#also a new leg because everything shes been doing with a partially melted leg sounds agonizing

[navyseal--t4t]

Stuck thinking about Jay down playing what she's going through and comparing it to what the rest of the party are dealing with, all while running around on an incredibly injured leg that she still hasn't told anyone about

[storiesforallfandoms]

the type you bring home to mom ~ eddie kaspbrak;it chapter two

word count: 2361

request?: no

description: in which he finally brings his girlfriend home to his over protective mother, and it goes exactly as he thought it would

pairing: teen!eddie kasprak x female!reader

warnings: swearing, overbearing mother, derogatory name calling (i guess?), basically eddie’s mom just sucking

masterlist (one, two)

note: (y/n/p) = your parents’ names

I played with the hem of my dress as I walked up to the Kaspbrak household. I was regretting my choice in wardrobe, but it was too late to change now. I knew nothing would feel right anyways, I had already changed three times before I came over.

For the first time in our year long relationship, I was meeting Eddie’s mother. We had somehow managed to keep our relationship a secret for so long that I never felt like I had to meet her, and Eddie wasn’t exactly pushing for it either. As much as he loved his mom, he also knew she was manipulative and overbearing, and he often told me how he was afraid of his mom scaring me off because of these facts.

When the news eventually got out and travelled quickly through the small town of Derry, as gossip usually does, it got to Ms. Kaspbrak in no time. She immediately demanded to meet me, and Eddie set up a dinner at his house for the occasion.

Before I could even knock on the door, it swung open to reveal my tall boyfriend smiling down at me. Any tension I had melted away as I looked up at him, into those beautiful eyes that could calm me down whenever they were on me. He took my face in his hands and pulled me to kiss him. It was such a normal action that, at first, I leaned into it happily, until I realized the circumstances of my visit and quickly pushed him away.

“She’s not here,” he said, as if reading my worried thoughts. “She’s gone out to get some stuff for dinner.”

He stepped aside to let me step into the house. It wasn’t unfamiliar territory; Eddie and I had had many rendezvous there during the rare moments when his mom wasn’t home, but it felt wrong to be there on this occasion. I just wanted it to end already, and to go home or go for a long drive with Eddie.

“Come, sit,” he said, leading me to his living room. We sat close to one another on the couch, so close that we were just barley touching. Feeling his arm brush against mine sent sparks through me.

“How worried should I be?” I asked him, trying to remain as light as possible.

He sighed and shuffled in his seat. “I wish I could tell you not at all, but...”

He trailed off so I finished his sentence for him, “But it’s your mom.”

Eddie nodded. “But it’s my mom.”

One of his arms was around my waist. I hadn’t realized that the skirt of my dress had hiked up a little until the hand around my waist started to play with the hem, his fingertips brushing against my ass. His other hand touched my leg, starting lightly on my knee and then slowly travelling up my thigh till it stopped on my inner thigh. I shivered, wanting him to go further.

Most people who knew him would never believe that Eddie Kaspbrak, the hypochondriac, fast talking, former sheltered mama’s boy, would be absolutely mind blowing in bed, and constantly handsy whenever we were alone. I hadn’t even believed it until we got together, but man, Eddie knew how to make me feel absolutely amazing.

He leaned forward to kiss my neck, his fingers tracing circles in my inner thigh. I was shivering with anticipation and whimpers were escaping my lips. I could feel Eddie’s amused smirk against my neck as he placed another kiss there and lifted his head to look at me. He kissed my lips and his hand finally made its way further up my skirt.

Our moment was interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming. I practically jumped to the other side of the couch, touching my neck in hopes that he hadn’t accidentally left hickies there.

“You’re good,” he said, understanding what I had been doing.

The front door opened and I suddenly felt paralyzed. I wasn’t sure if I should stand up or stay sat down, if I should move even further away from Eddie or stay exactly where I was. In the end, I stayed frozen like a deer in headlights as his mom rounded the corner, arms full of grocery bags.

“Oh,” she said when her eyes landed on me. “Is this...her?”

There was a slight leer to the way she said “her”, which made me want to squirm under her intense gaze.

“Mom,” Eddie said, a partial warning tone in his voice, “this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Kaspbrak,” I said. “Do you, um, need any help with - ”

“No,” she cut me off. “I have it. You’re early.”

“I told her this is when to get here,” Eddie defended. “You wouldn’t tell me exactly when to invite her over.”

“Well, this is hardly dinner time,” his mother huffed. “It’ll take me a while to get dinner ready.”

“I can help,” I offered again.

“No,” she said, sharply, which told me that was the end of the matter.

I shrunk down in my spot on the couch.

“Mom,” Eddie snapped again.

She glared at me before turning to her son, trying to soften her expression for him. “I’ll let you know when the food is ready. For now...stay here.”

When she disappeared into the kitchen, Eddie immediately moved to sit next to me and took my hand in his.

“I’m okay,” I assured him. “I’ll get through it. It’s just dinner then we’re done, right?”

He nodded, but I could see the worry on his face still.

A while later, Ms. Kaspbrak called to tell us dinner was ready. She had made sure to place everything so that Eddie and I were sat at the heads of the table, far apart from one another, while she was sat between us. Eddie and I shared a look before sitting in our designated spots.

Dinner started with awkward silence besides our cutlery against the plates. I tried to keep my attention on my plate, but every so often I’d glance up at the Kaspbraks to see Eddie nervously glancing between me and his mother, and his mom just glaring daggers at me. The nervousness I was feeling took away my appetite, but I felt like I had to eat everything to make a good impression, if that was even possible.

“So,” Ms. Kaspbrak said, drawing our attention to her, “(Y/N). Your parents are (Y/P/N), right?”

She already knew the answer to this question. I had grown up in Derry, where everyone knew everyone. There was a reason she was asking, and I had a feeling I already knew what that reason was.

“They are, yeah,” I responded.

“And they’re divorced, aren’t they?”

“Mom!” Eddie groaned.

“It’s just a question, Eddie,” his mom said.

“It’s okay,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t mind talking about it. That’s kind of old news anyways. They divorced when I was 10, dad moved to the next town over and mom got full custody of me.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very stable upbringing,” Ms. Kaspbrak commented. “I’m sure it’s taken such a toll on you, you must’ve decided to rebel somehow.”

Eddie put his face in his hands, officially admitting defeat on trying to stop his mother.

“Actually it wasn’t anything like that,” I said. “Mom and dad stayed pretty civil. There wasn’t any big fight or anything, just an agreement that they’re better off not being married. When dad moved he made sure to stay in constant contact, and comes to visit all the time or I’d go to visit him. Mom always made sure I had a roof over my head and food on the table. They both love me unconditionally, even if they’re not together.”

Ms. Kaspbrak sat back in her seat, a sour look on her face. “Well...regardless, it’s just not right to be raised by a single mother.”

Feeling a bit brave, I raised an eyebrow at her. “Eddie was raised by a single mother.”

“That’s different. My husband died, he didn’t decide to abandon me and Eddie.”

“My dad didn’t abandon us, he’s still very much a part of our lives.”

She ignored me and continued to eat. I looked across the table at Eddie to see him avoiding all eye contact with either of us as he pushed his food around on his plate. As if feeling my gaze, he looked up at me. I gave him a small smile to try and indicate that I wasn’t upset with him. I wanted him to know everything was going to be okay, even if I didn’t fully believe it myself.

“How many boys have you had sex with, (Y/N)?”

The question caught me off guard and I nearly choked on the food I had just put in my mouth.

“Jesus Christ, mom!” Eddie snapped.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vein, Edward,” his mother chastised him.

“You can’t just ask something like that, mom, that’s none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business. I need to make sure my son isn’t dating a slut. I remember you were friends with Beverly March before she moved away, and trust me, I heard all sorts of stories about her. Anyone who would hang around with her must be somewhat similar.”

The mention of the untrue bullshit that used to be spread about Bev made the anger within me bubble over. I was seeing red as I looked up at Ms. Kaspbrak, and I was ready to pounce.

“Actually, your son took my virginity, and I took his,” I told her. “And we have sex quite a lot, sometimes upstairs in his bedroom when you’re not home. Although, for someone who says he was a virgin I don’t know how much I believe it. Eddie has done things that I don’t even think the most experienced of people could do.”

If he was upset with me for saying all of this, Eddie’s face didn’t show it. He was sipping on his water, trying to hide the smug smile that broke out across his face.

Ms. Kaspbrak’s face turned blood red before she rose from the table. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Gladly,” I said, abandoning my dinner to quickly leave the shitty situation.

“And don’t you dare come anywhere near my son again, or else I will have the cops on you!” she threatened.

I stopped and turned back to face her. “For what? For dating your son? For showing him that there’s someone who actually cares about him without manipulating him? For finally cutting the cord that you’ve had wrapped around his neck since he was born? Ms. Kaspbrak, I understand that you’re afraid to lose your son the way you lost your husband, but being a manipulative bitch who forced him to think he had illnesses he didn’t have for years and insulting his girlfriend in front of him is not the way to keep him around. Eddie is 18 years old, he’s an adult. He can do whatever he wants, which includes dating whoever he wants and leaving this hell hole that you have the audacity to call a home. The day that you finally accept that just might be the day that Eddie finally considers you to be an actual mother.”

And with that, I decided not to overstay my welcome and left.

I was only a few feet away from Eddie’s house when I heard him calling after me. I slowed my pace just enough that he could catch up with me, but didn’t completely stop. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and the Kaspbrak house as I could.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed as he fell in step next to me.

“For what?” Eddie asked. “I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“You warned me on how she would be, and I still let her get to me,” I said. “I probably made having to live there a whole lot harder.”

“It was hard to begin with, (Y/N). Nothing could make it harder than what it was,” he told me. “What you said, it was all true. Mom needed to hear that. Doesn’t mean she liked hearing it, or that she’ll actually accept it, but she needed to hear it none the less.”

“I guess I could’ve said it nicer,” I said. “Or at least not included details of our sex life.”

Eddie awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, could’ve done without mom knowing I’m a sex god.”

I gave him a look and playfully nudged him. “I never said you were a sex god.”

“Eddie has done things that I don’t even think the most experienced of people could do I believe were your exact words.”

“I only said that to make her more upset.”

“So you’re saying I’m bad at sex?”

I pushed him again. “Eddie!”

He laughed and put an arm around my waist. “I appreciate the compliment either way. And I hope you know how much I love you.”

I smiled up at him and leaned into his touch. “I love you, too.”

We walked in silence for a while and, before I knew it, we were at my house. We stopped and turned to face each other.

“Want to stay over tonight?” I asked. “I figure going home isn’t exactly the best option right now.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “Will your mom be okay with it?”

“Of course she will, she loves you. She’ll probably even cover for you if your mom calls.”

“I take it back, I don’t love you. I love your mom.”

“And I take back my offer. Go sleep on the streets.”

I took off for my front door with Eddie hot on my trail. I tried to open it and lock him out before he caught up to me, but of course his long legs gave him an advantage. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me away from the door, both of our laughs ringing out through the otherwise quiet neighborhood.

[hualianff]

Found

Thinking about pack alpha HC whose territory is so far north, hardly any other packs visit or travel to it because the weather is unnaturally unbearable. Then, during one of the coldest nights of winter, a wolf and a pup wind up at the border, passed out from exhaustion. Neither of them bears a pack scent.

They are rogues.

It’s incredibly uncommon for rogues to venture into Crimson Moon territory, partially because it’s not easy to find within a massive forest and partially because HC’s reputation isn’t very forthcoming. The wolves who are granted permission to stay in the pack usually have important skills to contribute to help make it through the winter. Yet, despite his strict and distant demeanor, HC is fully dedicated to leading and taking care of his pack. 

Upon seeing the way the pup is nestled protectively under the adult wolf’s body, HX–the leader of the patrol squad–decides to shelter them for the night. He also provides warm soup and washing supplies for the weak rogues. The adult beta bows nonstop in gratitude before tending to his pup with unbridled affection. HX’s heart is somewhat more at peace, though he dreads having to ask HC what to do with them the next day.

***

XL has only heard of the Crimson Moon pack among hushed whispers in random caverns. Traveling for the past few years has not been easy, especially with a young wolf like Banyue. But when he had found her on the brink of starvation in a ditch on the side of the road, XL had promised to keep her safe above all things.

Now, XL carries the burden of his past along with the responsibility of raising BY. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. Thus, when XL finds him and his pup welcomed into the Crimson Moon pack by the courteous head alpha, XL gratefully prays to the heavens for letting him see another day.

Months pass. XL and BY live a much more comfortable life with guaranteed food, a heated home, and plenty of healthy social interaction. Additionally, they are never deprived of HC’s attention, the head alpha always making time to see them. 

XL doesn’t dare let himself hope for permanence. He’s faced so much rejection, disappointment, and betrayal in the past. With the “we will stay until winter passes” mentality, XL is prepared to leave, not wanting to overstep boundaries with HC.

The bond between a child and a single parent is extremely special. It can be complicated to make room for a third relationship with another parental figure. With HC, however, it’s almost too simple.

HC naturally treats both XL and BY as respected and autonomous individuals. He knows they don’t require his presence to function, but that doesn’t stop the alpha from offering his assistance whenever needed. Or wanted. With no further expectations besides...companionship. 

Before, XL never could have predicted how attached BY would be to HC, and vice versa. But given what he knows now, he shouldn’t be surprised. HC is undoubtedly a wonderful alpha. Oh, how XL wants, and wants, and wants...

***

HC doesn’t know what it is about this particular beta and his pup. For the first time since adhering to his father’s harsh mental and physical conditioning, HC can’t seem to control his wolf’s instincts.

Every time he sees XL and BY rolling around in the snow or sharing a meal happily, the head alpha’s heart positively melts. During his pack leader duties, HC will find himself thinking about how XL and BY are–if they’re safe, if they’re enjoying themselves, if they have everything they need.

It’s as if they add a completely new purpose to HC’s life. He must protecc.

It happens when they’re all in their wolf forms playing a light-hearted game of tag. It’s getting late, just about BY’s bedtime. XL delicately picks her up by her nape and carries her over to HC. XL plops his tiny pup in front of HC expectantly, eyes gleaming with an ample amount of trust. 

HC, realizing how significant this action is, doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle BY’s head, softly scenting her. Then, he picks her up himself and heads towards the cabin where XL and BY stay. 

XL had given HC the first of many opportunities to take care of BY as his own, starting by coddling her and putting her to bed. HC feels like the luckiest person in the world. 

Once spring arrives, HC finds himself visiting XL and BY’s cabin for dinner for what seems like the hundredth time. All three of them sit in front of the fireplace. XL and BY are both snuggled up against both sides of HC. BY eventually crawls into HC’s lap, falling into a peaceful sleep.

XL himself is drifting off against HC’s shoulder. Sluggishly, XL mumbles something along the lines about how he’ll never be able to repay HC for everything he’s done for them. HC strokes XL’s hair while murmuring delicately: “You can stay with me. That is enough.”

XL gently squeezes HC’s hand. 

***

Because XL spent so many years in survival mode, his omega went into hibernation. Nearly a year into his and BY’s stay in Crimson Moon pack, XL gains his scent back. His senses also sharpen once his wolf realizes he is safe from the dangerous encounters with other wolves and mother nature’s unforgiving conditions.

XL suddenly craves physical affection from HC. Though he’s a bit unsure of how to ask for it since it’s been so long since he’s been truly hugged (before HC), much less being scented. But HC completely understands, sometimes without XL even having to tell him. The alpha makes sure XL sees the best healer in the pack to track his progress and stays by XL’s side in support of his recovery process.

XL also gains his heat back–an overwhelming development. Thankfully, HC resolutely supports him from the side, committed to prioritizing XL’s needs and comfort. HC is more than happy to provide the best cuddles and kisses for his mate.

It gives baby BY a scare when her baba, along with HC, is absent for a few days. While she is too young to fully understand heat cycles and such, XL makes sure to emphasize that he was having adult troubles and HC helped him through everything. 

Later, BY rewards HC with ferocious leg hugs and smol wolf tackles. HC makes sure to fall down onto his back to let BY climb on top and wiggle in triumph. 

***

One time, when XL fell asleep against HC, he was having a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. HC didn’t know what to do! XL was violently shaking in his arms, whimpering and crying with no way of calming himself down. Thus, HC, on a whim, decided to gather XL up and press him into an embrace, humming a low tune while a deep rumbling instinctively sounds in his chest. 

HC has never purred before. This was his first time.

(XL, feeling anxious all day. When HC returns home, he’ll latch onto HC while nosing his neck.

XL: “Do the thing.”

HC: *purrs happily*

XL: 😇)

***

BY, an ever-so-observant pup, practices what she’s learned from the bestest, smartest, and funniest father. She yips for HC to come over when they are in their wolf forms. She curiously noses at the snow, then glances up at the alpha with puppy eyes. HC indulges her, of course, leaning down to inspect the empty spot-?

Splat!

BY wickedly flicks snow up with her paw onto HC’s snout before bounding away. HC shakes his head in surprise, freezing snow currently lodged up his nose.

HC whirls around to capture his tiny culprit. He’s met with the sight of BY crouching behind XL, gnawing harmlessly at his tail. HC huffs, approaching defeatedly while BY, the little brat, merely sticks out her tongue. HC lays down beside XL, bumping cheeks with the omega and wrapping his tail protectively around their pup.

[kingsuckjin]

Ungodly Beast 3- epilogue

✞ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader

✞ Genre: horror, fluff idk anymore

✞ Synopsis: You need to end this hell on earth.

✞ Warnings: death, gore, mention of burns, blood, talk of heaven and hell, the earth is on fire (I have to say that your child dies but it will all be okay, I promise it’s alright and it’s not as bad as you might think, just trust me.)

✞ Words: 2.3k

✞ A/N: I would put links here for the past two parts, but lately tumblr has been doing this thing where it wont let this fic show up in the tags if I put in links or tag anyone. They're on my masterlist though, I’m just very sorry for the inconvenience.

"Go my child, end this. Take all the power you need, and if you succeed I'll return the favor."

The flames around your bare feet had to be searingly hot, but they didn't hurt you, it didn't even singe or dirty the white you wore. 

The grass of the park was no more, and what lie under the flames was dry, scorched earth. The leaves had been burned from the trees, the trunks of which still smoked and trailed upwards towards the starless night sky. Glowing orange embers and ash fell all around you like some kind of twisted blizzard.

As you walked you saw the melted remnants of the playground you use to take your son to.

So this was hell on Earth.

It was just a shell of familiarity and home.

On your walk you could hear the sounds of police sirens and fire trucks, but it was much too late for them, everything was on fire.

Buildings, shops, offices, either up in flames or ash on the ground. You saw a car in flames explode, thankfully no one was in it.

There were people. People lined the streets, crying, confused, scared and burned.

An old man was laying on the street, his wife crying over him. She was so hysterical she didn't even see you approach, but when she did her jaw dropped at the sight of you, she begged you for help in another language, one you knew only bits and pieces of before and studied in your free time, but you now fully understood.

You said nothing as you looked over the man's burnt face before placing your hands over it, covering the freshly burnt skin. You closed your eyes and let your head fall slightly.

"My child, I will let you heal him, I will let you give the people hope. But you must hurry to find him before he causes anymore irreversible destruction. Stop him, and put the rest in my hands."

You nodded in agreement and opened your eyes and moved your hands. 

On lookers had gathered around you, both the woman and the man thanked you, but you had to go.

"Don't worry, just pray." You told them. You knew they were looking at your wings folded against your back as you walked on.

As you passed Namjoon's burning church you could see him clearly in your head, on his knees on the floor between the pews on prayer as he realized who was just outside right before it went up in flames.

You didn't go inside, it was too late for him, but you knew Jungkook and your son had to be close, you could feel it. You could see their trail of death, torment and destruction.

You closed your eyes and you brought on the rain.

The crack of thunder rolled through the sky before the downpour started, and though it rained around you, you remained dry. It was all you could do in an attempt to end the suffering of the people at the hands of this fire for now. You also wanted to prevent the risk of them making things worse when you found them.

To attract them you began to sing quietly, you sang the song in the language that Jungkook had sang to your son when he was just a baby. Though the lyrics didn't translate well, it was a song about peace and silence and it was in the world's first language. Even back then, you supposed, that parents just wanted their babies happy and they wanted to do right by them. You remembered Jungkook saying when you first met him that that was something he never understood, and still seemed not to.

You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you pitied him. You pitied his lack of understanding towards humanity even with all of his new emotions. He didn't get to grow from a child, he didn't have surroundings or figure to help shape him. He couldn't never be a parent because he never had a parent figure, he was never a child, Jungkook just was. He had just been Jungkook all at once since the birth of time. He only knew being cast out of heaven, he only knew lies, he only new bitterness, revenge, and power. Jungkook only knew destruction and couldn't handle when you had created something for him, given life to something that was partially made from him. Jungkook wanted to own you and your children just like he owned the souls in hell. Even if you give a person emotions who wasn't taught right from wrong or how to be there for people, or how to not be selfish, they might feel guilty. However, they've already become set in their ways seeing as it's all they've ever known. It wasn't Jungkook's fault that he was given this eternal cold life, he never asked for this.

You understood vastly more than you did before, there was no fooling you now, you saw absolutely everything but one way you saw before never changed.

You loved Jungkook. You knew he would've loved you if he could've from the start. You were his soulmate, His Lilith, his reason for not being allowed to have emotions in the first place in fear of producing the Antichrist. Nothing could stop destiny, you knew this now. No matter what god took or gave to him, nothing could've stopped this. Even now as you found Jungkook holding your son's hand as he burns someone alive, this was destiny. Just like Noah's ark, god can cast out and call forth, he can teach lessons or make people forget.

So here you were, and here he was, in the middle of this burnt street. Neither of them saw you yet, but they were doing what destiny called for.

"Jungkook." You spoke his name for the very first time, catching both their attentions. 

"Mommy!" Your elated son tried to run to you but his father stopped him as he was stuck staring at you.

"You're…" his voice was almost inaudible with the roar and crack of the fires that were too big.

You unfurled your white wings from behind your back and stretched them out.

"You're home." 

"Mommyyy! Mommy back!” Your son yelled happily with a big smile on his face as he began struggling against his father and slipped out of his grasp. Your son ran the half of a block down the street and you could now see his horns were much larger now, and his eyes were black. His father screamed for him and began to run after him, telling him not to touch you.

You knelt down and let your child run into your open arms. You wrapped them around him and let him fall limp.

"I love you, everything will be okay." You told him as you picked him up and laid his body on the sidewalk. Much like a cross or holy water, your body itself could destroy anything Unholy, you were blessed from god himself, you were an angel.

"No… no! What did you do to him?! What did you do to our son?!" Jungkook screamed at you making the fire around you only burn more angrily.

"He felt nothing, God will return him to me." You stepped closer to him. "I came for you too."

"No. You're home, bring our son back and come home!" He demanded but you were no longer easily swayed.

"This isn't my home anymore, look what you've done to it." You answered calmly.

"I made this for us, I did this for you." 

You watched as blood began to leak from his eyes and mix with the water from the rain. 

"I know, I know you did. I know that there's no length you wouldn't go to for me, even your son. You mean well, you just don't understand. Just know I would go through any length for you and our family, and that's why I'm here. We both went through great lengths, we've both been through a lot, so come to me."

"You're tricking me, you're going to kill me…" he with his narrowed eyes aimed at you.

"You're in pain, Jungkook. It doesn't have to be that way. God still has time to fix this little isolated incident." 

"And hell? What happens to hell when I'm gone?" He asked. You felt he was about ready to give in, you knew it took everything in his power right now to not come to you and hold you.

"I think that's what destiny wanted all along,  no more hell. We were meant to be together Jungkook, and it's finally time. I'm not tricking you, I could never do to you what you did to me. Let's go get our daughter and son, let's be a family let's-" 

He began to walk towards you, falling to his knees at your feet and looking up at you.

"I don't know where I'll be going, but I'll follow you anywhere" you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "I just want you and my family, I want everything to be okay." 

You lifted your hand to his cheek as you looked down into his black eyes and brushed away the bloody tears from his cheeks only to leave red marks of your own. You had burned him with your touch, and he had flinched but didn't outwardly complain.

He stood and his face came just millimetre from yours.

"Just do it." He whispered before pressing his lips softly to yours.

You brought both of your hands up and placed them on his face and in a split second he went limp against you.

You struggled to gently lay him down on the pavement.

"I'm done. It's done. Fix it, please." You spoke out loud.

"Rest now my child. You've been through so much."

The sky began to grow brighter and brighter until it took over everything and you had to squint to see anything at all.

You were struck with the sudden urge to pee, but you were just too tired underneath your warm sheets. You groaned as you tried to go back to sleep but the feeling became almost unbearable.

You moved the blankets, sat up, and swung your legs over the bed, immediately feeling your back hurt. This action must've woken up the baby inside of you because you began to feel the heavy kicks from inside of your belly.

"I'm going, I'm going." You nagged at the unborn baby as you waddled towards the bathroom. "You better not kick me in the bladder again, girl." You warned.

When you were done you headed to the kitchen with new priorities, you smelled food. Lately just the thought of anything food related had you salivating and reaching for anything edible you could get you hands on, but that's just what being seven months pregnant did to you.

You walked through the doorway just in time to see a few pieces of scrambled egg fall onto the floor.

Your son looked down at it from the stool against the counter he stood on and so did his dad.

"Uh oh." You son said as he looked at you, holding a plate of the eggs.

"Morning darling. We're definitely not making a mess in here." Jungkook lied with a smile as you assessed the damage the boys had done to the kitchen.

"As long as you both clean it up I see no mess." You joked.

"Mommy! Breakfast!" Your son held the plate up proudly, spilling more eggs onto the floor, lucky Jungkook decided to take the plate away from the tiny little version of himself before picking him up with the other arm.

"Tell mommy good morning!" He placed the plate on the table before bringing your son over on his hip. Jungkook knew it was hard for you to bend over now a days.

Your son gave you a wet kiss on your cheek before his father knelt down with him.

"What about baby sister?" His father asked him.

The boy was careful as he gave your belly a hug and pat and told it good morning.

"Morning." Jungkook gave you a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

"We missed you." He whispered into your ear. "You slept in late, must almost be time for her." He let you go so you could all sit at the table.

"I'm excited, but dreading having to through giving birth a second time. We missed church again because of me, didn't we?" 

"Father Namjoon understands you're too pregnant to function at the moment." He jokingly assured you. "I'm excited for her to get here already. I'll be right there with you, and little bub gets to spend time with his grandma. It's all planned out and you have nothing to worry about. Oh, by the way, I finished putting the crib up in the nursery finally." Even as he spoke about mundane things, there was a sparkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked at you, there were so wide with excitement and wonder, a trait he passed to your son. You would never get enough of him, you hadn't been able too since you met in grade school. You even found yourself missing him deeply to the point of tears during college. When you saw him again one night at a bar, the two of you just couldn't help it. You were confident that was the night you made your son together. You were once again inseparable as inseparable gets. He just stayed over every night after that night, which was good because you didn't want him to leave anyway. You were married just three months after that night at the bar. He wanted everything you wanted, he was the man you had always dreamed of, you had never loved any other person the way you did him. You had always had a connection with him, one you felt went far beyond when you met him as a little wide eyed boy asking to be friends. You knew, both of you did, that you were soulmates.You had always had been and always would be, in this life, whatever lives came before this, and in the next.

[spenciegoob]

What’s That Vegas Saying?

Request(?): Just saw this tiktok where a girl and her friends were drinking shots, and the alcohol was in these tiny test tubes. the one girl had the end of the tube in her mouth, grabbed her friend’s face so basically the alcohol was being fed to her and I immediately thought of doing that with Spencer.

The request (?) was gifted to me by the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: alcohol consumption, intoxication, major pining (lol oops)

Masterlist

___

Team bonding with the BAU was not as simple as it sounds. They couldn’t just stay in the woods on a camping retreat; they’ve seen too many cases in the woods. Going to the beach was just... weird. And apparently hunting down the sickest minds or eating pasta at Rossi’s mansion wasn’t “team bonding” enough. 

“How about we go to Florida?” You asked the group seated around the conference table. The chorus of unenthusiastic groans of disagreement served as your answer.

“If we want to be surrounded by drunk teenagers, maybe,” Derek piped up, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at his sarcasm. As sarcastic as it was, though, he was right. It dawned on the group that there was possibly no where to go that didn’t either have bad memories, or would definitely create some.

That was until Spencer Reid broke the silence.

“What if we go to-” The suggestion didn’t need finishing; they all knew what he was going to say. As quickly as it left his mouth, regret etched his features with the realization that not only was the team going to hop on the idea, but if he had not spoken at all, they might not have even considered it.

“Boy Wonder does it again!” Penelope shouted in her usual enthusiasm, although unlike most times, this held a bit of mischief as well. 

“That’s it,” Emily jumped in. “We’re going to Vegas, baby.”

And that’s how the team found themselves on a plane heading straight for Las Vegas, Nevada. More importantly, how you found yourself next to a more than usual jittery Spencer Reid. You knew for him, going home wasn’t exactly a team bonding vacation, but more anxiety than normal.

Anxiety about what exactly?

The question remained in your head for the first hour of the trip. That was until you couldn’t ignore the way his leg basically shook the whole plane, and his constant moving eyes flickering between anything he could out of the tiny window.

“Hey,” you said putting your hand on his knee softly, the bouncing immediately halting. “Are you okay?”

The bouncing didn’t return when the question left your mouth, but tension in his muscles returned. His whole body went rigid at your words.

“Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” The question came with no malicious intent, but the speed at which it left his mouth confirmed his growing worry.

“I’m not going to pry, but I will tell you this,” you say as you squeezed his knee before releasing it. 

Spencer would never say it, but he missed the warmth of your hand on his skin too soon after it was gone.

“This could be your chance to let yourself go and finally have fun in the one place that seems impossible for you to do so.” You hoped your words reached him as you watched his eyes flicker rapidly again, the movements so subtle that if the small lights above you were off, you may have never noticed.

He was trying to let your words sink, wrap his brain around logic that had no scientific reasoning or fact to back it up. You could only hope he heard you, really heard you, and when his eyes halted and a small smile stretched his features, you couldn’t help but return the gesture with a fluttering heart.

“You may just be right.” He finally made eye contact with you, causing both of your smiles to grow wider.

With a new found serge of confidence with the hot doctor who unknowingly held your heart, your smile turned to a smirk and you leaned in so your cheek was besides his.

“And you know what they say.” You turned slightly so your eyes could rest on his side profile and gauge his reaction. It didn’t last long, because sensing movement, Spencer turned slightly too. His face was stoic, but behind his eyes there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You let your eyes drift to his partially parted lips, and then back to his eyes, all within less than a second.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

The same day the plane landed the team found themselves in a club that night. It was 9:57, but from the way half of the team joined Penelope is taking back shots, you could tell it was only the beginning of the night.

That’s when you noticed that Spencer wasn’t like you or Aaron pacing yourselves for the night. Actually, the doctor wasn’t drinking at all.

“Spence, you’re not drinking tonight?” You asked over the loud music that pulsed through your body. When Spencer’s eyes met yours, however, your heart beat faster than the club’s rhythm. 

“No, I um- I don’t think really like alcohol.” Something about that answer didn’t sit well with you, but apparently you weren’t the only one.

“You don’t drink for the taste, Boy Wonder,” a very drunk Penelope yelled from across the booth. 

“I’ve just never drank anything I liked.” That was definitely the worst thing Spencer could say. The second the words left his mouth, Penelope and your head shot up to meet one another’s eyes. 

The “Let’s Get Spencer a Drink He’ll Like” plan blossomed in your one second of shared eye contact.

“I think it’s time we change that, Pretty Boy,” you said with a smirk Spencer melts for, even if that look meant trouble for him later on.

“On one condition,” he started, and turned his body to face yours directly. “You try everything I do.”

You contemplated for a moment. His request meant getting shit-faced in front of your coworkers, but the saying does go what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

“You’re on.”

Penelope all but dragged a slightly less drunk Derek to the bar to fetch Spencer and you some drinks. In the meantime, Hotch stared at the two of you looking at each other, smiles beaming.

“You know,” his voice broke through the trance you two unknowingly had on the other. “I’m not helping either of you out of here when you two get too drunk.”

“I’m with the boss man on that one,” a very, very drunk Emily slurred. 

“That goes for you too, Prentiss.”

Before either of you could defend yourselves, Penelope was back with a tray of assorted shots. There were at least 7 different types of shots, two for each.

“Alright here’s how this is going to work,” she said as she put the tray in front of you two. “I will tell you what’s in them after you’ve taken them.” 

The two of you stared at the tray, your face full of excitement, Spencer’s nervousness. When you two looked back at each other, he gave you a soft smile.

“Hey.” You put your hand on his on the table as you spoke. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

His hand flipped under yours to give you a reassuring squeeze, his smile growing into a smirk as he did so.

“Let’s do this.” Your hands pulled apart as you both decided to start with the clear liquids first. The smell alone was enough to make you want to gag. 

Spencer stared at it quizzically before turning to you.

“Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

You both knocked them back as quickly as you could. You couldn’t help the scrunched up face you made as the liquid burned it’s way down your throat.

Spencer had the same face you did, obviously not enjoying the first drink of the night. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't find his scrunched up nose and eyes adorable.

“That was vodka!” Penelope through giggles as the team laughed at you and Spencer’s disgust.

“Yeah, no shit.” The next shot you and Spencer picked up was also clear, but Einstein did say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. 

“Oh god, here we go again,” you mumbled before throwing the shot back, Spencer following your lead. 

Tequila.

He slammed the shot glass back on the table with a slight cough.

“That was so much worse than the first one,” he squeaked, and you couldn’t help the giggle from escaping. Spencer looked over at you and let out a breathy laugh.

“Regretting your decision now?” He asked.

You grabbed the next shot off the tray, this one having a small brown tint. He grabbed the matching one.

You clicked your glasses together and said “Never,” before finishing the third shot of the evening.

By the time the tray was finished, Spencer did not find a drink he enjoyed, but neither of you could remember what the actual goal was.

Spencer and you were both lightweights, so by the time the shots were cleared, you caught up to the rest of the team’s drunk level.

Sloppiness was a better word for it. At one point you stood behind Spencer with his head leaning back into your hand as you poured another tequila shot down his throat. At another, you had been dared to give JJ a lap dance that you didn't object to doing. 

Now, the team found themselves seated at the booth sharing drunk horror stories.

All of a sudden, Spencer shot up from his chair on legs that can only be compared to a baby deer’s, drawing the attention of the entire team.

“I think I have something to say,” he yelled, and while he seemed uncertain that he wanted to say what was on his mind, there was no uncertainty in his next statement.

“I have a crush on Y/N.” Smiles spread around the table as the team realized it only took a little alcohol for this to happen. The only two not smiling was Spencer, who was staring at his now empty chair with confusing on what the fuck he was doing etched all over his face, and you, who’s jaw was on the floor.

“Hell yeah drunk confession!” Emily yelled, breaking the silence amongst the group that the music had the courtesy to fill.

You realized it’s been way too long for you to not say anything, and whether it was the alcohol or the confirmation you needed, you yelled back at him.

“Oh my god no way.” His head turned to you, the look of confusion replaced with... regret? Anticipation? Hope?

“I have a crush on you, too!” You said it as if the two of you realized you like the same TV show, or are wearing the same socks.

Your casualty about the whole thing made Spencer feel significantly less awkward, and he made a mental note to thank you later.

“No way, for how long?,” he mimicked you from before in the same tone. The two of you stared at each other with wide eyes and bright smiles.

“Since my first day six years ago!”

“Me too!”

The rest of the team just sat there, laughing at the two who finally admitted their feelings for one another. 

“You know what we should do?” Spencer asked you, excitement spread through every inch of his face, and his hands moved between the both of you.

“Especially since we’re in Vegas,” you finished his question, catching on to what he was trying to get at.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He needed confirmation that he was not the only insane person at this table. 

Insane and drunk were interchangeable, right?

“Let’s get married in Vegas,” you both said at the same time, and the relief you both felt when you realized the other was as insane as the other came out as two laughs.

But, as the idea was shared between you two, the team sprung into action.

“Oh no. No, no, no no no,” Derek grabbed Spencer’s shoulders and kept him firmly by his side, JJ doing the same to you. 

“How about we get you two to the hotel instead?”

And then you woke up in your hotel bed with no recollection of how you got there. Your head was pounding as the sunlight seeped through the cheap hotel curtain right in your eyes.

You groaned and shot up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes the best you could. To your right on the nightstand were two advil, a glass of water, and a note. 

You took the advil as soon as you laid your eyes on them before picking up the note to read.

Lunch at noon Next time, we’re going to Florida -JJ

So JJ was the one that brought you to the room after...

Oh god, oh no. That was so stupid. Getting married in Vegas is so stupid why is that a thing? You internally screamed. But wait, Spencer likes you?

You needed to find Spencer. Grabbing your nearest jacket, you threw it on before basically running out the door.

You didn’t get very far, because the second you turned the corner, you ran into something hard.

No, not something, someone. Spencer stood before you in the same state you were in; disheveled, hungover and a little worried.

“Hey, I was just coming to find you,” you said, trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness between you two.

“Ye-yeah me too. I uh, I actually wanted to ask you s-something.” Well so much for alleviating awkwardness. 

“You can ask me anything, Spence.” He looked up at you and gave you his signature tight lipped white boy smile.

“I know they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but when we get back, would you want to maybe grab a coffee or something?” He said rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Like a date?” You didn’t even bother to hide the hopefulness in your voice and on your face. You wanted nothing more than to go on a date with Spencer Reid.

“Yeah, a date. Is that.. okay?” The longer it took to get a yes or no, even a maybe, was enough for the anxiety and regret to start to blossom. You wouldn’t let it grow anymore, though.

“Of course it’s okay, and yes, I would love to get coffee or something.” You giggled back at him, looking up to meet his eyes that matched the ones on the plane; filled with love. 

Love for you.

____

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[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.13

Chapter Thirteen: Happiness is a butterfly: An impromptu “bachelorette” leads to more than you expected. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: swearing, brief talk of heartbreak & breakup/s, alcohol consumption, intoxication, angst, and finally a bit of fluff !!

series masterlist

A/N: i can’t believe after this chapter, there is only two left!! from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone that’s been reading / liking / commenting / reblogging - it genuinely means the world to me!

-

Loud chatter mixed with drunken laughter carried through the bar, creating the perfect Saturday night atmosphere. The various raucous discussions were accompanied by old jukebox melodies, fighting a battle of who can make more noise - man or machine.

The space carried a stench of sweat, cigarette smoke and spilled drink. While listening to Penelope’s incoherent ramblings, you took a mental note of needing to throw the clothes you were currently wearing into the wash the second you got home. If you were sober enough to do so, that is.

“Okay, okay-” Emily began, still laughing at whatever it was Penelope had just said. “Personally, I think a more important question is who wants another drink?” She glanced between the group of girls who all lifted their empty glasses into the air, cheering loudly.

It was a pretty unanimous decision to still throw you a bachelorette party. The BAU ladies wanted a night out and you were happy to provide them with an excuse - primarily because the months have quickly passed into May and you figured it was finally time to stop wallowing in self-pity.

Penelope invested in a fake engagement ring; “No-one will know the difference and this way we can get free drinks.”. She also arrived with a bag of typical bachelorette knickknacks from the dollar store, plastic tiaras, and bright pink sashays - a ‘BRIDE’ one for you, ‘MAID OF HONOUR’ for herself, and ‘BRIDESMAID’ for the remaining ladies.

When the night started you honestly felt quite silly celebrating something that was no longer happening. You felt like a fraud. Fooling all of these people into thinking you were happy and about to embark on the best journey of your life, when the reality couldn't have been more different.

You were utterly alone and pathetically in love with someone who, you were convinced, didn't love you back.

Penelope volunteered to help Emily with getting the drinks while Tara took the time to go and freshen up in the bathroom.

“Sooo... are you still thinking about leaving the bureau?” JJ asked, sliding into the now empty spot beside you. She placed an elbow on the table to prop her head up as she waited for you to answer.

Her question caught you off guard. Taking the last sip of your current margarita, you furrowed your brows together. “What? I don’t even... what?” 

JJ didn't answer. Instead, she let out a relieved laugh. “I knew Spence was playing with me. And I told him, I told him there was no way, absolutely no wayyy you would ever leave, or even consider leaving.”

“Spencer?” You probed, hopping to make some sense of what she ways saying.

JJ nodded her head, her hand clearly struggling to hold it up. “He came by, gosh... this was shortly after your breakup with Ethan? And he let lit slip that the surgeon had come by his place and told him you were leaving the BAU...” Her voice faded out when she noticed the perplexed look on your face. Even in her inebriated state she could tell you had no idea Ethan and Spencer ever spoke alone. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?”

“No, I-I... I don't think so? I’m just... confused.” And as the words escaped your lips, a sudden urge overcame you. If it wasn't for the alcohol cursing through your veins right now, perhaps you would have left it alone. Perhaps the feeling would have passed. Instead, however, you sprung up on your feet and hastily grabbed your handbag.

“I have to go.”

JJ immediately sat up. “Go? Go where?”

But you didn’t want to get into it now. No, you had much more pressing matters at hand - at least your drunken mind thought so. You decided to leave the explaining to Penelope and Tara, who reappeared at the table with Emily and a new set of cocktails. You shot them both a knowing look, and before either of them got a chance to protest, you hurried in the direction of the exit.

The ride to your destination was a blur - partially due to your heavy intoxication, and partially due to the adrenaline you were now experiencing. You weren't even sure how you managed to hail a taxi or how the driver understood the address through your muddled breaths. You were simply glad they did.

Your whole body was shaking. You still weren't entirely sure whether what you were doing was a good idea, but it seemed like there was no other option as JJ’s words rang in your ears - “... the surgeon had come by his place and told him you were leaving the BAU...”. What did she mean by that? When did this conversation even happen? You had so many questions circling your brain, you could only hope they'd get answered once you arrived where you were heading.

Once the car stopped and you paid your fair, you managed to exit the vehicle in one piece and stumble, fairly elegantly, to the front door of the apartment block. The stairs proved to be the real enemy of the night as your legs failed to coordinate with the wooden steps. But once you reached your goal, the struggle of getting here didn't seem as important anymore.

With your hand formed into a lousy fist, you knocked and knocked and knocked until the door swung open.

“When was Ethan here?” You asked, not willing to waste any more time.

Spencer stared at you completely dumbfounded. He blinked, unsure at first whether you were really here or if his mind was playing tricks. Truthfully, he’s imagined this happening many times in the last few months - you finding out the truth behind that night. Especially with the context of your voicemail still lingering in the air every time he saw you.

“Fuck.” You breathed, one hand rockily landing on Spencer’s chest. He instantly reached to grab you and hold safely you up in position. Completely unfazed by your sudden closeness, with your free hand, you brought your knee to your back and you loosened the strap of your heel.

Spencer watched you silently, the overpowering whiff of your perfume mixed with alcohol hitting him like a brick. He quickly took note of the plastic tiara in your hair and the sash wrapped around your rather loose outfit. All that went through his head in that moment was how happy he was you got here safe and sound.

“Do you need me to drive you home? Or, ehm, or call you a cab?” Spencer raised a brow as you regained your wobbly stance, your hand still clinging to his sweatshirt as if it was your only lifeline. Which judging by your... condition, it surely was.

You scoffed, unintentionally blowing your loose strands of your hair away from your face. “Don’t be a jerk, don’t call me a taxi.”

The handsome doctor smirked. “A jerk?”

You nodded. “And do not think for a ss-second, you’re getting away with answering my question.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.”

Spencer carefully led you inside the confide of his apartment. With one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, he closed the door behind and guided you toward the couch. You plopped down with a gentle bounce and he couldn't help but chuckle.

“Let me get you some water.” He offered, but you grabbed his arm and using all of the strength you could muster, you pulled him down next to you.

“Answer my question first.” You mumbled while placing your hands on his cheeks and gaping into his hazel eyes. Gosh, he had such pretty eyes.

Spencer swallowed before licking his lips. Your proximity should be making him nervous, but he felt nothing of the sort. Instead, he found himself shuffling in closer.

“Please, Spencer... I need to know.” The plea was gratuitous because deep down you already knew the answer. You just needed him to confirm your suspicions.

As the tears started to form in your eyes, the brunette doctor sighed deeply. Now was his only chance to set the record straight. He might not get another one, in fact he knew if he let you leave tonight without telling you what really happened he'd lose you permanently. Even as a friend.

Now or never, he thought, then proceed to explain.

And you listened. You listened patiently and attentively, letting the waterfall of tears escape and trail mascara down your face. His words were slowly sobering you up. Everything was starting to become clear once again.

Spencer always loved you. He never stopped loving you. He never wanted to end things, he simply did what he thought was the right thing to do. The right thing for you because your happiness was more important to him than his own. He still loved you. He loved you.

By the time Spencer was finished, the alcohol had completely faded from your system. Your arms instantly draped around his neck, and you fell into his comforting embrace. Attaching yourself like a magnet. His hand landed at the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Basking in your warmth. He whispered apologies into your ear, repeating over and over again that he will never let you go again.

You believed him.

When you finally pulled away, the tears had stopped falling. Using his thumb, Spencer gently wiped the lone droplets that remained on your face. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, so many things he wanted to do with you, but at least now he knew he didn't have to rush. The chase was over.

His fingertips traced along your jawline before settling on your chin. The two of you gazed into each other’s eyes, because in this moment you were the only people to exist. The only people to matter.

“Can I kiss you?”

A smile circled your features. “As if you have to ask.”

His mouth brushed against yours with tenderness and care. You melted into him completely, glad he was taking his time because the first touch of his lips on your sent a jolt down your spine. One hand slid from your chin up your cheek, cupping your face, while his other hand graciously moved up and down your arm.

Your lips parted from shocking overwhelming sensation in your body. You hadn't realised just how much you missed his touch, not until his hand traveled from your arm to your neck. His fingertips brushing across, not quite landing in any particular place, as his tongue eagerly slid into your mouth.

Conveyed in his kiss were over a million loving thoughts and conversations previously left unspoken. The pent up tension, built up over the occurrences of these last few months, suddenly exploded. In the moment, in this kiss, you were both your pure selves.

He was yours, and you were his.

Forever.

Do you want me or do you not? I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another

-

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol​

tags not working: @radtwinkie

[bvccy]

Nothing to Despair | Preview 1 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

RATING: it's pretty naughty but there's no bad words so Idk

WARNINGS: None, just softness and kissings and the hint of unrequited love

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: I'm currently working on something new, and as it might be a W H I L E until it's ready to post, I thought I'd share a snippet to tide you over. Now, the rest of it is only partly done, but I’ll just say I made myself cry while writing it. You’re all going to suffer, it’s gonna be GREAT. It starts soft and angsty but it will get very dark and smutty. On that note, do let me know if you’d like to be tagged once the full thing is published. It’s gonna be also on AO3 anyway.

Enjoy! :D

While he waited in his room for her to finish getting dressed, he was actually grateful to see Steve had texted him. Bucky read the message in passing then called without thinking.

"Hey, bud." came Steve's voice, happy but surprised and sounding just a bit tired. "Was afraid I wouldn't catch you in time."

"Hi, no, we were just about to go out."

"You ok? Sound a bit—"

"Everything's fine, Stevie, don't worry. So what's this club you mentioned?"

"Wanted to let you know about a little place SHIELD found out about. A few of your favorite people been making appearances, thought you'd be interested."

"Is that right… Where is it?"

"Not far from the hotel, I'll give you the address."

They sat through the first portion of presentations in a shared silence that was common but heavier than usual. She was as effortlessly nice to him as before any of their little fights, but distant, always distant underneath the smooth pleasantries.

They went for the lunch break with everyone else, and with every opportunity, Bucky kept his eyes on Hamelin. He was talking with the lady from Spain again and sitting more closely than usual. He'd seen him have lunch with a few of the other attendees as well, but she seemed to be his most frequent companion.

As they were about to part, Hamelin passed her a note so surreptitiously as to seem a handshake, but Bucky noticed. They left together, and as they passed the great big doors of the restaurant, Hamelin went in the usual direction of the auditorium, while the woman went a different way. From Steve's call that morning, Bucky had an idea of where that might be, and knew better than to miss the opportunity.

The girl was just finishing her meal, sitting in silence across from him. He thought about tailing the lady on his own, but the idea of leaving his partner in the same room as Hamelin, even with all the other conference goers, didn't sit well with Bucky. He paid for lunch, and as they walked out together he led them toward the lobby.

"A little side-trip." he smiled at her confusion. She wasn't surprised by that anymore, and went along as always.

"What is this?" she asked as they approached a decrepit looking building, not a ten minute walk from the hotel. It looked utterly uninhabited, but a lit stairway leading down betrayed its use.

"Just checking something out." he said as he led them onward, one arm secured on the small of her back.

They went through a rusty looking door at the bottom of the stairway, a squeak announcing them to a few shadowy figures ahead. People looked at them then turned away in disinterest, minding their own business. The faint sound of jazz floated through the corridor, and red lights lit the way forward.

They arrived inside what was a sort of dance-club, mellow and warm and smoky. A few patrons gathered around old wooden tables, some sitting at a dirty wet bar; a pianist and singer performed slowly on the small stage up front.

Bucky scanned the place, not seeing anything suspicious yet, if you didn't count the clandestine nature of the whole thing. Heavy red curtains decorated the walls, and beyond some he could just about see doorways. He held the girl closer to himself, just in case, and heard her wince in disgust as she spotted some of the couples grinding against each other in the dark.

"What are we doing here?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Just stick close to me, honey." he smiled down at her, pulling her more possessively to him.

He led them to one of the empty tables in a red-cushioned alcove, stained with alcohol sprinklings and cigarette ash, from where he could easily watch the entrance.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks. Will you be ok here a minute?" he asked as she sat down and took her jacket off.

"Yes, yes." she sighed.

"Ok…" Bucky smiled, and right before he left remembered to ask "By the way, what would you like?"

She thought for a second, and decided "Absinthe, please."

"Bit strong for you, isn't it?"

"I'll need a good disinfectant for this place." she smirked.

Bucky grinned, then went to the bar.

He was back soon enough with drinks for the both of them, and sat beside her to scan the place. He held her close to him, one arm flung around her shoulder, the other resting on his glass of gin. Nobody bothered or approached them, or even looked their way much; discretion seemed to be the rule of the place.

The girl sipped her drink, melting slowly into his side as it soothed her nerves, though she still regretted it every time she looked up and saw something she didn't like.

They were there for a quarter of an hour before sharp footsteps echoed from somewhere to the left, almost unnoticeable underneath the music. Bucky followed the sound to one of the far walls, and sure enough a figure passed through the curtains, almost as if materialising from the dark. It was the Spanish lady, looking rather nervous and out of place as she walked with another man who was older and broader, with a professional look to him. He led her out, and several minutes later came back to disappear the way he'd come, through the curtains.

The girl noticed it too, and looked up at Bucky suspiciously. Catching her gaze, he shrugged with a smile and instantly she knew they had work to do.

He led them across the room, toward the walls, walking along inconspicuously as they made for the entrance they'd seen. The heavy material parted for them to reveal a hallway, dark and very cold and even more poorly lit than the bar. Trash littered the corners and broken old furniture was piled up in places, waiting to be thrown away.

Wordlessly, the couple walked through hand-in-hand. They reached far enough away that the sound of music faded, where bits of graffiti, partially covered or scraped off, decorated the walls under the flickering lights. Some drunk was passed out on the floor, his legs sprawled across the way. Bucky and the girl stepped over him and went on, and met another pair a bit further, cuddled together on the ground as they fiddled with a package between them.

Finally, they reached a corner the led on to a more well lit path. Bucky and the girl looked at each other and quietly agreed to go on together. They didn't make it a few feet until he stopped her, Bucky just barely making out some voices through the walls. Three men, by the sound of it, speaking in Russian. They talked about payment, one week or two, verification, doubts, and counter-offers.

When Bucky heard their voices draw further, then closer again, he started moving the girl back and going the way they came. The men were coming out, and were bound to find them.

She didn't seem too frightened, following his lead obediently, and that gave him a bit of courage to try and find out more. Stepping past the dizzy drunks and vagrants, Bucky stopped them both in the middle of the hallway.

"They're going to see us." she whispered with worry.

"I know, but we gotta get into their office." he said, looking at the far end of the hall. The men should come through any second.

"But if they catch us…"

"They're not gonna catch us, doll." Bucky pulled her closer as he stuck his back to the wall, his metal arm covering the length of her spine securely, black glove holding the back of her neck.

They both looked with concern at the shadows lengthening around the corner, and in a heartbeat Bucky made his decision.

"Kiss me." he whispered, turning his burning gaze down toward her.

"What?"

"Come on, kiss me."

"I can't." she choked, looking up pleadingly into his eyes. "I can't, I can't…"

Just as the far off voices announced the near arrival of the men, Bucky took her face gently in his hand and pulled it up to him, turning it just slightly enough that his lips caressed the corner of her mouth. From the side, it looked good enough to pass for the real thing. His other hand went to her leg and hooked it up around him, fingers curled around her thigh and caressing its inside from underneath, raising her skirt enough to flash the red lace trimming of her slip, the edge of her stocking, and those naughty black garters.

She gripped his lapels to hold on, fearful but tight enough to seem passionate, and she pressed herself against him. She closed her eyes tightly, and even in the shadow of all the other feelings — more erotic, more sensual, frantic — Bucky most of all relished the gentle tickle of her lashes against his cheek.

He held on to her and she to him, shocked under his kiss — that wasn't a full kiss, as much as he could make it, and she was grateful to him for at least that. She grounded herself on the hard planes of his body, broad and heavy as a wall but radiating with a furnace-like heat against her chest and stomach and all the way down between her legs. His mouth caressed the side of hers in tender waves, warm and damp and surprisingly soft, while the tips of his fingers stroked the inside of her leg.

Her hands let go of his lapel for the second it took to grip onto his shoulders, pulling herself even closer and hiding in his body as the men passed them by. Bucky held her tighter and tilted his head just enough to look through the corner of his eye at the back of them, while his fingers caressed her skin with a mind of their own. The men were far enough away and soon were out of sight, going through the curtain and out into the jazz club. He closed his eyes and swallowed a moan, in disbelief at just how hot and soft her thigh could be, and as his fingers crawled upward toward an even deeper warmth, Bucky felt her tense and tremble, and he let her go.

Her leg slinked its way back to the ground while he lifted his lips from her, and as they slowly let each other go they were hit again by the coolth of the corridor. Bucky steadied her, and himself, with a hand on her shoulder, and searched her blushing and avoidant face.

"You good, doll?" he rasped, feeling as winded as she looked.

"Yeah…" she gasped into his chest. Above and unseen by her, he licked the remnants of her taste from his lips and swallowed greedily, while the girl brushed a dry hand across her mouth to wipe him away. "Let's hurry, before they come back."

It was an easy enough job for Bucky to break into their office, though he took his time to pick the lock as quietly as possible and mindful of any alarm triggers.

He gave her one of the two small flashlights he carried in his pocket, and they started looking through the messy old place, sifting through files and folders and open drawers. None of it felt right, those didn't seem like the sort of guys to leave stuff just lying around. And sure enough, inside a stocky wooden dresser, nailed into the bottom of it, was a compact safe. Bucky called the girl over, and she held a light for him while he looked it over.

It had a number of dials and buttons, and the metal didn't seem so thick that he couldn't break it open, but he didn't want to be too obvious about their intrusion. Bucky felt around the edges of the box, and considered picking it open before he noticed an even safer entry point.

He looked at the girl with a cocky smile, and she raised a brow at him.

"Another shoe?"

"Hairpin this time, darlin'."

She sighed and pulled one from her hair. Carefully, Bucky stretched and twisted it into an L shape, then pushed it through a small hole in the corner of the box while he kept pressure on the dial that opened it. He didn't have to twist it around much until the lock was opened from inside. With no risk of picks scratching or breaking the keyway, there would be no hint it was ever opened.

"You know, if we decided on a career as burglars, we could live like kings." she whispered with amusement.

"Don't temp me." Bucky grinned.

He sifted through the safe's contents, pulling out folders and stacks of cash in various currencies. The papers were in multiple languages, including the local one, but they didn't have time to go through it all. They decided to risk it and take the folders with them, which Bucky hid at his back, beneath the jacket. It wasn't until they were back out into the club that the girl remembered she'd left hers behind.

They went back to their seats but couldn't find it anymore, and the bartender said he hadn't noticed anything. It didn't have pockets nor any identifiable mark, so they weren't too worried about its loss. They gave up on it quickly and went back to the hotel.

[marvxlousqueen]

So Fucking Sore- Bucky x Loki x Reader

i have returned from the dead to deliver this smut for my friend’s birthday LMAOO anyways for this let’s just pretend tony killed thanos in endgame and brought back nat and gamora and nobody died haha yes anyways bucky is a simp in this tbh (and i’ve never written for loki so forgive me if it’s bad LMAOO)

anyways happy bday bestie (don’t wanna expose ur name on here lol) love u <3

word count: 3.5k

The Avengers compound was more full than it had ever been. Finally, every floor was filled, every guest room taken, some sleeping bags even rolled onto the floor. Tony hadn’t planned to host the entirety of the avengers force, some odd one thousand people. After defeating Thanos and fixing the time lines, Tony felt as though they deserved a break and a celebration. Although most people were still recovering and wouldn’t stay for long at the party, he figured laughter is the best medicine- that, and he always loved an occasion to show off his hosting skills. 

Tony’s invitation even extended to the staff at the compound, which is how (Y/n) found herself holding a rsvp letter, trying to decide which box to check off. 

“Yes [   ]  (+1)   No [    ]”

She fumbled with the letter, pen getting heavy in her hand. She was seated in her office, taking her lunch break in between helping some of the injured Wakandan soldiers. Being an on-site nurse, of course she had had encounters with the team, but nothing like this party would be. 

Would it be embarrassing if I didn’t have a plus one, she thought

She was interrupted by a knock at her door. “Come in,” she said without looking up. 

The door slowly opened and Bucky entered, small smile on his face. 

“Hey.. just figured I’d bring you some snacks. Figure you must be real busy in the infirmary.”

He set a plate of strawberries on the table with a bottle of water, metal arm extending towards her. (Y/n) could briefly see her reflection in the shine of the vibranium. She lost herself for a moment, examining his arm.

“(Y/n)?” 

“What- oh yeah! Super busy. Thanks, Buck,” she gave him a smile, cheeks burning.

They had always had some sort of chemistry, but she just couldn’t quite get a read on it enough to make a move. Ever since reconnecting with Steve, Bucky had gotten back into his old ways. Still a giant flirt, just maybe a little more shy than in the 40s. He loved to toss some pick up lines around whenever he wound up in the infirmary (which was a little too often), so (Y/n) couldn’t figure out if he really liked her or was flirty with everyone. 

“What’s that you got there?” He motioned to the rsvp letter on her desk, still unanswered.

“Oh, invitation to Tony’s party thing this weekend. Think he’s trying to get a head count for seats and food. Don’t think I’m going to go, though.”

Bucky pulled up a chair to her desk, “Why wouldn’t you go? You should be celebrating too, I mean- half of us wouldn’t be in this good of a condition without your healing hands.”

His lips pulled into a smirk as he saw her smile shyly. He loved how we could always make her melt at the slightest compliement.

“I think it might be a little embarrassing to show up without a plus one.. I don’t know, it’s probably stupid, but it seems like everyone has someone, you know?”

(Y/n) shrugged, not sure how else to explain her thoughts.

Bucky nodded, running a hand through his hair, “So- what, you’re waiting for someone to ask you?” 

“I- No, but it would be nice, I guess.”

Bucky felt his face heat up. Here’s my chance, he thought. A chance to get some real action because I’ve been out of it for too fucking long. 

(Y/n) looked up at him, waiting for a response. When nothing came, she pushed through her nerves. “You don’t have a date, do you?”

His eyes snapped up to hers, wide with worry. “I-uh-no. D-don’t need one. Just a party, you know? Kinda stupid to get a date for a party like this.”

“Oh- yeah, totally,” (Y/n) stumbled over her words, facing burning with embarrassment. Did he call me stupid? Well, I guess that answers my questions- he is definitely NOT into me. 

 Bucky almost slapped himself after seeing the way (Y/n)’s face dropped. THAT CAME OUT WRONG THAT CAME OUT WRONG THAT CAME OUT WRONG!! He meant to come off as relaxed and nonchalant like he used to be, but instead he sounded like a dick. 

Before he could get an apology out, another knock was heard from her office door. “C-come in!”

Steve opened the door, “Hey- oh hey buck,” Bucky awkwardly waved at him, still busy screaming at himself, “anyways, (Y/n)- Thor’s got friends on the way and apparently they got a little scuffed up on the way from Norway, so you think you can head in and check on em?” 

“Yes! Totally! Uh- bye Bucky, I-I’ll see you.” She jumped out of her seat and rushed off down the hall, happy to get away from this tension with Bucky.

Steve watched her speed off down the hall before turning back to his old friend. “So.. how’s that going?”

Bucky sighed, “It’s not going at all. I think I accidently called her dumb? I don’t know- I kinda blacked out for a minute there.”

Steve patted him on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine. You got plenty of time to fix anything and make your move when you’re ready, all right?”

He understood how his friend was having some difficulties. While he was far more stable then he used to be, Bucky still had his moments and was working through them. Steve couldn’t be prouder. 

“I guess you’re right. As long as no other guy tries to scoop her up.”

--

(Y/n) entered the infirmary, breathing hard from the speed walk she took to escape that awkwardness. Laying on two of the beds was a tall man with long black hair and some sort of creature with knives attached to it’s hands. 

“(Y/n)! My friends require your services!” Thor shouts, embracing her in a hug.

She laughs as he squeezes her tightly, “Of course! Now let me go so I can help-”

The man who was reclining on the first bed sat up, eyebrows raised. “You’re a healer?”

She looked towards him, noting his accent was similar to Thor’s, “Well- no. Not a healer, just a nurse, but I’ll do my best. With all this new tech it’ll be real easy to batch you up. What happened?”

Thor spoke up, “My dear friend here,” he motioned toward the creature with the blades for hands, “Miek- got into a argument with my dear brother and knives were thrown. Just minor stab wounds of course, but it would be nice for them to be healed before Stark’s feast.”

“Your brother?” She looked towards the man with black hair, who offered a smile. “You’re Loki?” 

“The trickster god indeed.”

Her face heated up, partially in fear and partially in awe. Before her was the man who constantly tried to rule Earth. “Are you-,” she turned to Thor, “is he allowed to be here?”

“Of course! He aided me in our fight against Thanos. He stands as an avenger now.” 

Loki rolled his eyes and began to spin a small knife he pulled from his boot.  (Y/n) nodded, still registering everything, “Well, uh , okay then. Where’s the stab wound?” 

Loki moved to lift his shirt. On his left side was a gash still dripping blood. (Y/n) took a deep breathe, forcing herself to focus on his wound and not the outline of his abs and the way sweat was dripping down.

“Oh- jesus christ, okay. Let me get some stuff.”

The creature on the other bed made a noise and (Y/n) realized he was injured too, a small blade sticking out of his leg. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” She ran to the other side to grab materials and begin patching them up. The process went like a blur. All she could feel was the way Loki’s body felt warm against hers, not like the cold she was expecting from his being a dark elf. His hand brushed against hers as he admired her handy work, eyes moving from her face to her form. Finally she was done and seated back in her office, yelling at herself for being so horny today for no goddamn reason. 

As she took a seat once again, she noticed the still blank rsvp card.

God-fucking-damn it

She still had a decision to make. As she went to check the “No [   ]” box, her door opened. Loki walked in and quickly made himself comfortable, sitting across from her. 

“I wish to thank you for the help.”

(Y/n) nodded, eyes wide, “Of course, yeah, anyth-”

“I also wish to invite you to Stark’s feast.”

She froze, mouth slightly open. I don’t even know this dude! And he’s killed a shit ton of people..

“Uh, well,” oh fuck it, “I would love that. Thanks.”

He smiled, “I’ll see you then, (Y/n).”

He left and closed the door behind him. She rushed to fill out the card and went to find Tony. Knowing him, he’d probably be down in his lab playing robots with Morgan. (Y/n) hopped in the elevator and headed towards the basement above the parking garage. It stopped around 3 floors down and the sign flashed “gym.” The doors opened and Bucky entered, sweaty from trying to workout and get rid of all these new feelings he’s having. He didn’t look up from his phone until the doors closed behind him. 

His eyes landed on hers, “O-oh hey! Hi.”

(Y/n) gave him a wave and looked down at her letter, rolling it up in her hands.

“You going to the party?”

“Yep.”

“That’s good! Really good! Because you really don’t need a date for stuff like this, we’re all friends, right?” Bucky was desperately trying to make up for what he had said earlier. 

“I have a date actually.”

His eyes widened, “What? Who?”

She turned and shrugged, “Just some guy I met, don’t think you would know him.”

A light went off in his head- she’s trying to make me jealous, isn’t she! She doesn’t have a date! She just wants me to make my move!

Bucky laughed and gave her a smirk, “You don’t have to lie to impress me, doll.”

She whipped around, “Excuse me? You don’t think I can get a date?”

His cheeks turned bright red, “W-what? No, you’re just trying to make me jealous.. right?”

Her jaw dropped, “You are so full of it.” 

The elevator dinged and (Y/n) exited into the basement, leaving Bucky’s head full of questions.

Did I just fuck up again, he thought. 

The next few days past fairly quickly. (Y/n) spent her time in the medical bay once again, dealing with minor injuries and organizing the first aid kits. The few highlights she did have was a quick lunch with Loki, which seemed very abnormal for him. He showed up in her office with, as he called it, “Midgardian Trash,” which was just a plate of different snack foods that Clint had recommended. They ate in a comfortable silence, sharing a few thoughts here and there, until he took his que to leave. (Y/n) walked him to the door and was surprised when he pressed a kiss to her cheek, making her face heat up.

“See you tomorrow, dear (Y/n).”

She stumbled out a response, making him laugh at her speechlessness. After work she rushed to prepare herself for Saturday night.

--

It was probably the biggest party upstate New York had ever seen. Completely catered, a professional band, everyone dressed up in their finest clothing. (Y/n) would’ve felt completely out of place if it wasn’t for Loki’s arm wrapped around her waist as they entered. He was dressed in a black suit with a dark green tie, constantly repping his main color. Time flew as they spun on the dance floor and drank a little too much, although alcohol didn’t seem to have much effect on him. Loki excused himself to the restroom as (Y/n) downed a glass of water to sober up. She felt someone sit next to her at the bar.

“Look, I’m not interested-”

“Are you crazy? Like- do you genuinely have a death wish?”

She looked beside her and was face to face with Bucky. It felt weird to see him so dressed up. She was used to the sweats and t-shirts, but she had to admit that he cleaned up nice. 

“What are you talking about?”

He glared at her, “Loki? Your date is LOKI. Steve filled me in, I know everything. He’s killed people, (Y/n)! A lot of them!”

“So have you.”

“I-” His voice faltered. “That’s different, you know it is. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Well don’t be. He’s actually a pretty good guy. And here he comes now.”

Loki appeared, tapping Bucky on the shoulder, “can I help you?”

“We were just talking.”

He laughed, “seems you would rather do much more than that.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrowed, ‘What does that mean?”

Bucky’s face turned red, “nothing! I guess I’ll leave you two alone now.” 

“Nonsense,” Loki pushed him back into the chair. “Tell the woman what you think of her. Perhaps it could work out for you, or for us both.”

“What!?”

(Y/n) was confused again, “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

Loki looked her up and down, “don’t be a fool. He fancies you, as do I. I propose an agreement-”

“wait what,” she looked at Bucky, “you like me? Like- more than a friend?”

He looked down at the table, confused and frustrated about his feelings and about how this alien douchebag was making fun of him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke up.

“Listen asshole-”

Loki rolled his eyes, “do you wish to mount the lady or no?”

(Y/n) choked on her water, “what the fuck-”

Bucky’s eyes felt like they would fall out of his head, but he responded instinctively, “yes, god yes.”

Butterflies went off in (Y/n)’s stomach, eyes locked onto Bucky’s face.

“Great. So do I. So we shall share her then? Tonight? What do you think?” 

Loki turned to (Y/n), who was in shock.

“I-what?”

“Tonight, the two of us, yes? In your chambers, perhaps.”

“I-uh, okay.”

Bucky licked his lips, “Okay?”

“Yes, I mean-fuck, why not. You are both.. wow.”

Loki laughed, “Great, but truly shocking how blind you mortals are to each other.” 

The three of them sat in a weird tension at the bar while waiting for Tony to give his toast. After about 10 minutes of emotional rambling, Tony finally raised his glass to the Avengers. (Y/n) downed her drink and looked to the two men sitting beside her. Locking eyes, they shared a common thought and all excused themselves one by one. They found their way into (Y/n)’s bedroom, where she made herself at home by throwing off the heels she had been wearing all night. 

“So-uh-”

Bucky cut off her rambling with a hot, open mouthed kiss pressed to her lips. His hands trailed down her sides and grabbed her ass. He pulled away, breathing hard. “You have no idea, how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

He suddenly felt far more confident and began to strip off his suit, starting with the tie that had been choking him all night. Loki threw off his coat and pushed (Y/n) onto her bed. 

“I want you to kneel.” 

She stood up on her knees, face flushed, waiting for his next move. He slowly undid his pants and pulled out his cock. 

Well, yeah, he’s definitely packing

(Y/n) pressed a kiss to the tip before licking her way from the bottom back to the top. She took a deep breath and took him in her mouth as far as she could. Loki began to thrust, gripping her hair and pushing her forward, using her mouth as a fucktoy. (Y/n) opened her eyes to look up at him and noticed Bucky on the side, hand in his pants, eyes zeroed in on her mouth. She motioned for Bucky to strip, making him drop his pants and boxers, leaving him now completely exposed. His hand continued to pump his length, whimpers leaving his mouth. Loki noticed (Y/n)’s eye’s on Bucky and pulled away from her, leaving spit and precum dripping down her mouth.

“Take her.”

Bucky’s face flushed, embarrassed to be doing exactly what some other dude told him to. He walked towards the bed, cock standing proudly. 

“Is this okay?”

(Y/n) nodded yes, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him onto the bed with her. With Bucky underneath her, she lined up with his dick and sunk down onto it.

“Fuck! Jesus-fuck-”

(Y/n) couldn’t think for a moment, too distracted by how much he was stretching her. Bucky’s head was thrown up and his grip on her thighs tightened. He lifted his tips and bucked into her, making her gasp again.

Regaining her composure, (Y/n) began to roll her hips. As she rode him, Bucky sat up and his lips found their way to her neck, leaving marks up and down it. From the side of the bed, she could see Loki completely exposed now, hand running up and down his length as he watched them. He smirked as he caught her eye, making it more of a show. 

His hand moved faster before focusing on his tip. (Y/n)’s thoughts were broken from him as Bucky began to paw at her clit, rubbing it just the right way. Her hands went to his hair, pulling him close.

“God, so fucking-shit-so tight-”

Bucky’s voiced was strained, trying not to finish before her, but (Y/n) was making it difficult with how tight she was clamped around him. 

“Fuck-i’m so close, please!”

Bucky started thrusting up into her, “say my name-fuck”

“Bucky! Please!”

He rammed into her with a quick pace, hands groping her ass. (Y/n) a warmth growing in her, squeezing his dick even more. Finally, she reached her peak and exploded around him, dripping her juices down his dick. Bucky quickly flipped them over, putting one of her legs over his shoulder and started to pound into her. (Y/n) choked on her breath, completely overwhelmed from the overstimulation. Bucky’s thrusts began to stutter until he bucked one last time, going deep into her and exploding. He filled her up and slowly pulled out, seeing his cum dripping out of her.

“Holy shit.”

(Y/n) laughed, trying to catch her breath, “thanks, you too.”

“Quite the show, indeed.”

(Y/n) had almost forgot there was a whole other dude waiting to fuck her. Looking over, Loki’s cock was still standing tall, the tip burning red. 

He stood up and made his way to the bed, “On your hands and knees.”

His command made butterflies form in her stomach. (Y/n) turned over and got on her hands and knees. Loki entered her without warning, making her scream out in surprise. His hand came to her head, pushing her into the mattress. His pace picked up as he slammed into her.

“Jesus-fucking-god!”

Loki laughed through his heavy breathing, literally fucking her into the mattress.

“Let’s get something in that mouth, yes? Barnes-”

Bucky’s eyes moved from watching where Loki was connecting with (Y/n) to her mouth. “Sure-yeah, fuck yes.”

Bucky was thankful for his super soldier qualities because he was already up for round two. He got on the bed, dick facing (Y/n)’s mouth. She got back on her hands and kissed his tip before he pushed in. Bucky let (Y/n) control the pace although most times she was pushed on his dick by Loki’s hard thrusts. (Y/n) lost track of time as she getting literally fucking railed. Loki’s thrusts began to speed up and sweat was dripping down his godly body. 

(Y/n) felt the coil in her stomach tighten again, warmth spreading through out her, she was close, moaning around Bucky’s length. He pulled out of her mouth and began to jerk off, enjoying the show Loki and her were putting on. 

(Y/n) screamed as she reached her climax for the second time that night, eyes rolling to the back of her head, but Loki didn’t slow. He continued until one finally thrust, he pulled out and spilled onto her back, throwing his head back.

The noises (Y/n) was making made Bucky cum into his own hand before collapsing on the bed. 

(Y/n) dropped onto the bed, legs shaking. “Jesus- fuck.”

Bucky put a hand to her cheek, “you okay? We didn’t hurt you, did we?”

She shook her head, “No, just-fuck- I’m gonna be so fucking sore.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

Next

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…”  He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

[acciofanfics]

Be Quiet (Harry Potter x Reader) SMUT

Request: Can you write a story where the reader (Slytherin) and Harry fall in love with each other and have their first time (smut pls!) and at the same time Sirius and the reader find out that’s she’s his daughter? Xo

Pairing: Harry Potter x FemReader

Warnings: Smut, very slight mentions of death, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2389

A/N: I forgot to specify the reader’s house! 😭 Also I didn’t do a whole lot of set up, let’s pretend their slightly older in Order of The Phoenix and this is set in when they’re staying in Sirius’ place? -S

———————————————————————

(Y/N) rapped quietly on the door, she supposed knocking on the door at all kind of defeated the purpose of trying to be quiet, so she abandoned her efforts and attempted to open the wooden door with minimal squeaking. “Harry? Are you up?”

Harry was quick to appear and open the door for her to come into the room. Honestly, he felt kind of bad, because it had been his intention to come to her. She had just beat him to it, but he supposed that wasn’t too surprising; she had always seemed to be more sure of herself than Harry had. “Yeah, come in. I was just about to go look for you.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Harry was probably her best friend...or maybe Hermione, but that would only because she couldn’t share EVERYTHING with Harry (despite her desire to do so). She plopped on the bed and let out a sigh, a dramatic, but justified one. “This is a lot, right?”

“It’s a bit much sure… not entirely bad though?” Harry knew immediately what she’d been referring to. A bombshell for sure. One thing they had been able to bond over was the fact that she grew up without her parents, Harry was thankful that she had a much more loving and tolerant aunt and uncle though. She never knew who her father was, and her mother had died around the age of 3. She knew who her father was now though… the notorious Sirius Black.

(Y/N) knew that she had been kept in the dark for her own good. Most people still thought the man was a murderer and she knew her aunt and uncle just didn’t want her to grow up knowing that they shared the DNA. “I mean I guess not… Sirius is cool and all.” It definitely sucked that his name hadn’t been cleared to anyone not in the Order, but while not seemingly knowing a lot about what he was doing he seemed eager to try as much as he would be able to.

“I feel like I’ve been lied to my entire life and I get why they did it, but I wish I would’ve known.” (Y/N) sat up and laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. He’d sat down beside her after she’d laid back. “I suppose nothing really changes that much though.”

He could definitely relate to some extent. Harry constantly felt like he was playing catch-up, and he was always a step behind everyone in knowing about himself and his life. “Right.”

A silence fell over the pair. Harry wasn’t sure what (Y/N) was feeling, but he felt content. She always had a way of making him feel that way. Hermione kept pushing him to say something, and as much as he wanted to he always found a reason not to do so. Now for example would be incredibly inappropriate, she was already so overwhelmed it just wouldn’t be fair to add the weight of his feelings for her onto her shoulders.

“Can I ask you something completely off topic?”

“Anything.”

“Do you like me?” (Y/N) felt bad for blurting out the question. Now probably wasn’t the time and that probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but at that moment it seemed like the most appropriate option.

Poor Harry was happy he didn’t have a mouth full or butter beer or pumpkin juice because there was no doubt that he would’ve probably spit it all over the bedding and the floor. He used to say that they were close enough that she could never surprise him, but that clearly was a lie. He often wondered if she was a Legilimen, because she seemed to have some sort of innate ability to read his mind. She also knew when he was lying to playing dumb probably wouldn’t be too much help in this situation, “Uh...yeah. Hermione says it's bloody obvious.”

(Y/N) chuckled and smiled, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it, “She says the same to me if it makes you feel any better.”

“You fancy me?” Harry always had a small suspicion, he didn’t think that Hermione would be constantly trying to get him to confess his feelings if she thought it would end badly, but still he had his doubts.

“You might be the chosen one, but you can be pretty thick sometimes…” She sighed and lifted her head from his shoulder. When he turned to see what was wrong she just planted a soft kiss on his lips. He immediately melted into it, he didn’t need to be told twice to kiss her back. He’d been thinking about doing it so long that it just seemed second nature.

Their foreheads stayed pressed together even when the urge to break away to breathe came. Her eyes were still closed, but Harry kept his open (he just needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream). “Would it be too soon to say that I’m in love with you?”

“I don’t think I’d use the word soon at all.” (Y/N) teased with a soft laugh.

Harry pulled the girl back in for another kiss, the second was even better than the first (which he hadn’t previously thought to be possible). She tasted like mint toothpaste, which probably now his favorite flavor as his tongue swept across hers. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, an act partially meant to pull him closer and partially meant to keep a grip on him so that when she laid down he’d come tumbling down with her.

Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and she found herself mildly impressed with Harry’s ability to gracefully follow her. His body resting between her legs and his hands on either side of her head. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself further into him, earning a small groan. Her lips curled into a smile against his skin, and she set herself on a mission to elicit a similar reaction, but not before whispering to him, “You have to be quiet, apparently my dad is in the other room.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but soon found himself forgetting what she’d said. Instead he was more focused on the feathery light kisses being trailed down from his cheek to his neck. He took a deep breath when she began to kiss his neck, her ministrations on the skin a new and very enjoyable experience. He didn’t even notice her hands sneaking under his shirt. He shivered slightly from her cold hands, but relaxed into her touch when she ran her palms across his chest and torso. “Whatever you’re doing for Quidditch is clearly working.” She hummed into his ear.

Harry chuckled and leaned up, pulling his shirt over his head and then helping her out of hers. He was kind of shocked by how not nervous he was. There was just something about her, he doubted there was anything in the world she could do to make him think less of her and he just had a hunch she felt the same (or least that’s the way she made him feel). There was little light in the bedroom, but he could still see her (barely, but he could). He hadn’t even thought about the fact they were in her pajamas and she probably wouldn’t be wearing a bra… she definitely wasn’t and he felt his voice catch in the back of his throat.

“This is the part where you tell me how good I look.” (Y/N) whispered playfully to him. She worried that perhaps she might’ve been ruining the moment with so much talking, but she also knew that Harry was aware she liked to make jokes to ease her own nerves. He was often the only one not taken aback by the sometimes poorly time sentiments.

“You’re bloody gorgeous.” His voice held no trace of jest and he didn’t even give her a chance to respond before he went back in for another kiss. The kiss was chaste, because honestly he wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. When his lips met the skin of her neck (Y/N) found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her voice down. However, whenever he dipped lower and found her chest the action was futile. A sharp gasp tore through her throat at the new sensation and when to shower her breasts in kisses she no longer found holding back a moan a possible option.

The sound was like music to Harry’s ears and he began to crave hearing more like it was a song stuck in his head. He switched between her right and left nipple, carefully trying to pay the same amount of attention to each one, and he only found himself willing to stop whenever she rolled her hips upward and brushed herself against the erection he was now painfully aware of. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what was exactly expected of him. He definitely wasn’t entirely stupid on the subject, he knew WHAT happened, but maybe he was skipping an important step in the foreplay that he wasn’t aware of. He didn’t have much time to think too much about it, because (Y/N) wiggled out from under him. He would’ve been worried that he’d done something wrong, but when she began to shed the rest of his clothes those thoughts abandoned his mind. Really the only thoughts left in his head was her… and how she looked. Completely bare. In front of him. Merlin, he wasn’t sure there was ever a sight more beautiful and he doubted he’d ever be able to think of anything else.

“Care to join me?” (Y/N) hoped she wasn’t being too forward. This really was probably too soon… they’d just had their first kiss not even an hour ago and now she was lying on his bed completely naked. She’d been imagining this for far more than a few hours though. It was definitely not a fleeting thought… well it wasn’t to her. She hoped Harry felt the same.

“Oh! Yeah!” It occurred to him how lame it must’ve been that he was just sitting there looking at her and he quickly shed his left over layers too. Now they were both naked, and still just staring.

“This is okay with you right?” She drew closer to him again, careful not to touch him until she was sure that he also wanted this.

“Yes.” He thought she was bloody insane to even ask him that, but he wouldn’t say that to her (at least not right then).

That was all she wanted to hear, (Y/N) kissed him again, but this time it was different. It was full of anticipation and desire and their lips just moved together instinctively, because they were both too focused on the feeling of their bodies being pressed together.

This time (Y/N) didn’t have to pull Harry on top of her, this time he carefully laid her down and hovered over her. The tip of his cock brushed against her core and he was worried that he’d lose it right then and there. She whimpered and raised her hips to meet him. Their eyes locked and there wasn’t a need for words to ask permission or any questions. They both knew this was exactly what they wanted. Harry reached between them and drug the tip of his cock across her folds, his eyes closed when he slowly began to press himself into her.

Immediate pleasure washed over Harry and to put it bluntly it was far better than any late night with his hand. (Y/N) felt it too, not quite as intensely as she was still adjusting to the foreign feeling of being so completely stretched by him. The thought alone made her shift her hips. He was trying not to give into the desire to just completely ruin her, the thought had crossed his mind more than once if he was being honest and now that he was presented with the actual opportunity he was doing his best to be a gentleman.

“Harry,” He had always enjoyed hearing her say his name, and this was no exception. It was at least 10 times better when it came out more of a moan than an actual word, “Move already.”

He grunted a bit at the order, but obliged nonetheless. He pulled out slowly and then resheathed himself in her again. Each time a little faster and every little whimper or moan that came from her lips egged him on ever more. It didn’t take long for the somewhat uncomfortable feeling to completely disappear and soon her weak noises became a little louder. Harry would’ve been happy to have her screaming his name, the noise echoing through the hallways, but she was right. Her father was in the other room, as well as other people who would not approve of their display of affection.

“We have.. To be.. Quiet… remember?” His sentence was broken up by the thrusting of his hips, unable to find enough concern to completely stop his movements. Knowing he was right (Y/N) roughly kissed him. She wasn’t entirely sure that it would keep the noises at bay, but it was the only thing that she could say would have the potential to work at the moment. She was getting close, she could feel something like a spring in her body being twisted tighter and tighter with every thrust and then POP. A wave of relief and pleasure erupted through her body and a moan that sounded more like a strangled sob was let out. As cliche as it sounded, it completely undid Harry and he held her close, his face buried into her shoulder as he found the same pleasure she did and his hips stilled.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“That was my first time.”

“Mine too.” He answered honestly.

“We’re pretty good at this.” She let out a quiet laugh as Harry pulled himself out of her and collapsed on the bed. She laid down beside him, her head resting on his chest.

“Honestly… I think we could go for a bit more practice.”

[itsthemoofacewriting]

The way she’s pulling you in

Good grief. I am the biggest pervert. Look away children, this is explicit.

It all came from my other story where I, on the spot, created a headcanon that Sanji would most definitely have a wank bank and it would be overflowing with Nami. (The other story isn’t posted yet, but it’s on the way and has nothing to do with this btw)

Summary: Nami was seductive, alluring, the sexiest person he’d ever seen in his life. He wasn’t proud, but it helped him in his private moments when it was just him and his hand. Rating: M. NSFW. 

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN. 

Enjoy!

Nami was seductive, alluring, the sexiest person he’d ever seen in his life. He wasn’t proud, but it helped him in his private moments when it was just him and his hand. NSFW.

Explicit, wank bank, sexual fantasies, masturbating, accidental exhibitionism, kinda, Sanji’s ridiculously attracted to Nami but what’s new, look at these tags, there is shame this time

Title: Wish you were here, With her sweetened breath, I take a moment, In the shape of you, Made your mark on me, The way that she’s pulling you in, I want to taste her lips,

The pantry was his safe haven.

He was pretty sure the crew forgot it even existed most of the time, but that was because it was tiny, cramped and didn’t hold anything of interest. However, for him, in those… private moments, it was ideal. The toilet never an option because someone always wanted to use it and he liked to take his time. So, all he had to do was wait for Luffy’s second snack of the night and he was out like a light. It worked like clockwork.

Which was exactly how he found himself towards the back of the pantry on a little stool between the bags sugar and flour, already palming himself through the material of his trousers. He was particularly desperate today; it’d been a while since he’d been able to do this and Nami had been particularly sexy today walking around in a skimpy white bikini. It’d been a feast for the eyes. Paired with the way he was sure she was touching him more, hanging around him more and this was well overdue.

To be fair, all she had to do was breath and it was too much for him.

He’ll be honest, he wasn’t sure how he held it together, but all he knew was he didn’t have to now as he undid his belt, zipper and shimmied his trousers down to his ankles. There was already a wet spot on the front of his underwear.

The first touch was bliss and he had to hold himself back from going too fast, already too desperate but unwilling for it to be over that quickly. The second touch and he was picturing Nami from today, in the white skimpy bikini and what laid beneath it. He already knew what did, the image haunted him in the best way possible. Perky, creamy breasts with dusty pink nipples that was wanted to bury his head in between and worship like they deserved to be.

That train of thought led to an outfit that made her breasts look phenomenal, whilst also putting them at risk of spilling out at any moment. But it wasn’t just her breasts though; it was her whole body. The present from the people of Zou, who he never got a chance to thank for blessing him with that view. The purple dress.

He wasn’t even sure if she had the purple dress anymore, but a man could dream, and he certainly did. The way it’d hung on her, draped over all her curves, and teased him from the low cut that showed off her breasts so well to the high cut that displayed long creamy legs and revealed that she definitely wasn’t wearing underwear underneath. It was a heart stopping dress, one that made him want to do naughty things with her. More than normal.

He couldn’t remember how many times he’d done this with the image of her in that dress. Countless times, to the point that he was wondering if it was a kink at that this stage. He knew if she ever wore it again, he’d cream his pants there and then.

Using slow, steady stokes had been abandoned the moment he thought about that purple dress, and he had to bite back the gasp when his hand circled the head of his cock, pre cum already oozing out.

And as his hand pumped down to the base, squeezing slightly as he got lost in his daydream, with the thought of just Nami melting away into him and Nami fooling around in the cramped pantry instead.

He’d be in the same spot, but instead she’d be gathered on his lap, straddling him, and so close that he wouldn’t be able to see anything other than her. He’d kiss down the soft skin of her neck as he uttered sweet nothings into her skin, drinking in her gasps.

She’d roll her hips into his and all her bashfulness would disappear at the stiffness in his trousers, instead replaced by a seductive look that promised naughty things. It made him feel heady.

He imagined the way her lithe hands would feel over his cock, the silk of her hands contrasting against the callouses she’d have acquired over the years, the press of her breasts against his chest but mostly, the steamy lidded look she’d give him. He’d seen it time and time again whenever she wanted something, but this would be genuine, filled with desire for him and only him. She’d pant his name in a breath and it would play over his face teasingly.

His hands would be free to roam, along supple thighs to her rounded behind. She’d gasp when he gave it an appreciative caress, but it would be nothing compared to when he got his hands on her breasts. He’d tease her nipples, bringing them to a point, and then roll them between his thumb and finger. Her hand would stutter over his cock, but that’d be fine because the sound of her breathy gasp of his name would be more than enough.

Sanji threw his head back, thumping against the wall of the pantry, gasping and the room was filled with the wet sound of his hand moving over his cock. His hand glided with how much pre-cum there was, almost no friction, and he imagined that’d be her wetness instead, all over his hands from working her up and then his cock as he slid into her.

He’d have her on her back, so he could watch her breasts bounce as he thrusted into her again and again. But it would be nothing compared to her face, the flush across her cheeks, the tears building in the corner of her eyes at the pleasure he brought her and the way she’d be tumbling over her words, between moaning and calling out for him. The way she’d tell him how good he made her feel.

There was no rhythm anymore, his hand moving frantically over his cock as his thoughts turned filthier by the second, his other hand going to cup his balls, rolling them as pleasure shot through his back and a heaviness settled in his stomach. He wouldn’t last much longer; he could feel himself winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

It certainly didn’t help when he then thought about her sitting on his face, a thought always saved towards the end because there was nothing that turned him on more than the thought of tasting her or bringing her the utmost pleasure. His view would be partially blocked but he’d be smothered in all her glory, thighs cushioned either side of his head as he gave her a front row seat to a toe-curling orgasm. She could roll her hips however she wanted as his hands on her behind encouraged her to find the best angle and he’d be buried in her-

“Nami-san!” He called out, unable to hold it in any longer, his hand moving furiously, and this was it.

And it almost was it, until he heard footsteps from the kitchen.

“Sanji-kun?” His heart stopped. The voice he’d been imagining just moments ago, but much breathier, more desperate than this real-life version calling out to him.  

No. No. No.

The door to the pantry cracked open. “What are you do-” Her voice trailed off as she took in the dishevelled state of Sanji.

It was like a nightmare. To his utmost horror, there was the object of his affections, the lead star in his dirtiest daydreams, stood at the door looking back at him. She wouldn’t be able to see everything from that angle, but she’d be able to piece it together and he watched it happen in slow motion.

As she took in his state, from the flushed cheeks to his rumpled clothing, her confusion melted into understanding. Her eyes widened, face flushing in embarrassment and mouth agape from the shock. It was a far cry from the lusty one he’d been imagining just moments ago.

And all he could do was gape at her in disbelief. Hands still down his pants and his dick had never been more confused; unsure whether to deflate from pure embarrassment or stay standing strong because the very reason for his arousal was right in front of him. In a skimpy top that didn’t help his dilemma either.

It was abundantly clear what he was doing in the middle of the night, and there was no way she didn’t not hear him just call out for her. So, there they were, both distinctly aware that he had been masturbating and to the to the thought of her no less. Great.

She seemed to come alive then, the shock subsiding. “Oh, oh! I should’ve- you’re-” her scattered speech and hand gesture in his direction was mortifying. That she was referencing it, he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.  

He’d never seen her so flustered.

“Nami-” he strained out, trailing off because he hadn’t figured out how that sentence was going to end before he’d started speaking. But he had to say something. Do something.  

“No, no!” She said, voice sounding panicked, and her eyes were now intent on looking around the room, at everything other than him, which was concerning but a relief at the same time. “It’s my fault… I shouldn’t have barged in. I… should’ve knocked?”

Oh god.

There was a long silence, and he was still tongue tied. At this point he had no idea how he was still looking at her.

“I’m just-” she pointed into the kitchen, now looking down at the box of coffee opposite her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she squeaked and then she was gone. He heard her hurried footsteps across the kitchen floor, door flinging open and closing with a loud slam.

Then there was only silence. He was alone again.

His hand still on his dick, which was now half hard from the mixed signals but holding on like a trooper. He was nowhere near as turned on as he had been before and now that she knew, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t possibly finish now without feeling anything other than shame.

What had he done?

The next morning at breakfast, neither could look at the other.

-----------------------------

Welp. What do I even say? This idea just wouldn’t leave me alone and it was so easy to write! Which probably doesn’t help my case here.

Just to add whilst I drown in my sins, my friend Ray started a SaNami discord group. It’s a chill place to chat and share your love for this pairing. If you’d like to join, message me on here or twitter and I’ll send you the link. Please feel free to join, the more the merrier!

Please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading (this filth).

[rina-writes]

Mom and Dad

Summary: In the same way that Grayson jokes about being the dad, you are the “mom” friend.  It never occurred to you how strange this was until you and your close friend Grayson are babysitting your cousin and someone actually mistakes you for a family.

Genre/Warnings: Fluffy, Secret Crush, Baby Fever

A/N:  This is a concept I thought of that I forced into a fic.  I’ve been obsessed with 90s aesthetic (particularly film and media and the “grainy” filters) so I am also adding some pictures that inspired me. I don’t own any rights to these pictures and thank you to these beautiful people for inspiring this fic! 

You first met the twins on one of their trips back home to Jersey.  You were visiting a family friend who happened to live near their house.  It was super early in their YouTube careers, so you only knew from your family friend that the boys had dropped out school, moved to LA, and made videos online.  Like most people hearing this, you assumed the Dolans were a privileged family with spoiled kids that only worried about when their next trust fund payment would hit their account.  You were pleasantly surprised when, upon hearing that you were visiting, the Dolan family welcomed you into their home and threw a little barbecue for you and your folks.  Not only were the boys down-to-earth, but they were also kind and easy to be around.  You became fast friends and often spent time together when they came to visit.

It would be a lie to say that they didn’t play a role in you deciding to move to LA for college.  They talked about LA so much, that you always wanted to live there.  The couple times you visited, the twins showed you how much fun sunshine could be, even if you missed the four seasons of the northeast. 

It would also be a lie to say that BOTH the twins were your motivation for wanting to move to the sunny state.  You were a bit partial to the younger, but larger twin, Grayson.  The way you would describe your connection was that you and Ethan were similar, but you and Grayson were compatible. You agreed on the things that mattered, but you and Grayson balanced each other out. Where he was impulsive, you were calculated.  Where you came off aloof, he was gregarious.  You liked to think you brought out the best in each other.  You had a small crush on Grayson, but it was one of those crushes you only felt when you were near to him.  When you were back in school, you didn’t think about him that much.  However, when you hung out at their house or went out to grab a bite, you were completely consumed by him. His hair, his eyes, his laugh, his large hands...everything about him seemed to be crafted by the heavens.  

You didn’t want your feelings to get in the way of your friendship, so you never told anyone how you felt.  Of course, some people figured it out.  Most girls around the Dolan twins fell for either of them. They had that effect on people because they would make you seem like the most important person in the world.  Grayson definitely catered to you more than Ethan. It didn’t help your feelings for him, as you often spent time together doing menial tasks.  That’s why you weren’t entirely surprised when Grayson offered to help you babysit your cousin.  It was a combination of two things Grayson enjoyed: helping people and pretending to be a dad.

Your cousins were visiting you in LA from Jersey.  Your first cousin and his husband recently adopted a toddler named Monica.  While they were excited to have her in their life, you knew that your cousins needed some alone time.  You encouraged them to build a couple’s day full of activities from the spa to dining at an exclusive restaurant.  To ensure they could some of alone time, you would watch Monica for a few hours.  It took quite a bit of convincing, like most new parents, they were attached to their kid. After multiple conversations, and almost begging, you finally convinced them to let you take her out for a fun day in Los Angeles.

You mentioned it casually the night before you were going to pick her up.  You were at dinner with the twins and a few of their friends.  Grayson’s eyes sparkled instantly.

“I can help you with Monica.” He grinned widely.  “We can take her to this new museum for kids.  It’s free entry on Saturday mornings.”

“Why do you know that?” Ethan asked, yelling at his brother despite sitting next to him.

“I saw an article about it...” Grayson yelled back. “Some people read about the news Ethan.”

“O-kay” Ethan put up his hands as he rolled his eyes.  “Trying to show off for Y/N because she’s in college or whatever.  I see you.”

“I’m not...” Grayson said, his voice getting softer as he glanced at you. 

“Well, it works out.” Ethan shrugged.  “You’re such a mom, Y/N.  I can’t get over that Snap! The one where you were tipsy, but still  putting all the girls in your sorority to bed.  You braided that one girl’s hair!”

You blushed as there was a chorus of laughter from the table. “Oh come, on! I’m not a mom, I’m just responsible.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Grayson reassured you.  “I have to take care of Ethan all the time.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at Grayson. “You don’t take care of me...”

Grayson opened his mouth to argue, but you put up a hand to stop him.  Once those two got started, nothing could get them to shut up.

“Tomorrow then?” You smiled, nodding at Grayson.

“Tomorrow!” Grayson confirmed nodding back.  There was a moment where you locked eyes like there was some weird secret between you too, but neither of you seemed to know what it was.  Blushing, you both awkwardly sipped your beverages until someone changed the subject.

When you went to pick Monica up the next morning, you were greeted by big hugs from your cousins. 

“Oh my goodness, Y/N” Your cousin said, looking at you while picking up Monica. In the background, his husband put the final items in Monica’s travel bag.  “Is that your mom’s shirt? I remember her wearing something similar back in the day.”

You laughed and nodded, looking down at the thin, emerald green sweater with four adjacent squares in red, yellow, blue and pink going across the bust. You pulled it down to cover your leggings that stopped at your ankles above your dark slip on shoes. 

“I stole it from the attic.  It’s kind of my style right now.” You grinned.  “Do you like the hat?”

“The beret.” Your cousin’s husband corrected as he leaned over to tilt it to the side. “I believe that was your mother’s too.”

Your cousin and his husband had dated for a long time before getting married.  They practically grew up together, so naturally, your cousin’s husband also knew your family too.  It reminded you a bit of you and Grayson. Except, the dating and married part, of course.

“You got me!” You shrugged, laughing again.  “The lady has great style what can I say?”

“Alright,” Your cousin sighed as he gave Monica a final hug. His husband kissed Monica’s cheek before your cousin handed her to you. 

You took the little girl in your arms.  She had a bit of weight to her, but she was still quite small.  She was close to your complexion, with large eyes and a tiny mouth. She was quiet, constantly observing and didn’t seem to react to anything, not even being handed off to an almost complete stranger.  You made a mental note to make sure she was by your side at all times. 

“You have your pull-ups, your snacks, your wash cloths, your bandaids....” Your cousin tapped the bag on his husband’s shoulder.  “You have it all! Anything you need, do not hesitate to call us.”

“Don’t worry!” You comforted them.  “It’s only six hours.  I’ve babysat for 12 hours and that was for three very....not nice children.  Monica has veteran babysitter with her today.”

“You know we trust you!” Your cousin smiled.  “We just know how much of a doozy it can be to take care of a toddler.  Besides, I think we’re getting a bit of parent separation anxiety.”

You shifted Monica to your hip and reached out for the travel bag. “And she will be back in your arms in six hours! Make sure you are rejuvenated and relaxed when you meet her.”

“Well if you insist...” Your cousin joked, not without taking another longing look at his daughter

“Are you sure you can take both?” Your cousin’s husband asked as he prepared to hand you the travel the bag.  “While she may try to trick you into carrying her everywhere, she can walk.” He added a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  You nodded.  Just as you were about to take the bag, you heard a knock on the door.

Given that it was a hotel, the three adults looked at each other with confusion.  Your cousin opened the door to see a nervously smiling Grayson waving at you.

“Sorry I’m late.” Grayson apologized stepping in.  “I didn’t want to take the Porsche so I borrowed a car from one of my editors.  It took longer than I expected.”

“No worries.” You smiled, “But I thought we would meet at the museum?”

“I figured you would need some help.” Grayson grinned. “No sense taking a Uber if I have a car.”

Grayson looked around and upon seeing the travel bag made a soft ‘oh’ sound as he took it from your cousin. 

“Oh, this is Grayson.” You introduced Grayson to your family.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Your cousin’s husband asked after shaking Grayson’s hand.

“No,” You laughed softly, hoping it sounded natural and not panicked/secretly thrilled, “He’s a family friend who lives out here in LA.”

“I’m family, and I don’t remember him being a friend.” Your cousin quirked a brow.

You could see Grayson’s face turning red and you cleared your throat. 

“I think we should get going before the museum is no longer free, huh?” You said, changing the subject before the interrogation continued.

“Ha, good idea!” Grayson said, catching on quickly.

“Be safe you two!” Your cousin called as Grayson held the door for you.  

You smiled as Grayson led you to the car.  He was a little dressed up with a long sleeved white shirt, tucked into his dark jeans with a designer belt.  You were so used to seeing him fully casual with no shirt and the tiniest shorts.  It made your heart melt that he had gotten dressed up for Monica.  

Grayson put Monica’s travel bag in the trunk of the black sedan, before running over to open the door for you.

“Take your time.” You told him.  “We’re in no rush, right Mo?” You asked Monica, who was sucking her thumb and taking in her surroundings.

You eyebrows went up in surprise when you saw a car seat in the back seat.

“Ace Family...” Grayson explained, blushing softly.  “I read that young kids should always have a car seat and I wasn’t sure if your cousin had one.”

“I think she usually just sits in someone’s lap.” You bit your lip.  “But, I’m sure this is way safer.  This is so thoughtful, Grayson!”

Grayson beamed at your words. It warmed your heart when he gave you the large goofy smile.  It was his natural one when he wasn’t posing for pictures or trying to look hot.  The smile that only came out when he was really happy.

You watched as Monica fidgeted in the car seat, making it almost impossible for Grayson to buckle her in.  He started to sweat, the stains appearing under his armpits and you fought back a chuckle.

“Let me try?” You offered.

“Uh sure...” Grayson bashfully moved away, watching you as you distracted Monica with the jingling bracelet on your left wrist while you used your right hand to buckle the first clip.  Monica reached for one of your charms and you took the opportunity to clasp the other belt that finished the part on her waist.

“Hands up!” You said, excitedly, secretly surprised that Monica followed your direction, but also happy she did since Grayson looked so impressed.

You buckled the seat belt that went over her body and leaned back to look at her.

“Feeling good, Monica?” You asked.

She nodded softly, looking off in the distance.

“Give me a wiggle.” And you shook your shoulders.

She glanced at you and mimicked you with the same emotionless expression.

Grayson laughed. “She is actually the cutuest.”

“I know right?” You said, looking at him with your lower lip jutted out, a pout in reaction to her cuteness.

Monica looked between the two of you before turning her attention back to whatever outside the window seemed to be so interesting.  She was probably the most laid back toddler you ever met.  This was going to be easy.

“Should I introduce myself?” Grayson asked nervously.

“Honestly, I should probably introduce myself too.” You laughed.  “She was just kinda handed to me.”

You leaned over to be in front of Monica and she turned slightly to give you her attention.

“Now, I’m Y/N.” You said, putting a hand on your chest.  “We met last year, but you probably don’t remember.”

You put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder.  “This is Grayson.”

Grayson stuck out his hand for a handshake and you sputtered laughter.

“Grayson, she’s three she won’t...”

Monica took Grayson’s hand and he shook, giving you a smug expression.

“You were saying?” Grayson asked making you roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay...” You put your hands up. “You’re pretty good with kids...so far!”

You pointed at him, to emphasize that he hadn’t won you over just yet.  

“You just wait, Y/N.” Grayson said, walking to the driver’s seat. You followed suit, and walked to the passenger seat.

“I’ll be such a good a dad, you’ll be calling me Daddy.” Grayson winked, and glanced at you to see your shocked expression. “Oh good god, not like that.”

You laughed, punching him lightly. “I’m just kidding, Gray. I know what you meant.” 

“Oh sure laugh it up.” Grayson said, rolling his eyes as he started to drive. You glanced at him and the tips of his ears were still red from blushing.  So cute...

When you arrived at the museum, Monica’s personality busted out. She loved the exhibits where she could touch stuff, enjoying the slime the most.  You spent about 45 minutes just watching her sticking her hand in goop.  You and Grayson took turns holding her and helping her make shapes with the material.  You took pictures of Grayson, your heart melting seeing his genuine happiness playing with Monica. Every time she made her little toddler giggle, Grayson’s smile double in size.  You were going to treasure these photos forever.  

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You said to Grayson, who gave a quick nod.

You smiled and walked to the bathroom.  After doing your business, you inspected your face.  You dug into your bag and went to apply lip gloss.  You fixed your hat a few times, still not sure if it really went with your hairstyle.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A woman about your mom’s age alerted you.

“Hi?” You turned around and you eyes widened to see Monica holding the woman’s hand, sucking her thumb.

“Monica...what...” You reached down to pick Monica up and the lady smiled softly. You were about to ask for an explanation, but the lady quickly provided one.

“Your husband said you were in here and your daughter wanted to use the bathroom.  He said you would be the girl fixing her beret in the mirror.”

You blushed and laughed softly.  “My husband, huh?” You shook your head.”Well thank you...”

“Come on, Monica.” You said to Monica who was holding on to your shoulder with her free hand.  “Let’s go potty.”

You helped Monica use the bathroom, realizing that Grayson did not provide you with the travel bag, so you had to clean her up without the fancy wipes and creams you cousins packed. 

With both of your hands washed, you escorted Monica out the bathroom who, the moment she was out, ran to Grayson who was waiting across the hall.  He picked her up and she held on to him, resuming sucking on her finger.

“I forgot you would need this.” Grayson said, gesturing to the bag on his shoulder, while he shifted Monica’s weight to your hip.

“I know, my husband is so silly.” You narrowed your eyes.

“What did you want me to say?” Grayson said, looking around embarrassed.  “Monica started crying all of a sudden saying she couldn’t hold it.  I ran with her to the bathroom, but I couldn’t walk in and I wasn’t going to take her into the guy’s room.  So, I started to explain that you were in there and she was like “Oh I’ll take her to your wife.” I didn’t want to correct her...it felt like a bad time.”

“I’m just relieved that Monica didn’t announce she had two dads.” You laughed.  “Might have been a little awkward to explain with my husband waiting outside the door.”

“Yikes,” Grayson said, making a face. “Though, I am sorry. I didn’t realize it would put you in such a predicament.”

“It’s fine!” You tried to assuage his worries, laughing. “I mean, we’re like 20...it’s her fault for thinking this was our kid. And that we were married. She’s the weirdo”

“I dunno...” Grayson said, looking at the three of you in the reflection of one of the displays. “It’s not the weirdest thing in the world. Being assumed to be married to me?”

You noticed a bit of bite in his tone and you frowned.  “You’re not the problem, Gray.  I’m just saying we are a little young.”

Grayson didn’t say anything to you in response. Instead, he asked Monica if she wanted to go to the dinosaur exhibit again, another favorite of hers.  She started bouncing up and down, and Grayson carried her toward the exhibit.  You scurried to keep up, confused at what you said to tick him off.  When you arrived, you saw there was a show for the kids.  It was one of those shows where there was a “dinosaur expert” and some people in dinosaur costumes explaining each of the species.

Grayson put Monica down in front and went to stand in the back with the other parents.  He was staring straight ahead, pretending to be very invested.  You could tell he was pretending because his eyes were glazing over. 

“G-Gra--” You started to say, but then his phone started to vibrate.

Grayson glanced down and ignored the spam call, showing his background. The background was of you playing with Monica in the slime.  You blushed and pretended not to notice. Suddenly, it made sense why Grayson was so huffy.  You didn’t want to get too excited, because you were still not 100% sure it was true.

“Hey,” You nudged him. “You’re going to be a great dad one day.”

Grayson glanced at you before looking forward. “Thanks...”

“While, I’m not ready to be a 20 year old mom,” You bit your lip, “I would be down to date one of my best friends...”

Grayson whipped his head to stare at you and you smiled. You unlocked your phone to show your wallpaper, a picture of him playing with Monica.

“Huh,” Grayson smirked. “I didn’t realize how creepy that is until I see it on someone else’s phone.”

“It’s only creepy if you’re not dating the person.” You smiled.

Grayson bit his lip and chuckled. “Thank goodness we’re changing that.”

Your eyes widened.  “Are you asking me out?”

“At the dinosaur musical...” Grayson said, gesturing to the stage.  “Of course, the only place where mom friends and dad friends can truly be ourselves.”

You laughed and Grayson continued to scold himself out loud for being the lamest person ever.

“Would it be weird to kiss someone at a dinosaur musical?” You asked, glancing down at the floor.

Grayson tried to hide his smile, but it was stretching across his face too quickly. He cupped your cheek and pecked your lips softly. As he began to pull away, you started to kiss back, keeping you two connected for a few more seconds.

“That was nice...” You said, smiling. “Really nice.”

Grayson put his arm around you and kissed your forehead lightly.  You both turned toward the show and watched for a bit before Grayson leaned in and asked,

“Can we tell E we started dating tomorrow?” He looked away as he continued to speak forcing you to lean in to hear him. “I don’t want him to know I finally made a move at a freaking dinosaur musical.”

You laughed and grabbed the sides of his jaw to turn him to face you. “Maybe, but you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

Grayson gave you a mischievous grin as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. His eyes bore into yours causing the heat to rise to your cheeks. You blushed more as Grayson’s voice, suddenly deepening to whisper said,

“Remember that conversation about you calling me Daddy...”

[obwjam]

Ok so I loved your ‘Anakin gets shrunk’ thing but now I’m also imagining a scenario in which the tiny is suddenly as tall as their giant friends.

AH THANK U i’m glad you liked it 🥺🥺 but also yes i think about this all the time too..... mayhaps it would go something like this

————

It happened suddenly, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where only a few people were paying attention because nobody thought it was going to work. They had finally made significant progress on their mission to reverse engineer the Separatist weapon that shrunk Anakin Skywalker to just a few inches tall, and a few members of the Jedi Council were eager to see if the nonstop work had paid off. Standing near him was Jayla, his lifelong tiny friend who had helped keep Anakin sane during the worst month of his life. There was a non-zero chance this antidote wasn’t going to work, so she was on standby in case something went wrong.

It worked, though. Maybe a little too well.

There was a blinding light that filled the medical bay as the growth ray was activated. Anakin felt like his body was being torn apart before the pain melted and his eyes adjusted to the room. Wow, everything is so much brighter.

“Anakin!” came the excited and relieved voice of Obi-Wan.

“Did... did it work?” Anakin asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, thank the Force, it did— oh my...”

Sitting on the table to Anakin, there was a new person in the room. It was Jayla, who was no longer four inches tall and instead seemed to be taller than even the five-and-a-half-foot Ahsoka. A splitting headache was all that was left after the fire in her body subsided. No matter how many times she blinked, she couldn’t see clearly.

Anakin turned, following Obi-Wan’s gaze. His jaw just about hit the floor. “What the...”

“Ugh, why do I feel so—woah...” Jayla slurred through her words, and her voice suddenly sounded like she was screaming. It felt like the words were traveling from her brain to her mouth in slow motion. Through the pain in her head, she strained her eyes to try and make out the figures in front of her. She took a shortened breath. Why did everything feel so closed in?

A concerned Jayla? was the only thing she heard before her eyes rolled back and she passed out right on the table.

Anakin and Obi-Wan rushed to help her as Ahsoka, Yoda, Plo Koon and Mace Windu watched in subdued shock.

Ahsoka was the one to break the silence. “Uhm... what just happened?”

Nobody really had an answer. They threw out speculations as Anakin stood at Jayla’s bedside, making sure she was okay. It didn’t take long for her eyes to start fluttering.

Anakin waved his hand and shushed the group as Jayla stirred awake. At first, her eyelids remained heavy and she could barely make out what she was seeing. But suddenly, the face in front of her took shape. Anakin was shockingly close to her, and yet, he didn’t look big at all. It must not have worked.

“Anakin...” she muttered, finding her voice. “What happened? I got the worst headache... oh kriff, that thing didn’t work, did it?”

“Jay,” Anakin cut her off. “It... it did work.”

Jayla blinked, thoroughly confused. “Um, are you joking? You’re still tiny.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Then why—“ she started, but once she looked over to where Obi-Wan’s voice was coming from, she nearly swallowed her tongue. Obi-Wan was eye-level, but he wasn’t bending down, and his face didn’t take up her entire view. In fact, he was several feet away, but it felt like he was right next to her. She tried to reach into the Force to figure out what was going on, but she flinched away when a thousand different sensations flooded her mind. It hurt almost as bad as the headache.

“Take it easy!” Anakin cautioned as Jayla shot up, her eyes wide. Stars flashed briefly in her vision. Her limbs felt like jelly. “You don’t look so good.”

“Stop, stop...” Jayla squeezed her eyes shut as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You’re talking too loud.”

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, a look of concern passing between them. The Jedi in the corner stayed put, partially so they didn’t startle Jayla and partially because they were still in shock.

Jayla stared at her feet and took a few deep breaths as she allowed the world around her to normalize in her brain. Even though the floor was so far away from her now, she could still see it in excruciating detail. She swung her legs a few times, gasping when the tips of her toes brushed against the cool tile. When she remembered the Jedi standing in the corner of the room, she glanced up, only able to hold eye contact for just a few uncomfortable seconds before moving her head back down. The Force confirmed what seemed too impossible to be true — not only did the antidote grow Anakin back, but it grew her, too.

“I’m... uh. Wow. I’m really... wow,” Jayla breathed, eyes still trained downward. “This is... really weird.”

“How do you feel?” Obi-Wan was now standing next to the bed. His mind was racing to find a potential explanation for what was in front of him.

“Um. Confused,” she said, still getting used to the projection of her voice. She was too afraid to look Obi-Wan in the eye. “Everything feels loud.”

“How can something feel loud?” Anakin questioned.

“I dunno! It’s... it’s like my senses have been dialed up to 100. Like something is bound to happen at any moment.”

“Sounds like you’re just a bit anxious,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t blame you.”

“No no, it’s more than that. Like... like I can hear what’s going on outside the door. All the people walking by, how their footsteps sound. And how Rex is standing in the hallway and trying to act like he’s not nervous but he’s really freaking out ‘cause he doesn’t know why it’s taking so long and he’s assuming it didn’t work. And the medical droid — the one over there, across the room — it’s making some sedative. Mixing bacta with... something green. It smells awful in here, too, and it’s really distracting.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin stared at her in stunned silence for a moment. Neither of them had sensed Rex outside the room, much less what he was feeling, and the medical droid was too far away to make out the labels of what it was mixing. They certainly couldn’t hear anything going on outside of their little huddle. And the room didn’t even have a smell.

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan calmly rubbed his chin, casting a sideways glance at the other Jedi masters in the room. They seemed to all be thinking the same thing. “We can discuss this later, Jayla. Right now, we need to make sure both of your vitals are stable.”

Jayla nodded, again closing her eyes in an attempt to reduce her bubble of perception. She couldn’t take all the noise.

“Ahsoka, please keep Anakin and Jayla company and let me know if there are any anomalies in their readings. Masters, if you don’t mind?” Obi-Wan jerked his head to the door. Yoda, Plo Koon and Mace Windu, who had stayed surprisingly silent through the whole ordeal, followed Obi-Wan into the hall. They were a little astounded to see Rex as described: leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his fingers gripped tightly around his armor. He perked up when he saw the group of Jedi, but didn’t say anything as they moved off to the side. If they didn’t know any better, they would have just assumed he was tense about being in the Jedi Temple.

“I don’t know what to make of this,” Obi-Wan started. “What went wrong?”

“Too close, she was standing, when we fired our antidote,” Yoda said with confidence. “Caught in its range, she was.”

“I agree,” Mace chimed in. “Though that doesn’t explain why it has the exact same effect on her when it was only intended to reverse what had been done to Skywalker.”

“Maybe the effect wasn’t the same. She seems to have this... heightened connection to the Force,” Obi-Wan offered. “I knew she was strong with it before, but now...”

“It seems that the strength of her abilities grew with her physical body,” Plo finished.

“But Skywalker’s connection to the Force was never diminished,” Mace said. “Besides, that’s not how the Force works.”

“Possible, it may be, that this is not a matter concerning the Force,” Yoda said, drawing the attention of the other matters. “Hyper-attentive, her species is. Always like this, she could have been.”

The four Jedi considered that possibility. It made sense on the surface — she had always been quick and perceptive, and seemed to sense things coming before they happened. Now that she was their size, she was just interpreting her surroundings like normal, but on a much bigger scale, which allowed for picking up on things that humans or togrutas or anyone else would miss.

“If that is the case, then I’m afraid our little Jayla is going to be very overwhelmed by her new world,” Obi-Wan posited. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“We don’t even know how long she’ll be like this,” Mace stressed. “The truth of the matter is we have no idea how either of them will react to this antidote in the long-term. We need to keep a close eye on both of them, at all times.”

“Leave that to me,” Obi-Wan said. He was growing increasingly worried about how Jayla was taking all of this. He wanted to be there for her.

“Master Yoda and I can analyze the readings to see if we can find anything helpful,” Plo looked down to Yoda, who nodded in acknowledgment. “It will take some time, but as long as their vitals are stable, I see no reason to keep them cooped up in the temple.”

“We still have this war to deal with,” Mace grumbled. 

“We can’t send them back out there. Especially Jayla. Not yet,” Obi-Wan protested. “We need to run more tests first.”

“With all due respect, Master Kenobi, there’s only so much a medical droid can tell us,” Plo responded. “We may have to see them in action to get a better sense of their boundaries.”

Obi-Wan considered this. “For Anakin, I suppose I agree with that. But we don’t know what our antidote did to Jayla, or what it will do. We should keep her here for a while.”

“She won’t like that,” Plo said.

“It doesn’t matter what she likes or not. We have a responsibility to keep her safe.”

Mace turned to Yoda, who had stayed silent in the debate. “Master Yoda, do you feel comfortable letting Jayla go out on the battlefield with Skywalker and Padawan Tano once she settles down? If she’s really as perceptive as you think, she could be a huge asset.”

Yoda hummed. While the idea of throwing Jayla back into battle like nothing happened felt odd to him and he was concerned with putting too much on her plate, he also agreed with Mace’s reasoning. The situation in the galaxy was dire, and they needed all the Jedi they could get to fight off the growing influence of the dark side. Plus, he knew his former padawan would adamantly refuse to stay in the temple.

“She may go. But careful, we must be. Know not how she will react to such a chaotic environment.”

“Very well, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said. If Yoda thought it was okay, he supposed he could go along with it. “She’ll have me, Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex with her. She’ll be well protected.”

The Jedi all nodded, feeling slightly better about the situation. Obi-Wan watched as the other three filed back into the medbay. He made his way over to Rex, whose anxiety was easily sensible now. He sure had a lot of explaining to do.

————-

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I? I don’t think you understand how weird this is for me right now.”

“No, no, I think I understand perfectly. Did you forget the last month?”

“That was different!”

“Please! I wasn’t going around touching everything like I just woke up from stasis.”

“I’ve never held a book before, okay? I had to see what it was like!”

Anakin and Ahsoka were taking Jayla on a grand re-tour of the Jedi Temple. The place was almost unrecognizable at Jayla’s new height of five feet and eight inches. She didn’t understand how she was still so much shorter than Anakin.

“Come on, master,” Ahsoka dared to interject. “Don’t you think you’re being just a little unfair?”

“Psh, no way. Suddenly being tall is way less awkward than suddenly being small.”

“Is it, though?” Jayla said, finding a windowsill to lean against. She wasn’t used to this much walking. “I feel so... exposed. Everyone can see me now.”

“Isn’t that nice, though?” Ahsoka asked. “I mean, don’t you want people to notice you?”

“I guess...” Jayla trailed off, tracing her finger along her wrist. “It’s just really overwhelming. It feels like everyone’s staring at me.”

“I think they are,” Anakin muttered. Word traveled fast in the walls of the temple.

“I never realized you had a tattoo,” Ahsoka said, noticing for the first time the intricate symbol on Jayla’s wrist.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, it’s something everyone in my village gets. Or, got. Here.” She held her wrist out, still getting used to the fact that it was the same size as everyone else’s. “These symbols here, that’s a language. I never actually got to learn it fully, and I’ve forgotten almost all of it, but it means al’hora dessili. Clan of Al. The animal-looking thing is a corano. It’s part of ancient legend. It symbolizes intuition, which I guess was the trait that was most prevalent in me when I was young.”

“How could they have known?” Ahsoka asked. “I mean, didn’t the council come and find you when you were an infant?” 

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “I think I was almost 10 when they found me.”  She exchanged a knowing glance with Anakin. “And I think it was entirely by accident.” 

Ahsoka blushed. “Oh. I had no idea.”

“That’s by design,” Jayla smirked. “Master Windu was the one who discovered me. Hah, out of all the things I’ve seen, that might have been the scariest day of my life. Even now, when we’re almost the same height, I’m still kinda freaked out by him.” 

A gust of wind caught Jayla’s hair and she lost her words. Something like that used to knock her off her feet, or at the very least, push her back a bit. But now, that breeze was like a kiss on her cheek as she gazed out in wonder at the busy world below. The towers still towered, but in a majestic way instead of an imposing one. Everything seemed within reach.

“Excuse me, sirs.”

The three whipped their heads around to find Rex standing with his helmet resting between his arm and his side. Obi-Wan was deep in conversation with someone else across the way, answering many of the same questions that Rex had posited on the way over.

“Rex,” Anakin smiled. 

“General Skywalker. It’s so good to see you back to normal.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Are you feeling alright? 

“Yeah. A little sore, actually. And just a bit tired. But if that’s what it takes, then I don’t care, because I’m just glad to be me again…”

Anakin trailed off when he realized Rex was no longer listening to him. Once he had locked eyes with Jayla, neither of them could tear their gaze away from the other. They both felt like they were looking at an entirely different person. Jayla’s stomach kept turning.

“Hey, Rex…” Jayla said slowly, as if she had just learned those words and was trying them out for the first time. “You’re, uh. You’re taller than I expected.”

Rex blinked. “I could say the same for you, sir.”

Jayla bit back a smile. “Yeah.”

Several beats of silence followed.

“Well.” Ahsoka could barely take it. “This is awkward.”

Anakin tapped Jayla’s shoulder. “I think she short circuited.”

“I think you should stop poking me,” Jayla retorted, playfully punching Anakin in the shoulder. Well. She thought it was playful.

“Ow! Kriff,” Anakin reeled back. “That hurt, yknow.”

“What? Really? M’sorry,” Jayla stammered, staring at her hand. I didn’t hit him that hard.

“If this is how strong you’re gonna be, then you’ll have to take it easy on the punches,” Anakin jested. “Save it for the Separatists.”

“If that’s how strong I’m gonna be...” Jayla repeated anxiously. “I don’t know how much I like that.”

Rex gave the two Jedi next to him a concerned look. They didn’t need words to know that it was time for one of them to change the subject.

Ahsoka spoke first. “Hey, why don’t we go to the dining hall and get some grub? I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

“Uhm, I don’t really think I should,” Jayla said tentatively, rubbing her neck. “I have no idea what eating food could do to me. Or Anakin, really.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Anakin muttered. “Well, what about the gardens? We still need to finish our grand tour. Rex, why don’t you join us?”

Rex’s face flushed red. “Oh, I--I shouldn’t, sir.”

“Come on, it’ll be nice! How often are you in the Jedi Temple?”

“This is my first time, sir.”

“See? Now you have to come. Jayla thinks it’s her first time in the temple too. You can touch the plants together.”

“Okay, listen--” she started, but stopped when she realized how exhausted she was. Getting angry took up a lot of energy. “Ugh. Can we take it slow? We’ve done so much walking already.”

“We’ve been out of the medbay for an hour!”

“Well, when you suddenly grow 15 times the height you’ve been all your life, you tell me how you feel!” Anakin wanted to keep poking fun, but nothing about that sentence was funny. Jayla sighed. “Sorry. I’m just… really tired.”

“Fresh air will help,” Rex interjected, daring to enter the conversation. “Trust me.”

Jayla gave him a small smile. The butterflies in her stomach were still there, but not as bad as before. “Okay. Let’s go.” She turned to Anakin. “Oh, and I will be touching all the plants.”

Anakin snickered. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, if this is gonna be a long-term thing, then I’m gonna have fun with it. And half the fun comes from annoying you.”

“I wish I could get away with that,” Ahsoka muttered under her breath. 

“Come on, kids! The tour continues!” Anakin waved the group forward. Jayla chuckled and even Rex cracked a smile.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 41)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 VIVI POV 6

Part 42: here

...

VIVI POV:

The flames are kind of mesmerising, with their dancing oranges and yellows, streaked with green and the occasional blue as various materials reacted differently to the heat. It is easy just to stare and let her attention wander, fatigue turning all her worries into background static. Inside the van, various camping implements twist and warp. It is the ache in her leg muscles that eventually pulls her attention back to the present. Her legs are tired from her earlier search for the van and prolonged restless standing. A reminder that she has a long walk back to Pepper Paradiso and her truck. She feels doubly exhausted just thinking about it. 

Vivi glances at Mystery who is also staring into the fire. His expression borders on thoughtfull, lit faintly by the fire. A familiar etherial red light is diffused amongst his fur, barely noticeable alongside the organge glow of the flames. Does the red light mean that Mystery is casting his illusion to hide the fire? She is not sure.

“So what’s the deal with this spiritual residue, physical plane stuff you mentioned earlier? How does that tie into all that stuff about deals, oaths and whatnot?” There is a lot of folklore warning against making deals with supernatural creatures but she wants the actual facts behind it. With her constant vigil at the hospital and Mystery’s own efforts to spy on Milton’s downtown police department, she hasn’t had the opportunity to ask many questions. This is the first time she’s been alone with Mystery and not been distracted chasing around after leads and information related to Arthur’s possession. 

Mystery’s head swings around so he is looking right at her. His eyes are backlit by that same red light which shines out from behind his irises. The effect is made more intense by its association to that night outside Pepper Paradiso. It isn’t exactly the same- it is a lot less angry- but the small comparison makes her shiver. 

Mystery blinks, ears drooping, and looks off to the side. She wouldn’t think a giant, many tailed kitsune could look awkward but Mystery pulls it off. A sudden change in the wind interrupts her next question. Vivi gets a whiff of burning rubber and melting plastic in all it’s this horridness. Mystery also wrinkles his nose in discomfort. The sheer displeasure splashed across his face reminds her of similar expressions he’d make at his dog food. It is crazy to picture him eating dog food after seeing him like this, with his shimmering white fur, almost silver in the moonlight, tails cascading around him both taking up too much space while also taking no space at all. Not even the fancy, expensive dog food. 

/Perhaps we should move further up-wind?/ 

Vivi nods and they shuffle around as much as the enclosed space allows so the smell isn’t coming right at them. It takes her closer to Mystery but she’s happy to discover that it’s a discomfort she’s willing to bare to avoid the stench. Once they’ve found a slightly new location, Mystery speaks again. 

 /Your question is difficult to answer because none of these - spiritual residue, the physical plane or oaths- are simple. / 

“Well, try. Or at least give me the cliff-notes. Something I can actually do something with. Like, how much can I rely on all those stories, legends and myths I have memorised?”

Mystery considers her, eyes softer, red luminescence dimming to barely an ember as he thinks. / Human belief does hold some influence over how spiritual and magical energies manifest, as does any type of will or resolve. Resolve is what shapes these energies, allowing for us non-physical entities to manipulate reality around us. It is what gives oaths and promises their holding power./

 /What is a promise if not the ultimate statement of intention./

“So, it’s a ‘humans believe in fairies so fairies exist’ type scenario?” That would be convenient if only because it would validate all the time she’d spend pouring over old myths and folktales. 

/Partially…/ Mystery’s tails twitch, encircling his paws, and he settles himself into a seated position, and Vivi gets the sense that Mystery is summarising and skipping over a lot of detail for her, / Get enough humans believing in the same story for a few hundred years and it will have tangible effects on the type of creatures that come into being. It will influences how the spiritual and non-physical function on this plane of existence, giving animation to what would otherwise be mindless energy. /

The explanation makes sense, in a way. Vivi frowns, mulling it over, following Mystery’s example and moving to the nearest rock with a semi-flat surface and sitting herself down. So far things were relatively straightforward. Supernatural creatures existed because of some non-physical, extradimensional energy which was shaped by will power. It both explained human religion and mythology, as well as the odd system of bargaining Mystery had walked her through already. Only things were never that simple, were they?

“You are the way you are because of myths and stuff?” Vivi speaks up and falters trying to think of a generic term for ‘supernatural creature,’ realising that Mystery hadn’t put a name to what he or any of them were outside of being partly spiritual, non-physical in nature, “But you said it was only partially true? Where does the partially come into all this?”

/Humans are far from the only creatures that have access to the resolve and will power needed to shape these energies. Stories told by humans are rarely completely accurate for a reason./ 

Well, that sounds super ominous and the way Mystery is watching her. like he is worried about something, isn’t helping. The fox exhales and his ears twitch. 

/If you wish it, we can discuss the matter at length another time. Many far wiser than I have dedicated centuries to understanding how creatures like myself come into being and what shapes our growth and development. For now, consider it context. /

“Context?” Is it just her or does Mystery seam doubly tentative now? His tails are shifting in an uncharacteristic display of outward emotion. 

/This plane, the physical plane, has its own structures and laws which shape it. Then there are creatures like myself that can alter these structures. Mostly, our influence is very limited, depending on our resolve and power which grow slowly with age and experience. Any alteration too drastic requires a lot of energy and may leave one in danger of fading to nothing./ Mystery lapses into a contemplative silence, attention drifting to the fire. The flames reflect in his eyes, so they dance and flicker a warm yellow which intermingles with the red. 

/Gods, deities, higher powers, humans have many names for them, but they do exist, and their resolve is beyond comprehension. More ideas and concept than anything else, their interference here comes in many forms. If one knows how and was willing to take an oath to act as acolytes to the physical plain, then there are a wide range boons available for beings like myself./

Mystery pauses as if to check she’s following the explanation. At this point, Vivi’s just taking everything in stride. Gods exist? Sure, why not. It’s not any crazier than all the other stuff Mystery’s said. What does have her worried is the uncomfortable feeling that Mystery is building up to some sort of unpleasant revelation. The fox looks and sounds dead serious and she gets the sense that he’s explaining something fundamentally important.

/Of course, when you have entities capable of granting abilities with the potential to unravel reality itself, there must be some structure to it otherwise there would be only chaos. A Natural Order exists to maintain balance. /

“Sooo…” She ends up having to prompt when Mystery’s silence stretches too long after the statement, “…you have some sort of supernatural code of conduct that stops you from messing up reality. Good to know.” Ever since Mystery dropped his dog persona, he has never expressed any hesitation when it came to outlining his own abilities.  Right now, he is looking very uncertain, almost like he regrets trying to explain this to her.

“Mystery?” She asks again, more insistent, because dammit if she’s going to let him clam-up when she’s finally getting some popper answers.

/ Your investigation, regarding the change in Arthur’s behaviour, I have a… theory… regarding what might have affected him. / Mystery turns back to her, expression serious, /I received a… vision of sorts. A warning... / 

Mystery exhales, /One tenant of this Natural Order that is rigorously reinforced is that none can interfere with the progression of time beyond the basic manipulations of time fields and alterations of the perhaps a minute or so, a hour at most. Even these small alternations require immense power and a direct connection to a deity within the correct domain. That or immense personal sacrifice. / 

“Time manipulation? That’s possible? Wait…” Vivi’s breath catches because she’s read enough science fiction literature to know that you didn’t just bring up time travel without it being relevant, “Who’s time travelled? Can you time travel?”

/No, I cannot. Not to this extent…Or I should not have been able too./ Several tails unfurl to sway in a slightly agitated pattern, /It is a discussion for another time, maybe. I am not the one who is to be suspected of time-travelling./

“Arthur? You’re saying Arthur time-travelled,” She feels like she should outright reject the implication for being too outlandish. What made time-travel any different from extra-dimensional gods or spiritual energy that was shaped by will-power? Vivi grips the edges of her jacket, clenching it tightly. For the second time that week, her whole world view shakes, reordering as a whole lot of floating pieces and facts finally start coming together into one coherent picture.

“The force behind Arthur’s odd behaviour change is because he time-travelled?”

/It is only a theory. The vision may have been incorrect or I might have misinterpreted it./

“He looks the same though. Wouldn’t he look…older or younger?” It couldn’t be younger because she knows younger Arthur and how terrible he was at lying…Or she hopes she does. Her mind spins as everything she’s worked to piece together over the past few days falls apart. All her theories, useless. Every plan, every detail, now askew.

/ It was implied that he may have travelled backwards from two years beyond our current time. As for appearance, human souls carry an imprint of all their memories and experiences. If one were to send a soul back in time any matching memories would synchronise and newer memories would sit alongside them./

“Okay, okay, say you’re right about the time travel. This is a good thing. It means Arthur was always Arthur, ah...excluding the one day when he wasn’t. The weird behaviour is because we’ve been interacting with an older Arthur.” 

Two years wasn’t a huge age gap. 

Maybe this, if it were true, was okay. How much could Arthur have possibly changed? Even as she tries to considers the possibility in a positive light, all she feels is apprehension. Before all this, she wouldn’t have thought much about the ramifications of time travel aside from the fact that it was cool. Alas, the shine that uncovering the unknown had once brought is dulled with worry. After having what felt like a lifetime of stress condensed into four days, she knows nothing about this stuff is simple. 

/I do not know whether this is good or bad for Arthur, only that such a desperate measure is never taken without dire cause. Divinities that deal in time and fate are incredibly powerful and notoriously unforgiving. I can only assume that whatever this current timeline replaced was worse than drawing ire of fate itself. /

Mystery confirms her fears. His tails finally settle and he exhales unhappily, and she mirrors him.

Warnings of impending doom not withstanding, Vivi tries to picture a future where the only option left for Arthur was to go back and do it all again. Nothing that comes to mind is pleasant. What’s more, it also throws new light onto all her recent interactions with Arthur and she is not sure she likes what any of it implies. Arthur had avoided interacting with them and had snuck off to buy medication alone. He’d had a panic attack, he hadn't had one of those in years. If that wasn’t the work of some demon-possessed asshole, then maybe it was normal behaviour for future-Arthur. Some of what the demon-bastard had said was making more sense now. The body snatcher was right, Arthur was ‘not quite himself’...in a manner of speaking. No wonder Arthur had seemed different, on that day several weeks ago, when she had caught him unawares outside his bathroom and, for a split second, his face had been strange. 

But, what could have  or caused the change. 

‘Flipped a switch on his personality’.  

Had something happened between Arthur and Lewis to cause Arthur’s standoffish, bordering of fearful behaviour? What had she done to make Arthur not feel comfortable coming to her for help?   She and Lewis would never hurt Arthur. Right?  

What could she do to fix something like this? 

How much could have possibly changed in two years? She thinks of Lewis, of Mystery biting into his arm, of blood spattering across the face, of blood on her hands, of blood on the ground. Both her friends dying while she’s sitting there useless. A lot...a lot could change and it didn’t need as long as two years to happen. She shakes her head and massages her temples, trying to rid herself of imagery and not to get drawn into thinking up a worse scenario.  s it bad that she preferred the scenario in which Arthur had been threatened into lying because he was being stalked by some crazy man in leather?  

“You said there’s a chance that you're wrong. How likely is that?” What was the accuracy rate for ‘visions’ anyway? Geez, she’s not even sure how to approach that one. 

/From what I have seen of Arthur, despite the impossibility of it all, I cannot rule it out completely. His soul is warped, his aura altered, far too powerful for a human, double what it should be. It could be a result of an older and younger soul merging or it could be the influence of some other force./ 

She lets out a long, tired breath, watching the fire begin to burn itself out. The cold begins to creep back in and the night seems just a dark as that night outside the diner even when lit by the full moon. Everything feels like it’s too much, too many problems tying themselves on knots.  Funnily, it’s the opposite problem of having too little information. She needs time to work through it all and put it in some sort of usable order. Supernatural creatures, gods, spiritual energy, souls, auras, visions, time travel, different planes of reality. She has so many questions about all of it that they’ve all melded together into a confusing mess.

“When Arthur wakes up, I’ll confirm the time travel thing. I’ll figure something out.” 

 /I will help. I noted a change in Arthur’s aura and did nothing to investigate. I regret it. As unpreceded and worrying as this situation is, I do not want my inaction to lead to further hurt./

Vivi doesn’t answer, opting to continue staring at the van. She’s tempted to let her mind wander and check out of this whole confusing mess. She doesn’t have the energy to reject Mystery’s reassurance like she’d been so adamant in doing over the last few days.

/I will admit, there is a lot I have yet to tell you…/ Mystery continues she feels the slight shift in the air as he tails begin to sway again, /Some of it involves circumstances I am not proud off, unrelated to what is happening now but maybe important for later. I require time to mull it over…I am not accustomed to making decisions so suddenly. It is a very human thing to do./

At least this apology acknowledges the fact that Mystery is still keeping secrets. It is better than a repeat of the ‘I wanted to keep you safe’ bullshit her dad had been spewing. It’s something. 

“I just don’t know where to start with this.” She looks to Mystery, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “If your theory is right, what do I say to Arthur?” Honestly, she hadn’t really thought about what she would say to Arthur if…when... he awoke aside from making sure he was okay. 

/Whatever you would normally say to offer a friend comfort. His time spent with that parasitic abomination was not kind from what I gathered during our brief interaction and it will have likely left some form of mark behind./

The assertion isn’t much really, but it is something. Mystery is right. She’ll focus on Arthur.  Whatever time-travelling disasters might have happened, this was still Arthur and that’s all that mattered in this moment. The bigger picture can wait. She wasn’t going to let the taunting of some bastard demon colour her view of potential-future-Arthur until she knew more. If Lewis were here he would know what to do, he was good at helping people. No. Lewis wasn’t here so she would do what she always did, approach the situation as rationally as possible and give Arthur emotional support whether he wanted it or not. It’s got them through problems in the past and its the only frame of reference she has. At least now she has something concrete to go on and plan around, even if it did suck. And, who knows, maybe Mystery’s theory was wrong. She yawns, now thoroughly mentally and physically exhausted. Maybe, she would fall asleep right here, sitting on this stone.

/We should begin our journey back to your vehicle. It is a significant walk and we should start if we intend to make it before sunrise./  Mystery intones, eyes tracking her as she sways from side to side. The fox stands, stretching his front paws, and she watches his tails fan out then settle.

“We can’t go yet the van is still burning.”

Before she’s even finished the objection the fire undulates, seaming to snuff out, collapsing in on itself. Mystery trots up to the remainder of the van, barely a metal shell now, nudging it with its shoulder. Slowly at first and then all at once, the van rolls over and into the ravine. There is a loud crash, followed by the screech of twisting and crunching metal. Vivi jumps at the sudden noise, standing in her alarm, sleep momentarily forgotten.

/Is this satisfactory?/

She blinks, then approaches the edge of the ravine, peering into it. The blackened, ruined van is at the bottom, warped on the rocks. “Yeah, I guess this is fine.”  Not like she had a better plan. No one would see it from the road when it was like this.

/Will you allow me to carry you. It will be significantly faster and allow you time to rest. /

“I…” She looks back over at Mystery, about to refuse outright and insist on walking the whole way under her own power. However, the way Mystery was dipping his head, ears back, head down, makes her hesitate. He is obviously trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. She pauses. It is a long way back and she is tired enough that the visions of looming shadows and blood aren’t so dominating without the backdrop of the diner to spur them on.

“Okay…yes. I think I’ll be alright with that.”

Instead of immediately trotting towards her, Mystery hesitates, watching and Vivi realises he’s waiting for her to make the first move. Wind blows through the ravine, whistling, taking the remainder of the burnt rubber smell and black smoke away with it. The space between them is clear and empty of obstruction. Carefully, inching along the ground to moves, stopping a step away. Mystery leans forward, closing the rest of the distance. She holds her breath as his jaws come near to her hand. There is the sensation of something wet against her palm.

Mystery’s nose is wet. He is sniffing her hand like he would have when pretending to be a dog. His many tails swish from side to side like he is attempting to mimic a wagging tail. The whole effect is somewhat ridiculous seeing as he has so many of them.  

Hesitant at first then with more confidence, she runs a hand across the fur forming the tuft at the side of his head. It is coarse but easily smoothed under her palm. She draws her hand down his neck. In the places where she touches red light particles jump into the air like dust motes, sticking to her hand before quickly fading. For a moment she smells freshly cooked rice, upturned earth, and fresh rain before that sensation fades as well. Oh...and she begins to understand what Mystery ment when he called himself non-physical. Impressions and sensation run down her arm, tickling her thoughts reminding her of when Mystery uses his thought-speech. The Kitsune feels both solid and transient. 

Mystery turns to the side, giving her easy access to his back, waiting patiently. She blinks the non-physical impressions away. More confident, she pulls herself up, gripping onto his fur, feeling his snout poke into her side to nudge her forward.

“I’m still angry at you, you know,” She affirms once she is comfortably situated and Mystery starts walking.  The anger and hurt of betrayal still curl tight in her chest, though they have loosened somewhat. 

/I understand. /  

Nodding once, she relaxes, letting herself rest for what feels like the first time in days.  She finds it oddly easy to balance and she ends up leaning forward against Mystery’s neck, finding comfort in the rock of his slightly uneven gate. Would this count as upholding the crappy agreement to sleep she had made earlier with Mystery?

“Why don’t more people know about all this stuff?” The question is soft, muffled by Mystery’s fur as she attempts to ward off her quickly returning fatigue. 

/Most manifestations of spiritual energy are subtle, indistinguishable from normal acts of nature. Fully realised creatures like myself are also rare and tend to keep to themselves. It is more common to come across formless entities such as spirits and yokai, and even they leave barely an indent on this plane…hard to notice when one does not know where to look.../ 

As Mystery talks, sound washing through her mind like a river, fatigue finally catching up with, taking her quickly into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

...

NOTE: THE EXPOSITION NIGHTMARE IS OVER!

And in the end Arthur never had to tell either of his friends about the time-travel. 

I have decided I hate  exposition writing, this thing took freakin forever and I’m still not sure it made complete sense. Should have explained some of this shit way earlier to make it easier on myself. Anyway, now I can finally shift the focus back to Arthur. 

I hope I made this interesting enough seeing as it was just Vivi and Mystery talking for 3000+ words. 

Part 42: here

[project-paranoia]

Live Watch: Guardian  Episode One, Part One

It's Guardian!  The show that got me interested in this genre!  I love spooky things and I love mysteries and fantasy!  I simply adore it so much!  When I can't sleep I just put on a playlist of Guardian in the background.  I was aware of censorship before - every country has some version of it, but to some degree this was my first deep dive into how it might effect a piece of media.  Guardian is exceptionally acted and incredibly written, as well as suffering from obvious dubs where the dubbing voice actor sounds nothing like the previous actor and odd cuts that are disrupted.  In some ways it's the little drama that could fighting its way past their studio going bankrupt while they were filming, reshoots, and being taken down and altered several times.

In some ways Guardian's struggle fits the spirit and aesthetic of the show. Worn in like an old pair of jeans but still making an effort.  Putting emphasis where things count and hoping the kindness of the universe will make allowances for the rest.  Attention to detail where the story really matters.  It has the charm of a community production put on out of love with actors and crew who would not be anywhere else in the world for any amount of money.  That feeling of love comes through, and whether or not I'm barely literate I have so many words to share.

Part of why I love it as well is it has that feeling of 80s and 90s fantasy, like Moomin, Xena or Condor Heroes. Everything feels lived in, nothing's been spit shined except for Shen Wei's suits. It's an old city street of a show, it has history and character built in. 

*After all that I don't know that I have a tonne to say about the intro.  It's very good but it's also full of spoilers.  I think having the intro song be in English does make a difference in making it appealing to English speaking audiences as well as standing out as different and interesting, which the show is. Speaking of Spoilers!  Spoilers below!

* The obligatory beginning narration is beautifully animated, I have another post that will be done some time before the heat-death of the universe talking about the fascinating world building options.  Unlike some Make It SciFi plots, this one has legs and implications.

* Remakes rarely are able to meet the original on equal ground - and I struggle to believe the actors would Fit as well - but part of me really wants to have a chance to have the Dixingren worldbuilding really leaned into.  The writing is good enough we get implication but no real follow through.  I want fifty episodes of how Dixing functions, give me more pseudo-science behind the mutations, what are the biological differences.  I'm hungry for more!

* I love the cameos of later characters, and the way there was some effort to be discrete with spoilers.

* It's Ya Boy!  I love Shen Wei.  With that music cue and that sinister turn around they really set him up as dubious.  I wish they went with something a little different with the intro so his character wasn't spoiled.  The writing, directing, and acting was so good and spoiling who Shen Wei is kind of took the teeth out of that.

* Also cheers to the costume designer who outfitted Zhu Yilong so well and made him look jacked with the fit of those clothes.

* Also you can tell this is a real university because the staff has to sit in tiny student chairs.  I'm not joking, please be warned if you're going into academia.  Unless you have tenure life is An Adventure - and even then.

* Also shout out to Shen Wei's Prized Cabbage and the Queen of our hearts, Li Qian.  Why is this actress not in more things?  She has such an expressive and lovely face and she really goes all the way in with her acting.  I respect an artist that acts from their chest. Also that windbreaker, white skirt combo is chic and fun all at once, it draws the eye and makes her melt into the background all at once - perfect for the character.  I love her so much.

* Here's another one of Shen Wei's coats, it's a lovely color for him but it also is so thin that it looks like it crinkled up just from being worn.

* I'm being distracted by details and missing plot stuff.

* Story of my life.

* I love Li Qian hovering along behind Shen Wei like a duckling following their mother.  A) Mood and B) it quietly informs their dynamic.  Shen Wei has like one person he can trust but no one he can really confide in and it's the same for Li Qian. A ship will find a port in a storm and Shen Wei has Big Da-ge Energy. My fanfic heart hopes they found comfort in the pseudo familial relationship with each other while it lasted.

* Even in episode one we receive foreshadowing, we love and respect some excellent writing.  For those of you who missed it - Professor Ouyang is talking about Lin Jing who I love partially because he's so outrageous large but has the total opposite of intimidating energy.  

* What did they feed you Lin Jing? He is so tall and wide, but they do a lot with camera work to try to make him not quite as big.  Side note, I would really love to see the actor who plays Lin Jing (Liu Minting) both in more dramas but more specifically in a role where he was like a minister or scholar - someone intellectual.  I think the combination of being such a big gentleman and also someone who like plots or plans would be really dynamic if it was written well.  

* Also I like the exchange where without a word Professor Ouyang indicates he has one last thing to say, it's private and that he would like Shen Wei to ask Li Qian to leave. That's What You Can Do With Good Actors!

* Li Qian is just so pretty and the actress emotes so well!

* Shen Wei totally understanding what's going on with this shady research immediately and wanting to stay as far away as possible.  We see one of the first examples of him being aggressively polite to remove himself from a situation.

* "i'M jUST aN oRDINARY sCHOLAR." No one buys it Shen Wei.

* Angy Thinking Face

* One thing the show is really good at is using establishing shots really well so you always know where everything is and everything is going

* Guo Changcheng, all around good boy and angel.  We stan a nervous legend

* Zhou Yunlan Arriving.  Why is everyone on this show an Absolute Legend

* Guo Changcheng protecting himself with his certificate is too cute.  This young man is trying his best and I support him.

* Also that coat is Young, Pure, Stylish; I love it

* Zhao Yunlan, what's wrong with you? You are amazing!

* His irreverent style and disregard of usual policy makes him fit in really well with his band of misfits and special cases

* Guo Changcheng's OO face is too good, elastic face

* Da Qing my love!

* Jin Ling, I think he has an all seeing eye on his hoodie thing. Illuminati Confirmed.

* Also they filmed the shots so well, so you always know where everyone is in relation to everyone else

* Our Prized Cabbage!  I love her!

* Great handheld work: shaky and unhinged, but not migraine inducing

* Foreshadowing in the form of a shadow and reaching for the necklace

* Da Qing's cat behaviours. I really want behind the scenes of the actor discussing how cat was he going to cat

* We get our first real example of how Zhao Yunlan doesn't feel safe emoting negatively and so he uses a super sunny mask to hide his feelings, except with Da Qing who he lets his anger show with because he trusts him.

* I'm not even halfway through and I've written so much, peace and blessings to the readers of this.

* Zhao Yunlan's swagger, after his childhood having a little power must feel comforting and good

* I love how Da Qing is talking as a cat less than a meter from the medical examiner.  Does the examiner not care or does he know?  Is he deaf?

* Harassing Guo Changcheng is the new team sport

* Zhao Yunlan Realises Something Music

* Also, Lollipop Measurement

* It's nice to see Zhao Yunlan just being himself with Da Qing, he's able to really be honest and genuine with him

* Slow Look Moment

* This moment is so fascinating!  Shen Wei doesn't know what's going on yet.  He just sees an old friend who winces when he sees him and disappears.  We mostly see things from Zhao Yunlan's point of view, but from Shen Wei's perspective this is a first part of just some Odd and Confusing Happenings

* This cat though!  I love him!

* The delicate way they’re both feeling each other out.  This must be so confusing and startling for Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan is trying to figure out if this teacher is going to bust him or what.

* He forgot to let go, way to set off Zhao Yunlan’s suspicions

* “Mark Stewart” Is he though?  Who picked out that English name?

* Li Qian!  I love her and I love that striped blouse. Fashion.  Got to look good when you’re resisting a mental break. *Also she hears a meow and looks around at eye level, I love that for her.

* Zhao Yunlan!  You can’t take pictures of young ladies without their permission.  What is wrong with you!

* I love Da Qing’s very cat attitude of I Will Have Vengeance for These Wrongs

* Two for one! Shen Wei meets two faces from his past.

* Also, I get a little frustrated about people making a big deal about the 10,000 years versus 1,000 years age thing with Da Qing.  a) He has amnesia and b) the thousand years refers to the amount of time needed to cultivate to a certain stage in Chinese mythology - usually by absorbing energy from the sun, moon, or depending on the animal other sources.

* I feel so bad for Shen Wei, who knows what he thinks.  Were his friends brainwashed?  Did they forget?  Can they not say for some reason?  What is happening?

This review is getting a little long, so join in tomorrow for Part Two~~!

[welllpthisishappening]

A Few Days Off for Christmas, Part Two

In which Killian Jones isn’t as retired as he originally claimed to be, cute kids continue to be cute, and home ownership is pondered against the backdrop of the world’s most competitive air hockey tournament. 

Or: Christmas at the Vankald brownstone

----

Rating: f l u f f Word Count: 8.8 of all that aforementioned fluff AN: Hey, remember when I wrote a bunch of Christmas-themed Blue Line stores and then only posted one of them? Attempts to remedy that are currently being made, so we’ve got the Christmas after Killian retires and just before Chris is born, with almost too much fluff, peak!Vankald feelings, and Elsa accepting none of Killian’s nonsense. Plus kissing, I am who I am. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

----

The door was going to fly off its hinges. 

One bump became two, evolving into several kicks before it turned into something astoundingly similar to a hip check and—“Oh my God,” Killian groaned, squeezing his eyes shut while also doing his best to melt into the mattress. Didn't work. 

He hadn’t really expected it to.  

“Your fault,” Emma mumbled, half into the pillow and partially into the mess of hair covering that same pillow. Her hair was everywhere. And she was smiling. Killian didn’t bother double checking 

Maybe smiled himself, actually. Despite whatever was happening on the other side of the door. None of the noises resembled an actual knock. Cracking open one eye, the ends of his mouth tilted up slowly and his hand moved before he even thought about it, reaching out to trace the curve of Emma’s stomach. 

Another noise. 

They were going to have to get out of bed eventually. 

Or the kids in the hallway would resort to drastic measures. 

“How’d you get to that conclusion, exactly?” Killian asked, twisting until he managed to lift his arm up in some unspoken attempt to get Emma closer to him. Getting out of bed could wait five minutes. Possibly six if they were feeling exceptionally greedy. 

It was Christmas Eve, after all. 

Something about the holiday, although that would also suggest the opposite of greed and probably something else about peace on Earth and goodwill amongst men, but the door was not going to stand up to much more of this and if Emma kept biting her lower lip like that Killian wasn’t sure he could be held accountable for his actions. Ten minutes more in bed, at least. 

“Your kid is checking the door, Cap,” Emma said, voice lacking any frustration, “how could this be anyone else’s fault?”

His heart jumped. 

Skipped a beat, and then defied several other biological rules, and none of that should surprise him anymore. Not when they were nearly six months removed from the third Stanley Cup, and the prospect of a full Jones line wasn’t all that intimidating. Even with the limited space in their apartment. They’d figure it out. Had to, really. And all of it was good. Perfect, honestly. Was nice in a way that deserved a far better adjective, because retirement hadn’t really stuck. 

Had rather quickly evolved, actually. Into director of player development for the New York Rangers, a job that came with a fancy office and polo shirts that made Emma’s eyes widen ever so slightly, although Killian wasn’t sure if he was supposed to notice that, and Matt came to practice with him. 

Regularly. 

That was now coming back to haunt Killian. 

And the structural integrity of his and Emma’s bedroom door. 

“Blame Scarlet,” Killian argued, “he’s ancient, so he’s got nothing better to do during practice than prove his worth to Matt. This is all his technique.” “Ah, well now I kind of feel like a jerk.” “No, no, he does not get your pity. The kid’s leading with his shoulder out there.” “Is that not how it’s supposed to work, then?” Making a noise in the back of his throat only served to hurt the back of Killian’s throat, Emma’s expression some sort of flashing neon sign that he was being effectively teased and—

She gasped. 

“Swan?” Far from parenting experts — and closer to apartment-hunting procrastinators than either one of them would like to admit — they had gone through this twice before, so Killian figured there was something to be said for confidence borne of experience, and he wasn’t really nervous at the hitch in Emma’s breath or the overall dexterity of her fingers when she yanked his hand forward. 

No noise on that kick, but it was definitely a kick and his heart must have evolved at some point. Beyond human emotion and into the stratosphere of family-based feelings and if Killian didn’t win the air hockey tournament, he was going to be very disappointed. 

Matt was yelling in the hallway now. 

“Took offense at the technique, I guess,” Emma laughed, “I think he’s trying to show off.” Killian exhaled. That was unexpected. He hadn’t realized he’d decided to hold his breath. Twelve extra minutes in bed, maybe. They were already late, might as well be very late. 

The door swung open. 

“Dad! Dad! Dad,” Matt yelled, leaping onto the edge of the bed and Emma barely moved her feet in time. Killian wasn’t so lucky. 

Groaning when an elbow somehow found its way into his calf, he squeezed his eyes shut again. “What did we talk about with the door, kid?” Killian asked, trying to shift his leg so Matt would realize he needed to move. 

No such luck. 

All he got was the dramatic sigh of a nine-year-old who appeared close to demanding Christmas-type attention, and Matt’s head hung over the side of the bed as several pillows fell on the floor. “I knocked—kind of.” Emma’s snicker was far too loud. 

Killian gaped at her, but that only got him a wider-than-usual smile, and several strands of hair that drifted dangerously close to her eyes when she propped herself up on her elbows. “Nuh uh, don’t look at me like that. It’s Christmas, and that’s my excuse for everything for at least the next seventy-two hours.” “So, the day after Christmas too?” “You heard me.” Killian’s grin threatened the muscles in his cheeks, nosing at the side of Emma’s cheek because he couldn’t get much closer with a kid draped over his stomach. Or while that kid was groaning quite so loud. 

“Gross, gross, gross,” Matt chanted, and the distinct lack of footsteps following him should have been their first clue. Killian was willing to blame Christmas for that too. 

And Will, just on principle. 

“Thanks for the commentary,” Emma grinned, “why were you checking the door?” “I wanted to talk to you guys.” “Did you just?”

“Yuh huh.” Killian’s eyes darted towards Emma’s. Not parenting experts, but at least passably observant and they really should have checked to see where Peggy was. “What about? And for future reference, checking is not the same as knocking. Who’s even teaching you to check like that because if it is actually Scarlet, then—” Matt shook his head. Ducking his gaze, the bedding was suddenly far more interesting than anything Killian could have asked, and Emma shrugged when he glanced up again. “Not Scarlet?” Another head shake. “What’s going on, kid ?” What felt like several hours passed, color rising in Matt’s cheeks — which wasn’t really fair, because watching his own reactions play out on his kid’s face seemed like some form of emotional torture for Killian, who was barely managing to temper his impatience. He rested his hand on Matt’s back. 

“At the Piers?” Killian pressed, only to get a noise that was far too familiar as well. Not quite an agreement, but not an argument either and he briefly wondered how the Vankalds ever dealt with him like this. He knew the answer before he asked—“Dylan, huh?” Shrugging couldn’t have been easy for Matt when Emma’s hand joined Killian’s on his back, but he made the effort all the same. It somehow ended with an elbow in Killian’s ribs. 

“I’s not a big deal,” Matt muttered. “I just—” “—Wanted to beat down our door?” Killian finished, fully prepared for the scowl he got and Emma’s inability to control the sound of her own reactions might have been one of his favorite things in the world. “He’s not going to be there. They went to visit Eric’s parents this year.”

At some point in the last nine years, it seemed the entire New York Rangers roster had collectively fallen into family mode, a decision that, while not entirely planned, left the lot of them with kids in the same age bracket. And Dylan Havfrue, at just eight months older than Matt, was ready-made for rivalry. Already impossibly tall for a nine-year-old, he was a penalty-minutes record waiting to happen and not nearly as fast as Matt. 

It wasn’t that Dylan and Matt didn’t get along. At least when they were off the ice. On the ice, they played the same position on the same team, competing for minutes and stats and, well, at the risk of losing any metaphorical Christmas points, Killian knew Matt was better. Than Dylan. 

And just about everyone else at Chelsea Piers. 

“Oh,” Matt said, head falling back onto Killian’s chest and for half a moment it felt like years before and they weren’t dealing with some kind of first-ever bully situation.

“You getting checked, kid? Is that what’s going on?”

Matt shrugged again, burrowing closer to Killian like that would somehow make the conversation end. It wouldn’t — but the footsteps finally racing down the hall might, and they’d probably have to reconsider that whole parent of the year thing when it was obvious one of their kids was hopped on pre-Christmas sugar. 

Of the stolen variety. 

“Do not jump on this bed, Margaret,” Emma warned, but the smile was back and her voice was soft and Peggy barely slowed enough to flop onto the comforter with a soft thump. 

Frosting lined the corners of her mouth. 

“Why are you guys here?” she asked. “We have to go! We have to go! Aunt Anna said I could—” Pausing to take a deep breath, her shoulders heaved. “I could use her camera this year, and Kris is going to help and—” “—How many cookies, Margaret Jones?” “No cookies!” Scrunching her nose, Emma hummed in disbelief as she leaned forward. To wipe away the frosting. “Next time make sure you get rid of the evidence, huh? How’d you even find the cookies? They’re supposed to be on a shelf.” “Don’t look at me,” Killian balked when Emma stared accusingly at him. “They’re up there. They’ve been up there since last night.” “MD and I got them while you and Dad were asleep,” Peggy explained, as if staging a daring cookie rescue on Christmas Eve was to be expected. 

“Mar!” Pushing his hand into Killian’s stomach when he sat up, Matt’s groan echoed around the room .”You weren’t supposed to tell!”

“I was stuck! You ran away and I had to—” “—Wait, what?” Emma interrupted sharply. Neither kid noticed. 

Killian resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Fifteen extra minutes in bed. Ten of which should be used to talk about the Dylan thing, and proper checking technique, and then three minutes solely for kissing Emma. They’d use the other two minutes to get the kids out of the room. 

Like responsible adults, and successful parents. 

“You were taking too long,” Matt said, “and I wanted to talk to Dad and—” “—I had to jump off the counter!” “Alright, alright, alright,” Killian snapped, voice rising on every repeat and both kids sat up straighter. Emma tried to turn her laugh into a noise that didn’t sound like a laugh and it absolutely didn’t work. “No more cookies. No more plans for cookies. No more leaping off the counter, Margaret. Understood?”

“Hockey voice,” Peggy whispered. Or, at least, tried. She glanced meaningfully at Matt, who just widened his eyes in response, lips ticking down and it all felt so painfully familiar and painfully family that any frustration Killian felt disappeared all too quickly. 

“Hockey captain voice,” Emma corrected softly, pressing a kiss to Peggy’s temple and grinning at her conspiratorially. 

“Swan,” Killian sighed. 

She shrugged. “I kind of want a cookie now.” “We know where they are,” Peggy said, rushing over the words like they weren’t an admission and they hadn’t just been talking about the great Christmas Eve cookie theft. “Yeah, I picked up on that. C’mon, lead me to the cookies, Peg, and then we should pack.” “I packed!” “I’ve heard that before. Last year, we got downtown with three t-shirts and no pants. We’re not doing that again, so—let’s go, feet on the floor.”

Peggy grumbled, but she didn’t argue and Killian tried not to smile too widely. At the scene in front of him, or the memory of last Christmas — two shirts with his number on them and another with a Team USA logo on the front, and Locksley emblazoned across the back. It had made Roland blush. 

“We’ll save you guys some cookies,” Emma promised, following Peggy out the door and Killian waited until he heard the squeak of glass sliding across the counter before he looked at Matt. Who hadn’t so much as blinked yet. 

“You want to talk now?” Killian asked, Matt making an eerily similar noise to the one he’d let out a few minutes earlier. “How come you didn’t say anything about Dylan?” “Wasn’t really a big deal.” “Sure, sure, you’re not supposed to check much at the Piers.” “I’m not the one checking.” “Yeah,” Killian said, tugging on the front of Matt’s shirt. More team-branded merch. That might have been all Matt owned. “He been doing it for long? “Since the start of the season.” “You tell Hopper?” Matt shook his head. “How come you didn’t tell us before, kid? And how come you’re pushing your sister on kitchen counters to steal cookies that we’re supposed to bring downtown?” “I didn’t push Mar on the counter. She got up there on her own. And it was her idea.” Killian narrowed his eyes, filing that particular bit of information away for a day when they weren’t, once again, behind schedule or coping with on-ice issues of a nine-year-old rec league. 

Matt played in more than one league. 

“Not an answer.” “I know,” Matt sighed. “I just...it’s stupid. He’s stupid.” “It’s not stupid if he’s breaking the rules,” Killian countered, and Ariel was going to be upset. Disappointed, too. Which, as everyone knew, was fundamentally worse. “He can’t check you. You guys are way too young for that.” “You tell all the guys at practice that they don’t need to back down from hits!” Taking a deep breath was impossible when his lungs were busy disintegrating in his chest, but Killian figured it also might have had something to do with the kid still sitting on his legs and Matt didn’t object when he hooked his chin over his shoulder. “They’re getting paid to get hit. Not quite there yet, Mattie.”. “He’s really good at checking,” Matt grumbled. “Better than me. Even Uncle Will thinks so.” “Uncle Will’s opinion on this isn’t important. And he shouldn’t be teaching you how to check either. You’ll end up in the box and then you can’t score goals.” “I guess.” “Them’s the facts, kids.” Matt considered that, body shifting with the force of his sigh and distinct inability to argue. Forty-seven thousand parental points, at least. Killian grinned at him. “You tell us stuff from now on, ok? No matter how stupid you think it is. That’s the gig, for me and Mom.” “And you didn’t really check guys.” “Because I wanted to score goals. Not sit in the box for two minutes.” “Scoring goals is cool.” Killian nodded, trying to regain feeling in his legs. “You know, maybe we could go somewhere that isn’t the Piers sometime and you could take some shots. No checking, just —practice.” “Practice?” “On our own.” “With you?” His stomach joined the fray, that time. Flipping and flying directly into the middle of his throat, which didn’t do much to help his breathing. Worth it. For the look on Matt’s face, which was somewhere in the realm of of overjoyed and that was appropriate on Christmas Eve and—

“When? Could we go during the break? Today? While Rol and Henry are home? You think Uncle Liam will skate? Did they bring skates? I told Lizzie she should bring skates.”

Plans spilled out of Matt, hardly any defined syllables, more half-shouted demands and Killian felt the smile spread across his face quickly and easily and immediately. And if he’d never really considered a family in some kind of chaotic, cookie-stealing, perfect way, then he’d definitely never considered a son who wanted to practice his forehand at every available opportunity. 

“Relax,” Killian laughed, a flash of dark hair in the hall as it dashed towards another room and a suitcase that likely had four shirts in it. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

Matt nearly trampled Killian in his effort to jump off the bed, a cry that almost sounded like yeah several times over, and he barely stopped before he collided with Emma. And the three cookies in her hand.  

“What did you do, Swan?” 

“With the cookies or—” Wrapping her arm around Matt, she pulled him against her side and he was far too busy announcing roster spots to express any sense of displeasure. The cookie she gave him likely helped too. “Rubes and I might have planned...something.” “As in?” “As in rented out that rink uptown for the day after Christmas because there’s a million and two people coming to the brownstone this year, and we’re going to need something to do after we try to kill each other in air hockey.” “This is a very violent family, we’re always threatening to kill each other.” “Or check,” Matt muttered. 

Emma kissed the top of his head.That got a reaction. “It’s also kind of nice. At least the air hockey. And Uncle Liam will totally have skates, so you can wreck him during faceoffs, Mattie.” Whatever noise he made at that wasn’t so much a human sound, as it was something that made Killian’s ears ring. Which he planned to use as an excuse. For walking forward, crowding into Emma’s space and kissing her. 

In a crashing, not-quite violent, but decidedly emotional sort of way. 

She pushed up on her toes. 

“I love you.” “Weird,” Emma said, but she also hadn’t moved her mouth away from his and that helped lessen any sense of insult. 

Killian hummed, bending his neck again with every intention to keep making out in the middle of the bedroom, and it wasn't how he initially planned to use his extra minutes, since it did involve far too much standing, but there was also kissing and he hadn’t noticed Matt leave. Only that Peggy was back. In surround sound. “We have to go! There are presents at V’s. Presents! And you guys not being gross.”

Clicking her tongue, Emma managed to stay pressed against Killian, even as she zipped up the backpack hanging off Peggy’s shoulder. “Take at least three jerseys out of your bag, Matthew David,” she added on a shout. 

Killian kissed her forehead. 

“But, I—” Matt objected, twisted around his doorframe. Emma widened her eyes. Killian assumed. He didn’t look. He was too busy narrowing his eyes. “Fine, fine, but Mar’s got to bring some socks.”

“Hat might not be a bad idea, either,” Killian added. “What about shirts for under the jerseys?” Silence. Of the resounding variety. 

“Figures,” Emma scoffed, ushering Peggy back and they were only half an hour behind schedule by the time the lock clicked behind them. Better than usual, really. 

The hat, despite assurances that it’s in my bag, I promise never made it to the brownstone —  forgotten in the desperation to get downtown for presents and eggnog and the force that had become Mr. and Mrs. Vankald grandparents. 

Adopting Roland and Henry into the fold was as natural as anything, the Locksley family welcomed with open arms after that initial Christmas spent on the living room floor. Especially once Regina started baking. And Leo Nolan was in the midst of a Christmas obsession to rival any kid on the planet, certain Santa preferred the cookies left in front of Vankald fireplace above any other offerings.  

Liam and Elsa’s twins, far removed from their own obsessions over cookies for Santa, had stepped into key air hockey roles — refereeing and commentating — while Lizzie Vankald-Jones developed a trash-talking talent that left all of them just a bit stunned. 

There were, always, enough baked goods to feed several small countries and enough Chinese food to feed a large army, and enough laughter that it echoed in Killian’s head long after they went back uptown. There weren’t enough rooms for them. 

The kids all camped out in the living room. 

And the front door swung open before Killian could adjust the bags in his hands. 

“Why are you lurking by the door, Banana?” “Waiting for my money.” “Excuse me?” “My money,” she repeated, while failing to elaborate any more and this bit they seemed to do every year had gotten old half a dozen Christmases ago. 

“They bet on when we’d get here,” Emma explained. Killian tugged Peggy towards his side so he didn’t do something he’d regret. Matt was trying to work into the brownstone already, mumbling about cookies. “How much, Anna?”

“Fifty bucks, super serious business.” “Sounds it.” Anna shrugged, leaning against the open door frame like it wasn’t December and starting to snow and the telltale smell of cinnamon wafted out onto the block. “Bah humbug, also you guys have never been on time for anything ever. I’m playing to tradition. But I should thank you, because all this was Scarlet’s idea, and he vastly underestimated you.”

“How so?” Emma asked, ignoring Killian’s huff of frustration. 

Peggy giggled. 

“Thought you’d be late, but only by like twenty minutes and—” “Hey, Banana,” Killian interrupted, and Anna’s eyebrows flew up her forehead when she heard the tone of his voice. She stood up a bit straighter. “In case you also hadn’t noticed, we’ve got some kids out here and Emma’s pregnant, so, uh if you could get out of the way, that’d be fantastic.” Crossing her arms with a huff, it almost looked like Anna was about to stomp her foot as well, and Emma rested her hand on Killian’s chest before he could start arguing. “Did Gina and Reese’s start baking yet? Because I think Killian could use some pie.” “Yeah, I think so,” Anna agreed, making a face at Killian and he hadn’t let go of Peggy yet. She grinned at the kids in front of her, holding out her hands expectantly and tugging them both inside. “You guys want some hot chocolate?” Bags were immediately dropped, forgotten on the steps, as soon as the words were out of Anna’s mouth, leaving Emma and Killian alone with her hand still flat against his jacket. “Maybe you should start checking something,” she suggested. 

Killian sighed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold onto any tension. He kissed the top of Emma’s head instead. Mrs. Vankald probably had extra hats. “Seasonally inappropriate.” “Proves my point, i think.” “Fifty bucks.” “Just means we’re the hottest ticket in town.” He widened his eyes at her, and almost-three kids later the smirk didn’t really accomplish anything except getting Emma to groan, but it had been a strange day and he probably should have expected her to kiss him in response. “Center ice,” Killian said, grinning against her mouth. 

“Not even clever.” “It’s a work in progress.” “Guess that means I’ll have to stick around. See how it all plays out.” “You think you’re very funny.” Shaking her head, Emma pulled away before they could start making out in a different location, which was probably for the best, but also a little disappointing and he didn’t realize the door was still open. 

“Hook,” Roland said, a note to his voice that made it clear it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get their attention. 

“God, don’t sneak up on us like that. How—Swan, stop that.” She didn’t. Hair brushed his cheek when she kept laughing, body shaking against Killian’s side and the flush of embarrassment on Roland’s face shouldn’t have felt like a victory. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that Ruby won her bet.” “Jeez.” “What was that one, Rol?” Emma asked, twisting towards the teenager. “Also, can you take, at least, four of these bags before Killian has some kind of complete breakdown on the steps?” Roland chuckled, leaning forward to grab five bags in one hand. “Ruby bet David what you guys were doing on the steps and why Matt and Pegs ended up running into the kitchen without any parental supervision in sight. Their words, not mine.” “Jeez,” Killian repeated. “Where’s your dad and why isn’t he telling everyone to grow up?”

“He’s kind of busy.”

Nodding towards the foyer, Killian directed them inside as voices from several rooms made their way into the space and down the stairs that were, as always, covered in ivy and lights and the photos on the wall were different now. The draft night photo was still there, but there other ones too – Stanley Cup finals and second weddings and Roland in a red, white and blue uniform and, right in the middle, that very first Christmas when they’d all fallen asleep in the living room. 

That one hung in the apartment uptown too. 

“Was I right, Rol?” Ruby asked, walking into the foyer sporting a sweater that wasn’t just ugly, was somehow bordering on atrocious and covered in hockey pucks. 

“What are you wearing?” Emma countered. 

Ruby brushed her off, staring expectantly at Roland who shook his head. “I’m still on the kid side. I want no part of this.”

“Was the door still open?” “Ruby.”

She grinned — that slow, slightly intimidating look that had terrorized reporters for the better part of the last decade — and jumped towards Roland, slinging her arms around him and pressing a kiss against his cheek. “You’re a God-awful spy,” she said. “David and I should have taken your loyalty into account.” “Where is David?” Emma asked, glancing towards the living room. “Or Robin and Will, for that matter? Or Henry. He’s supposed to show me what he’s writing.” Rolling her eyes, Ruby leaned back against Roland’s side and he was still holding the bags. “You can put those down, mate,” Killian muttered, grinning when he dropped several tons of presents on the floor. 

“Oh, that’s why we had Rol out for surveillance,” Ruby answered. “All of those adults are sitting at the kitchen table with several different poster boards and, at least, one full cake, trying to bracket out this year’s air hockey competition.” Emma laughed immediately, but Killian wasn’t sure if it was because of the absurdity of the news or because of how he’d reacted to it. Gaping at Ruby, his eyes widened when he looked towards Roland for confirmation. Who shrugged. 

That’s probably where Matt got it from. 

“What the hell, Lucas?” Killian yelled. “They’re supposed to wait until we’re all here. There are rules!”

“This is not my fault,” Ruby argued, backing away from Killian like he’d lost his mind. Emma’s lips had all but disappeared behind her teeth. “This is your crazy, insanely competitive tradition. If you want to have a seat at the literal table, you guys should get here on time. And stop making out on the steps. But I will tell you that Liam has tried to get himself higher up the bracket at least six times. Robin’s the only voice of reason. You owe him, Cap.” “I’m obviously the top seed, I won last year, that’s how it works. That’s science.” “Is there science involved?” Emma asked, Roland dropping onto the bottom step with one arm wrapped around his waist while he threw his head back. Laughing. Loud enough to draw an audience. Matt slid across the wood floor — shoes forgotten somewhere between the foyer and the kitchen and back again — and Killian ducked down out of instinct, grabbing him around the waist and tugging him back up 

“Dad,” he yelled, tugging on Killian’s t-shirt like that would get him to move. “Dad, you’ve got to come to the kitchen. Uncle Liam and Uncle Will are trying to form….”

“Alliances,” David finished, slinging his arm around Emma’s shoulders as soon as he stepped into the foyer. He kissed the top of her hair, looking almost repentant. 

Killian wondered how many alliances he’d made so far. 

“Right, right, alliances,” Matt continued, “you have to come. You’re the top seed. You won last year and you have to be up top. We’ve got to go now, Dad!”

Matt twisted, a mix of energy and excitement and Christmas coming to a boiling point that demanded acknowledgement. He got it from Roland. As per usual.  “C’mon, Matt. Let’s go challenge Henry to...something.” Lifting his suddenly-empty hands, Killian wasn’t sure what to say to any of that, only aware of how abrasive Ruby’s cackle was. “At the risk of repeating myself, Cap, this is your weird, competitive thing. Although Liam really is trying to cheat, so you know, go in there and be morally upstanding, or whatever.”

“Isn’t that David’s schtick? Maybe El.” David clicked his tongue. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that, or not.” “Nah, that was totally a compliment. Although you were making bets.”

“Oh, what the hell Ruby?” David groaned. “You weren’t supposed to ask them! Rol was supposed to look.” “Yeah, well, we forgot that Roland Locksley thinks Killian is some kind of hero. He wasn’t going to rat no matter what he saw.” “For the record,” David said, “I said you guys weren’t making out on the front steps with the door wide open, so, you know, take that into account. Although Elsa is probably the most moral.” “Not Reese’s?” Emma asked. She took a step back to Killian, sliding underneath his arm like there was a magnet in his side. “I mean, if we’re going to stage moral high ground competition, she’s got to be near the top.” “Is this conversation weird?” Ruby asked, sitting on one of the bags in the middle of the floor despite protests from Emma and Killian. “This conversation seems weird. Especially when Cap’s going to get screwed out of his top seed and anything Mary Margaret bakes is going to get devoured by the ridiculous number of kids in this house.”

As if on cue, a crash echoed from the general vicinity of the dining room and Mrs. Vankald shouted from the second floor, voice carrying as well as it had thirty years before. She leaned over the edge of the bannister, eyes falling on Killian’s immediately and he waved — like he was ten years old and just coming back from practice. 

“Tell Liam he can’t cheat this year,” she shouted. 

“I think you’re picking favorites, Mrs. V.” “I bought three things of creamer this year and Liam’s determination to circumvent the bracket rules means they’ve already been through one. I’m picking the Jones brother who isn’t going to ransack my refrigerator and well-organized food options.”

Killian scoffed, but Mrs. Vankald just tilted her head, staring at him with a fondness that, maybe, left him blushing in the middle of the foyer in front of pictures of his entire family. “We bought a new container of cinnamon for you, Emma,” she added. “If Liam’s even looked at that, I give you full permission to kick him out of the tournament.” “Wow,” Emma breathed. Ruby made a face, mouth tilted down as if kicking Liam out of an air hockey tournament was the worst insult a person could level against another human being. “I’ve never really felt this powerful.” “I trust you. You’ll use your power for good.”

“Maybe Mrs. V is the most moral,” Ruby suggested, but Killian shook his head quickly. 

“Nuh uh,” he objected. “She’s pulling all the strings up there. Who do you think demanded the referee last year?”

“Go claim your number one seed, Killian,” Mrs. Vankald said. She paused for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly and the air in the foyer seemed to shift noticeably, something important about to happen or, maybe, already happening and Emma shuffled closer. “And...uh, come talk to me before dinner.” “A little foreboding, I’ll be honest.”

“Fill out the bracket first.”

Saluting was another child-esque response, but Killian was almost positive he was getting shorter the longer he stood there and something crashed in the kitchen. Mrs. Vanaklad rolled her eyes. 

The crash, it turned out, was a makeshift hockey puck smacking into the baseboard of the dining room, leaving a sizable dent in its wake as the twins argued with Henry over what constituted as the blue line when there was a table and a dozen chairs in the way. 

And Killian wasn’t sure which took longer – figuring out those rules or keeping Peggy from climbing on top of the dining room table in an attempt to keep the game organized or attempting to figure out an air hockey bracket. 

It was definitely the bracket. 

“You can’t do this again, Liam,” Will sighed, perched on the edge of the counter. “I’m actually going to go insane if you do this again.” Liam muttered a string of curses under his breath and Killian’s head fell forward, colliding with Emma’s back. She was balanced on his leg, his arm around her waist and her fingers trailing over his hand, tracing over scars and up towards his wedding ring. It was almost enough to make him relax. Until Liam started complaining about seeding again and the whole process had to start over. 

“Why don’t we keep better records?” Robin asked, not for the first time. They were clearly stuck in a time warp. Of Christmas competition and a dwindling coffee creamer supply. “Can’t El do that? Isn’t that, like, her job?” “Do you know what a state senator does, Locksley?” Elsa asked. She’d collapsed onto Liam’s chair when he started pacing two brackets ago, resting her chin on the top of her pulled-up legs. 

“I’m assuming your tone that I don’t.”

“Ding ding ding.” “The problem,” Liam started,  and Killian didn’t even try to mask his groan. He knew where this was going. The same place it had been going for the last two hours. Absolutely nowhere. “Is that we…” “Have an uneven bracket,” the kitchen finished, and Liam paced louder. Somehow. 

“We just have to figure out who’s going to play-in.” “Liam if you say that one more time, I’m going to strangle you with tinsel,” Killian threatened. 

“That is oddly specific.” “Christmas spirit.” “That’s another Scrooge reference,” Emma shouted, twisting to knock her knuckles against his shoulder and Killian bit his lip tightly so he didn’t actually make any noise. They shouldn’t have kept flirting in the kitchen. While Liam freaked out about traditions and tinsel. “How come we didn’t bet on how many times you’d make Scrooge references?” “Because we’re adults, Swan,” Killian answered. 

Elsa scoffed. 

“Ok, if I offer myself up for a play-in game, would that help?” Robin asked, dragging the poster across the table and writing in his name before Liam could object. 

“Locksley’s going all dad mode,” Will muttered. “Put Mary Margaret in there too. She said she’d play-in to help because she’s a better person than all of us.” The kitchen hummed in agreement, and Robin finished half the bracket by the time Liam stopped pacing. Forty-five minutes, and only three more arguments later, the entire thing was full of mismatched handwriting in several different Sharpie colors. 

Liam taped it to the basement door. 

“You know,” Emma drawled, somehow still sitting on Killian’s leg, “I’m coming for your title.”

“That so? Care to place a wager on that?”

“I thought we were going to be grown up.” “I mean, no one has to know except us. Save face when you lose that way.” “Just diving right into the trash talk, huh?” “You’re the one who started it, love. The real question is…” “Oh my God,” she groaned, but her eyes were bright and he’d probably think about her smile for a questionable amount of time. “If you say, whether or not you’ll finish it, I’m going to punch you in the face.” Laughter flew out of him, any sense of competition forgotten in the rather desperate desire to make out with his wife again. “Maybe you should be teaching checking techniques.” Emma sneered, nails digging into Killian’s shoulder as she tried to stay balanced. On top of him. “Give me some credit, love. I’m not going to let you fall.”

Cliches and vaguely romantic double entendres were acceptable on Christmas Eve. Especially if it guaranteed that particular angle, Emma’s head tilted up and her teeth digging into her lower lip, and he couldn’t think when she did that. 

So. 

Kissing it was. Anything else was overrated. 

Although it did make it difficult to hear the pointed cough from the other side of the kitchen. 

Mr. Vankald rocked back on his heels when Killian finally looked up, amusement coloring his gaze even as the blush on Emma’s cheeks emitted a very specific kind of heat. “Super grown up,” she mumbled. 

“Be glad it wasn’t your brother,” Mr. Vankald reasoned. “Probably steal your number one seed.” “He hung the bracket up,” Killian argued. “That’s Christmas doctrine now. No more changes or the entire house will rise up in revolt.”

“Might keep things interesting.” “There’s a giant dent in the dining room wall and you’re still looking for interesting?” “Depends on how the next few minutes go. C’mon.” 

He walked away before either Killian or Emma could answer, leaving them sitting on one chair with matching looks of confusion on their face. “So, uh, we’re supposed to follow him, I guess?” Emma asked. 

Killian shook his head. “This has been the weirdest day.” “God bless us, every one.” “Something like that, for sure. Let’s go before someone else comes in.”

Mr. Vankald hadn’t waited for them – retreating to the dining room and the, now, multiple dents on the baseboards. Killian barely noticed them. He was more interested in the stack of papers sitting on the edge of the table, just a few inches away from the pile of plates and the almost questionable number of forks.

And whatever it was Mrs. Vankald was doing with her face. 

Like she was half a moment away from a waterfall of tears. If that was possible. It really had been a weird Christmas Eve. 

“What’s going on?” Killian asked cautiously, hooking his foot around one of the empty chairs and nudging Emma towards it. 

“Overprotective weirdo,” she mumbled. He grinned at her. 

“Mrs. V,” Killian continued, trying very hard not to tug on the back of his hair or grip Emma’s shoulder too tightly. “You want to expand on the mandate from before?”

She tilted her head in response, eyebrows lifted slightly and he wasn’t quite prepared for the force of her smile. 

Like he was seventeen and deciding to go to Minnesota. He told them he was going in the dining room. Or like he was seventeen and they’d found out he and Anna had snuck uptown on the one the weekend before. 

“Sit,” Mr. Vankald instructed, pointing at another chair next to Emma and they must have rented chairs. There were too many people in this family. “We’ve got approximately five minutes before Roland announces he’s hungry again.” “Is that the reason for the cloak and dagger?” “There’s neither cloak nor dagger,” Mrs. Vankald chastised, smile shaking ever so slightly when the tears finally fell to her cheeks. “Suggests this is bad.” “I feel like I’m about to get grounded.” 

“Did you get grounded a lot?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder and it absolutely would have been wrong to kiss her again. Although maybe Mrs. Vankald would stop crying then. 

Killian shook his head, smirk settling into place with practiced ease, and Emma rolled her eyes. She grabbed his hand. He’d appreciate that eventually. 

“Not grounded,” Mr. Vankald said suddenly and Killian snapped his head up. “We’re giving you the house.” Jaw dropping and shoulders sagging, Killian hadn’t really been holding his breath then either, but it had been a very weird day and his lungs were no longer functioning. Emma’s head moved on a swivel, eyes like saucers as she squeezed his fingers. His knuckles cracked. 

“Wait, what?”

“The house,” Mr. Vankald repeated, grinning and waving his hand through the air. 

“I don’t understand.” “What isn’t there to understand?” “Any of it?” Leaning forward, Mrs. Vankald pushed the pile of papers towards Killian’s free hand and he couldn’t actually make out the words on the page. His vision had gone glossy. 

And maybe he squeezed Emma’s hand that time. 

“But….” Emma started, licking her lips. “Why...we have an apartment.” Neither one of the Vankalds looked impressed. “And how many rooms does that apartment have?” Mr. Vankald challenged. “Also, we’re leaving.” Killian was glad he was sitting because his legs felt like he’d just skated sprints for the last several days. “What?” 

“Leaving. In a couple of months.” “I am….wait,” Killian sputtered, blinking again and staring at the doorway like a camera crew was going to appear and announce that this was all some practical joke. Or Liam was doing it to get in his head before air hockey. That would have made more sense. “You’re moving? From New York?” “Oh, no, no,” Mrs. Vankald said, “we couldn’t...not when you are…” “Super grandparents,” Emma finished, and Mrs. Vankald beamed. 

“Ok,” Killian said, trying to process everything that had happened since they’d walked into the brownstone. Maybe the kids would let him play hockey after dinner. He wanted to shoot at something. “So, let me get this straight. You’re moving out of the brownstone, but staying in New York and you’ve already decided this is all just going to be ours?” Mr. Vankald nodded, humming in the back of his throat. “See. Wasn't confusing, was it?” “You’re making jokes.” “Killian,” Emma whispered, staring at the papers in her hand. “It’s already done. This is...I mean I’m not a lawyer or a real estate agent or anything, but this is notarized.” She looked up at the Vankalds, eyes as glossy as his and Killian wished, not for the first time, that they could have these major life conversations on ice. He’d be able to keep his balance better that way. “When?” 

“When did we decide?” Emma nodded. “As soon as you brought Matthew home,” Mr. Vankald admitted. Killian wasn’t breathing. “And then when you told us you were expecting Christopher and Killian had retired, and it made sense. This is...we want you to have this.”

Mr. Vankald’s smile softened — like gifting the house Killian had grown up in wasn’t some kind of overwhelming type of decision. And on C hristmas Eve, no less. Killian tried to swallow down the bundle of nerves and emotion in the back of his throat, leaning towards Emma before he realized he’d shifted in his chair. She kept moving her fingers, alternating between squeezing his hand and swiping her thumb across the back of his palm, and her eyes hadn’t moved away from the deed sitting in front of them. 

“You’re sure?” Killian asked, voice scratchy and maybe he wasn’t seventeen and going to Minnesota. Maybe he was eight years old and terrified that the Vankalds were going to kick him out of the house. 

Neither one of them answered immediately, but then the floorboards creaked and Mrs. Vankald was next to him, one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest and she stared at him like he was hers in some kind of overwhelmingly emotional way. “There should be kids here and chaos and horsemen,” she whispered. “There should be yelling all the time and even more holes in the wall and maybe Mattie can learn how to properly check someone."

"See, scathing."

Mrs. Vankald scrunched her nose. "You should have that. Both of you. This is your home.”

Emma sniffled, lip between her teeth and head resting on Killian’s shoulder. “The Jones Line,” she muttered. “That’s what we’ve been calling it. You know with three of them.” “That’s perfect.” 

They put another hole in the dining room wall that night — Leo tripping over a hockey stick that somehow ended up propped against the table, and there had been crying and questions about concussions and no one knew how to administer medical assistance when Ariel wasn’t there. Which didn’t make much sense because she wasn’t actually a doctor. 

In the end, Leo opted to eat another egg roll. 

And then scored a goal when the quasi-hockey game resumed. Spread across several rooms and inching dangerously close to the Christmas tree, the game had taken on a life of its own, and Matt and Lizzie eventually had to be separated when they started arguing over the location of the penalty box. 

Mrs. Vankald handed out t-shirts when the game was called a draw, silencing the cries of half a dozen kids as soon as they were gifted brand-new team merch with their names on the back. Matt and Peggy each had a ‘C’ on their shoulder. 

“They tell you?” Elsa asked, knocking her hip against Killian’s where he was leaning against the wall. He nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Jeez, KJ, relax. This isn’t an interview.” “I am retired. I don’t do interviews anymore,.” 

“Please. You’re as retired as….something that makes sense.” “Coming up a little short of cliches, huh?” “I wasn’t looking for a cliche, just an example. Whatever, you’re deflecting. Did they tell you yet? Mom and Dad?” “How did you know?” “KJ.” Killian groaned, glancing back towards Emma. She was sitting on the corner of the couch, Matt in front of her and already tugging on his t-shirt, with Peggy’s head in her lap, eyelids fluttering and feet tucked underneath her. “Yeah,” he said, not sure why it felt like admitting to something. “Called us into the dining room like they wanted to discuss the end of the world and then just…” “Gave you the house.” “Yeah.” “Good.” He hadn’t been expecting that — and that might have been why he couldn't quite shake the nerves or the twist in his gut and why his eyes kept darting towards Emma and their kids, like he was trying to make sure this wasn’t some ridiculous dream he’d come up with a decade before. 

“Good?” Killian asked, and Elsa nodded. 

“Do you not think it is?” “Look who’s deflecting now.”

“No, I’m confused. You guys have to move again anyway. Might as well move here. Put some more holes in the wall.” “That is exactly what Mrs. V said.” “God,” Elsa sighed. “Don’t tell me that. It makes me feel old.” Killian grinned, slinging his arm over her shoulders and Emma met his gaze across the living room —  probably wondering why he kept staring at her like a lunatic. “Oh,” Elsa sighed, rapping her knuckles across the front of his shirt. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” “Merry Christmas.” “Does Emma know she’s married to a total idiot?” “Probably, at this point.” 

Elsa scoffed and the knuckles had taken a decidedly more aggressive approach. “I’m serious, KJ. How come you don’t think you should have the house?” “Get out of my head, witch.” “First of all, that’s rude. Second of all, you’ve been brooding and un-Christmas’y all night. Liam asked me what was wrong with you. He thought it had something to do with the bracket.” “He needs to stop with the bracket stuff,” Killian said, but Elsa narrowed her eyes and it felt exactly like being disciplined by Mrs. Vankald. He didn’t mention that. 

“Third of all,” she continued, “It’s not like we’d take it. All things considered.” “What are the things we’re considering?” Gritting her teeth, Elsa sighed with all the drama of someone who’d been keeping something secret for several months. “You have to promise not to react because I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet.” “Ok.” “The national seat is up for reelection next year.” 

Killian waited for the rest of it, the explanation that would, eventually, hit and when it, finally, did, he felt like he’d been checked over the boards. “Oh, shit,” he yelled, drawing the attention of the entire living room and several reproachful clicked tongues. Emma’s laugh still didn’t sound much like a cough. “Elsa Vankald-Jones takes on the world.” “At least Washington D.C.” “To start.” “You can’t vote, so your support doesn’t count, but I appreciate it,” Elsa smiled. “And this is yours, KJ. Has been forever. This city and this house and you should be here. Your kids should be here. Stop thinking otherwise.” Killian hummed, resting his chin on top of Elsa’s head until she cursed. Not in English She also didn’t move. And maybe that look Mrs. Vankald had given him before — that promise that this whole roster of a family that didn’t share a last name or much more than a ridiculous desire to make each other happy — was real. 

God bless us, every one. 

Or something. 

The kids fell asleep wearing matching t-shirts with the Christmas tree still on, and it only took a few minutes and several glasses of spiked eggnog to get the presents downstairs. 

And Emma was already in bed when he got to his room, pillows kicked on the floor.

“Are the stockings all hung?”  

“At least laid by the chimney with a relative amount of care.” Her eyebrows moved, lips twitching slightly and Killian tried to keep his hand out of his hair. It didn’t work. Appeared to be a trend that day. “You know, it’d be easier to get to the Piers from here,” she said. “More space. You really could teach Mattie how to check.” “I thought we weren’t encouraging the checking.” “Ah, yeah, but then he totally dominated whatever game they were playing and maybe he should have several thousand square feet to fine-tune that. Plus, you know, Ruby mentioned something.” Killian dropped onto the edge of the bed —  knocking off a few more pillows in the process – and Emma scrunched her nose. “Between you, El and the Vankalds, I feel like I’m on the wrong end of all the secrets.” “More like late-breaking news.” “Enlighten me.” “Ariel texted Ruby about whatever Dylan is doing with Mattie and she’s super upset and she thinks you’re going to be pissed after the break because she’s not monitoring her nine-year-old enforcer on skates.”

“I’m not pissed,” Killian promised, ignoring Emma’s immediate scoff. “I’m not, Swan. I just…” “Killian Jones, defender of his kids.” “Exactly that.” “Ruby was mad enough for everyone involved anyway, even Mattie, and I think he was just upset that he couldn’t score twenty times a game when he was worried about getting hit.” “At this point I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he did score twenty goals a game,” Killian muttered. Maybe he’d had more than one glass of spiked eggnog. 

“It’s because he’s trying to be you.”

Twisting wasn’t easy when he was laying on his back — or when Emma’s fingers were in his hair, but he was nothing if not stubborn and there was another joke about magnets to be made. When his hand rested on her stomach again. 

Emma smiled at him. 

“Don’t talk to me about whatever sentiment that entails. I’m super pregnant and it’s Christmas and we’ve been given several thousand square feet of house.” “Super pregnant, huh?” Emma waved her hand, pointing at her stomach and Killian flipped over – head somehow finding its way onto he legs. She didn’t stop moving her fingers through his hair. “At least now we know where Peggy gets it,” she added softly, tapping her thumb on his temple. 

“Are you suggesting she’s inherited an innate desire to have her hair played with?” “Are you?” “Possibly,” Killian admitted, reaching up to tug Emma’s hand back down. He wrapped his fingers around hers, glancing up to make sure she was still smiling before pressing a kiss underneath her wedding ring. “What do you think, Swan?” “About?” “Several thousand feet of check’able living space.” “Overwhelmed, a little,” she admitted, “but not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking of it, exactly?” “You know Scarlet asked if, and I’m quoting here, Cap is doing that thing with his face because he’s mad about having to face Mary Margaret in the first round of the tournament.” “Jeez,” Killian groaned, hand moving towards her stomach out of instinct. He was met, immediately, with a kick. “Hey, kid,” he mumbled, smiling despite the nerves and the worry and there was a lot of square footage. Room for a whole Jones Line. 

“He’s been doing somersaults all night.” “You think that’s a sign?” “About being able to do somersaults in all the space of a downtown brownstone?” Emma laughed, and Killian’s eyes darted back up towards hers. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she didn’t look as worried about the ridiculous amount of family gifting they’d been on the receiving end that afternoon. “Kind of,” she said. “And you already said we.” “That’s true. You didn’t answer my question though.” “I’m not worried about some Vankald family overload or even what happens next Christmas when we inevitably have to order the Chinese food. I am…” 

She trailed off and the sigh was more of an exhale, eyes falling on the pile of pillows and the edge of the bed and it felt symmetrical to be back in that room — where it had started and sustained a desperate middle and watched Emma Swan tell Killian Jones she loved him for the very first time on Christmas Eve. 

“You are…” Killian prompted, grinning when Emma glared. 

“It’s not something I ever thought I could have,” she said quickly, stumbling over the words and refusing to meet his gaze and it was like he’d been pulled into the mattress or maybe through the floor and Killian sat up before his mind had processed the idea of moving. “A house and a hockey line and you...trying to make out all over the place.” Killian barked out a laugh, leaning forward and kissing her — again. His lips slanted over hers, one hand pressed into her hair as he tried to tug her towards him or touch every single inch of her and he could live for the rest of time without ever quite getting over how much he loved Emma Swan right back. 

On Christmas Eve, or any other day. 

“That’s because I;m super attracted to you,” Killian said, and it was the most honest string of words he’d come up with all day. “It’s a struggle not to make out with you all the time.” “Mattie would never forgive us.” “He’d cope.” “I love you a ridiculous amount you giant, vaguely attractive weirdo.” “Vaguely attractive? You wound me, Swan.” “Ah, well, I will admit that becoming a homeowner adds to your overall attractiveness.”

Kissing her again was the only reasonable response —  brushing his lips across her face and down her neck and over her shoulder and she probably would have actually punched him if he tried to kiss her stomach, but he was on some other level of overjoyed and Killian was willing to live on the edge, as it were. 

“El told me I deserve this,” Killian muttered, pressing the words against Emma’s t-shirt. “But at the risk of being a sentimental asshole, I think you do too, love.” “Team Jones,” Emma whispered, tugging on the collar of his t-shirt so he moved back up, falling asleep wrapped up together. 

Until several kids tried to check the door the next morning.