth Fleet.” Cian knew from Winter’s explanations that therian could burn through human drugs at an alarming rate. Only magical solutions could withstand their incredible metabolisms.

Corinne shuddered one more time, and then leaned back with a sigh and closed her eyes. “Oh. Oh, that’s much better. Thank you.”

Winter gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Good. Now let’s meet your daughter and get that bleeding stopped.” She shrugged out of her sweater and pulled a couple of scrub tops out of the surgery bag, handing one over to Cian. “This is going to be pretty straight forward,” she began to explain, mostly to Cian. Doc already knew what she was doing. “Cian, I want you as tech on this so you can get as much experience as possible. You’ll suction the amniotic fluid out of our way, and I’d like you to use your touch healing to tack Corinne back together once we deliver the placenta, so she heals correctly. Corinne is strong enough that she’ll probably heal faster than I can suture her. Doc, if you can keep the incisions open long enough for me to go in and get the baby and the placenta, we can get her delivered in the next few minutes.”

Doc gave a thoughtful look at her queen’s belly and then to the monitors. “I think that’s reasonable. The bassinet’s already warming, so you can just plop the baby in there while you deliver the placenta and we get the bleeding stopped, and then as soon as the umbilical cord stops pulsing, we can cut it.” She cast a grin at Santiago, who was massaging Corinne’s temples. “Feel like cutting the cord?”

A smile spread across Santiago’s handsome face. “Si. I thought that was just a TV thing.”

Doc let out a soft chuckle. “No, it can be a dad thing, too. Bella’s welcome to the world.”

Winter handed Cian a clean absorbent pad, and he replaced the blood-soaked one beneath Corinne, tossing it into the operating room trash with the rest of them. He could only thank Dagda that she was a therian, and a queen. A human would be in dire straits by now.

Doc lifted an electrocautery scalpel from its tray, the steel glinting under the bright lights, a long wire stretching to the base of the machine beside her. “Ready when you are.”

Winter explored Corinne’s belly, feeling out the position of the baby within. “She’s breech, which is normal with placenta previa. First incision down here, across the lower abdomen, and then we very carefully cut into the uterus.”

Doc snorted. “Don’t teach me to suck eggs, kid.”

An amused smile tugged at Winter’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Cian, get ready with the suction, please.”

Cian flipped the machine on and held the wand at the ready, tucking himself against Corinne’s side opposite of Santiago so he could both reach and stay out of the way. He’d done this in surgery with Winter before. There had just never been a baby involved. It didn’t make him nervous, though. Winter had faith in him.

Winter shifted just a little to the side to give Doc more room. “All right, let’s do this.”

Doc spread her fingers across Corinne’s lower abdomen, her hands rock-steady, and made the first deft incision, a tiny whiff of smoke rising as she made the long cut, stopping bleeding before it could start, exposing the flesh of Corinne’s uterus. “Get the retractors ready,” Doc murmured to no one in particular.

Winter reached around her and picked up the two steel retractors, looking for all the world like salad tongs to Cian’s mind. He’d used them before, but the first impression was always the lasting one.

Doc carefully centered her scalpel and indicated a small band of muscle just to the side of her hand. “Pay attention to this, Cian.” Her voice was low with concentration. “Corinne is a lioness, and her uterus works a little differently than a human’s. Instead of basically just being nestled in place by the other abdominal structures, it’s held in place at two points, acting as shock absorbers. She’s built to hunt and fight while pregnant.” Doc shifted the position of her scalpel. “We don’t want to cut those, so we’re making a bit of a smaller incision instead.”

Cian nodded, absorbing the lesson. “Will the baby still fit through?”

Doc nodded. “It’ll just be a tighter squeeze, but she’ll be fine.” Doc deftly nicked the edges of the first incision, pushing against Corinne’s healing ability. “Cutting now.” She pierced the uterine wall without hesitation, drawing another long, bloodless, horizontal line across Corinne’s abdomen.

Immediately a tiny foot appeared, pressed against the intact, translucent amniotic sac. Winter smiled as she applied the retractors. “Very nice.”

Doc grinned. “It’s what we do. Ready to catch?”

Winter nodded. “Trade you.”

Doc and Winter traded tools in a dance born out of years of practice. Doc had been Winter’s primary teacher as she learned trauma surgery, after the death of her Aunt Curiosity.

Winter cut into the amniotic sac with a delicate touch, careful of the moving baby beneath. Cian shifted behind her, suctioning fluid as best he could, until Winter slipped her hands inside and began to ease the baby out.

Corinne’s eyes widened. “Oh, that feels weird. How does she look?”

Winter slipped a hand further into Corinne’s uterus, sloshing fluid over her wrists and onto the pad. “Well, all I see right now is her little butt, but her head is coming free… right… now.”

Corinne raised her head, eager for a peek. “Can I see her?”

Winter mopped the tiny baby’s face off with a pad that Cian handed her, suctioned her little nose and mouth, and held her where Corinne and Santiago could see just in time for Bella to raise her first vigorous objections to being pulled from her warm retreat. Winter beamed. “Look what you two did.”

Santiago’s eyes reddened with joy and he kissed Corinne’s cheek. “She has your hair, mi corazón.”

Corinne grinned, unable to take her eyes off the baby. “She’s beautiful. Just beautiful.”

“And messy.” Winter handed Bella off to Cian, who wrapped her in an absorbent pad and carried her to the cozy bassinet. She was so tiny, and so fierce. “Let me finish this with Doc and Cian’s help and then she’s all yours.”

***

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