#i think i should just buy slightly larger earrings? but i have to wear gold if thryre metal or it fucks w my ears

[transexualbutchfagdyke]

god I've been thinking about stretching my ears. how do I even start?

[ao3bronte]

🌈⚔️MARIGAMI HEADCANONS🌈🎀

They say opposites attract, and Marinette and Kagami really couldn’t be more different. Calm, cool and collected, Kagami considers herself to be a brewing storm on an even keel, sharp enough to strike but only when prompted. She’s precise with a sword and even more precise with her words. Vague expressions and underhanded motives have never suited her; Kagami is lightning on the mountain. Unmovable. Unshakable.

Marinette is just a mess. Silly, excitable, all over the place. A heart of gold and a body that seems to contort itself in ways the body simply shouldn’t. She trips over a speck of dust and lands on her head only to right herself a moment later, just in time to face plant into a door frame. Marinette sings and dances without thinking, applying herself to every worthy cause. She smiles and laughs openly and always sees the good in everyone.

Kagami can’t help but be suitably enamoured.

The fencer has never had time for friends, but the more time she spends with Marinette, the more she realises that she needs to start making time. Kagami’s mother, a woman she respects greatly, has always controlled how she spends her free time. Lately though, she doesn’t seem to mind Marinette’s presence and Kagami doesn’t question it. If Tomoe will allow her the odd get together with Marinette, she certainly won’t argue.

Marinette and Kagami spend most of their time together at cafés drinking Orangina and giggling at videos on TikTok. Kagami is only allowed to have pre-approved apps on her iPhone and the two of them love watching all of the silly videos huddled up on their favourite banquette in the corner. Marinette knows she likes #organizing on TikTok and saves the amazing ones to show Kagami while they wait for their order to arrive. It’s always the little things with Marinette that make Kagami appreciate their time together more than ever.

This week, Kagami proposes that they go for a bicycle ride down the banks of the Seine. She loves to do active things and Marinette has proven that, so long as she wears a helmet, the clumsy girl can actually stay on her bike without falling over. It should be a safe enough passtime, but Kagami packs a First Aid kit in her backpack just in case.

The spring breeze rushes through her hair as they fly down the banks together and Kagami smiles, just a little. The sound of Marinette’s laugh brings her enough joy that she can hardly tamper the urge to join her, except Kagami doesn’t really laugh very often. She wants to though. Marinette inspires her to try.

“This is the perfect spot!” Marinette exclaims, slowing down her bicycle just enough to hop off the seat and walk it down to a larger clearing. The shade of the trees has invited many Parisians to sit down and relax with a picnic basket and all at once, Kagami realises that this is what Marinette expects to do as well. Kagami has never had a picnic before. It will be a new experience.

“You’re going to love this!” Marinette beams, tugging a blanket and an insulated sack out of her back pack. “I brought croissants and gougères and some vegetarian quiche…” Marinette prattles on, pulling out one snack after another from her parents’ boulangerie patisserie. It’s a menagerie of food Kagami isn’t always allowed to indulge in and Kagami has certainly begun to appreciate why the French are so obsessed with butter.

“What are these?” Kagami asks once she’s sat down across from her friend. Marinette has managed to unpackage everything without dropping them, tossing them skywards or mashing them into her toes accidentally and Kagami is thankful for little miracles. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“These? Oh! These are new. One of my dad’s newest creations.” Marinette giggles and hands her the little carton. Inside are two small, pear shaped cookies with pink and green frosting on them. “He calls them his ‘Poires d’Amour’.”

Kagami raises her brow and takes the one closest to her. “Do they taste like pears?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried them. We get to be guinea pigs today!” Marinette plucks the other cookie from the bottom of the box and takes a generous bite. “Mmm! They’re pretty good! A lot better than his matcha and date macarons from last week.”

Kagami cringes at the combination and takes a bite of the cookie, chewing it thoughtfully. The pear taste is subtle, its flavour heightened only slightly by the essence in the green frosting. There is another flavour there though, one that reminds her of melon, and Kagami scrutinises the uneaten half of the cookie between her fingers in an attempt to figure it out on her own.

“It’s cactus pear.” Marinette provides helpfully a moment later, licking the rest of the frosting off her fingers. Kagami finds her gaze drawn to the carefree flicker of her tongue between her lips. “Weird, right? I’d never heard of it, but my dad always buys the weirdest stuff from the exotic grocer just down the road from us. Apparently, it’s some sort of pink fruit that…”

Kagami listens with half an ear as Marinette continues down another one of her tangents, always happy to fill the empty space between them with words and stories and whatever else comes to mind. Kagami appreciates and welcomes the sound of her voice and the shape of her words on her lips as they pour forth like a fountain, bathing her in a warmth of chatter that Kagami grew up without.

It’s the complete opposite of what she’s used to and Kagami has grown to love it.

[PART 2] >>

SEE ALL OF MY LGBTQ+ HEADCANONS HERE!

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

   “Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

[superhero--imagines]

<--- Part 3 Here!  /  Part 5 Here! (Last Part)--->

A/N: I’m going to do one more part, and then a Light + Dark ending. 

To my usual followers who didn’t come here for star wars content, I’m so sorry. Usually I make separate blogs for different content, but then when I lose interest/get busy, I neglect the blog, and then I realize I haven’t made content in a while, and then I get anxiety and keep pushing it off, and then I feel bad because I put all this effort into this project, and didn’t carry out. It’s just a whole negative feedback loop. So from now on I’ll make a separate tab for different fandom imagines, and keep a separate master list. I refuse to change my username though because I’ve had it for 4 years, and I refuse to let it go (lol). 

Anyway hope you’re having a good day :)

* “That’s so rad!” 

*Ben can’t help but smile, it’s nothing all that impressive, he just made a few flowers bloom for you

* But your smile as you walk though the garden, leaning over to smell the perfume of the hibiscus flowers:

* It’s like he hung the moon for you

* It’s well worth the trade off of his life force

* “Rad? Is that a new word from back home”

* He doesn’t miss how you freeze when he brings it up

* He hadn’t meant anything when he said it, he certainly didn’t mean to make your smile constrict like that

* “Yeah, it is”

* You get that look on your face again, the one he’s seen since childhood

* You’re eyebrows are strung together, and your hands tremble slightly

* Your eyes remained fixed on the flower in front of you

* Ben has always wondered what it is you think about when you get like this

* What he can do to ease your mind

* He rests a hand on your shoulder, his hand is so big against your shoulder, it’s three times larger at least

* Just like that you spark back to life

* “Shall I guide you to the Queen’s rose garden, Ambassador?”

* “Yes,” a gentle smile curling on to your lips “that sounds lovely”

* A part of him was worried that you had changed, five years is a long time after all

* But watching you frolic in the meadow, carefully threading small white flowers together in a crown;

* You’re still the girl he remembers

* “There!” You say, placing the flower crown on his head

* “Now you look like a prince”

* Ben feels his face grow warm, he’s sure his face is practically red by now

* “I’m a Jedi Knight, not a prince” he tells you, and you grin

* “You’re my prince and I’m your knight, remember?”

* If he wasn’t sure of his blush before, he certainly is now

* Why would you bring that up?

* But Ben isn’t one to back down

* “No, you’re my Princess and I’m your knight.”

* Your cheeks bloom with color, almost as red as the roses that surround you

* That’s an awfully pleasing expression

* “I’m not a princess, just an Ambassador” you mumble, Ben’s ego continues to swell

* It’s almost as big as his head, before promptly deflating when he see’s Poe waiting for you in your suite

* “Ambassador, I’m going to the bazaar to look for parts, would you like to join?”

* So the boy wasn’t just apart of his imagination

* He’s not quite sure how to feel, but he knows he does not feel good

* You eyes light up as soon as you hear the word ‘bazaar’

* Well, it’s not as if he can monopolize all your time

* “You’ll come with us, won’t you Ben?”

* You look up at him with stars in your eyes, and he feels that nostalgic warmth bloom inside his chest

* Then, as if you just realized he might not know who this man is, your eyes light up

* “Ben, this is Poe” you gesture to the handsome boy, with hazel eyes, and the strong nose, who’s made Ben feel bile in his throat for years now “and Poe, this is my best friend Ben!”

* He should be happy you called him your best friend, but in this situation, it just makes him feel empty

* They share a handshake, but he can feel the tension in the air

* “So did you make that light saber on your own?” Poe nods to his weapon of choice attached to his hip

* “Yeah, Lu- Master Skywalker makes us all make our own”

* Poe’s eyes are practically sparkling

* “Can you show me how?”

* Poe is actually a very nice person. Ben understands why you would want to be his friend

* “You know, it’s all about getting to that sweet spot when you’re piloting”

* “I agree, the feeling as you’re just about to leave the planet’s atmosphere-“

* “Oh, man” Poe claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder “I know”

* Ben wants to hate him, but he’s such a cool guy

* They laugh and joke all the way to the bazaar

* Ben feels a chill, and notices he hasn’t heard you say anything for a while

* You must be annoyed, you probably feel left out of the conversation

*It adds up, you probably didn’t expect to be the third wheel in this situation

*He looks over, and the slight tremor from before, becomes a blizzard in his chest

* You’re wearing a cloak, but he can still make out your expression

* Eyes dead set on the ground, your hand trembling

* You’re not annoyed, it’s worse than that

* It’s that face again

* He isn’t quite sure what to do, he can’t call out to you in this situation

* He can’t attract attention

* frosty white teeth dip into the tender flesh of your bottom lip, your hands clenched so tight, Ben’s sure there will be crescents left on your palm

*But he can’t just watch you tormented like this either

* He catches the glimmer of gold, and an idea strikes him

* His hand rests on your arm

* “Do you like it?” He motions towards the pale pink gemstone ring in front of you

*  It’s slow, but you relax under his touch

* And just as slowly the chill begins to subside, left with a comforting warmth

* Oh

* These are your emotions

* He’s felt this way around you since childhood, so he never noticed

* All along he’s been feeling your emotions

* Those times when he felt lonely, and you were a galaxy apart, when he felt this warmth

* It was you

* It was always you

* He’s tosses a gold coin to the shopkeeper, and slides the ring on to your finger

* “Ben, it’s not even my size!” Your face blooms with color, as red and lovely as the rose’s you love so much 

* He just smiles

* “We’ll get it adjusted then” he leans down to whisper in your ear, and your flush only darkens

* That expression looks good on you

* He can’t help but grin

* He slides the ring down your ring finger

* “Seems to fit fine to me”

* “Ben do you-“ you look up at him with wide earnest eyes

* “I think I got all the parts I need!” Poe interrupts, carrying a crate full of various parts

* “Let’s head back then” you mumble, wrapping the clock around you just a big tighter

* “Did I interrupt something?” Poe asks, and Ben can see from his aura he’s genuinely clueless 

* Well that makes two then

* The walk back is silent, with Poe trying to break the tension, only to recieve a one word response

* “Did you have fun?”

* “Yes”

* “What was your favorite part?”

* “All of it”

* Poe decides to head to the ship, either to give you some space, or to avoid the awkward situation

* Ben walks you back to your quarters in complete silence

* “Well, see you tomorrow morning” You tell him

* He moves to turn away, but stops

* “She hates you now”

* He doesn’t want to leave like this

* Before you can open the door, he places a large hand in front of you, smack dab on the middle of the door

* “Have I upset you in some way?”

* His hand is planted firmly on the door, a few inches above your head

* You’re so small now, he hasn’t noticed before. You’re almost a whole foot shorter than him

* When you were kids, you were taller than him

* You look up at him, with large expressive eyes, bashfully glancing down

* “N-no, it’s just, I’m just-“ you cut your own words off, toying with the ring he bought you

* He’s never seen you like this before, face flushed, shuffling anxiously

* “I’m embarrassed” you mumble, looking away from him

* “Because of the ring?” His hand moves to hold yours without even thinking, and your blush only deepens

* You really are as lovely as a rose

* “A man shouldn’t buy jewelry for a woman unless he’s in love”

* Is that all?

* “That’s fine, because I do love you” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can process what he’s saying

* He’s a bit embarrassed, but he doesn’t regret it

* He loves you, he’s loved you since he was a child and you would follow after him like a hatched newborn

* When you would throw rocks at his window in the middle of the night

* Even when you would stick your nose into all of his business

* He’s awfully fond of you, you should know that by now

* Instead you sigh, slipping your hand out of his

* “Not like that Ben,” the flush is gone, you look older when you look at him now, tired

* “Romantic love”

* What the hell has romantic love got to do with it? Love is love isn’t it?

* Noticing his puzzled expression you add:

* “You know, when you love someone so much it almost hurts you. You think about them all the time, and you miss them when you’re apart, even if it’s just for a day. And whenever something happens, they’re the first person you want to tell”

* “Have you ever felt that way about someone?” The question leaves him without restraint 

* You smile, but it’s without joy, and look at him with those same, tired, eyes.

* “Maybe once or twice”

* Ben feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach

* He doesn’t know why but the thought that you had loved someone, loved them like that, before

* It makes him so sad

* “You’re not the only person who has her heart”

* “Keep the ring” he rushes to put on a smile, but he’s sure it looks forced “consider it payment for all those years you were my knight”

* At that you laugh, and the feeling on Ben’s stomach gets a bit better

* Against his better judgment, he reaches for you hand once more, careful not to hurt you

* And presses his lips to your ring finger

* “I’ll see you tomorrow Princess”

* Ben doesn’t remember how he gets back to his living quarters, or even how he ends up in his bed

* What he does remember is the dream he had that night

* You were in a pair of lacy red panties and a bra, and nothing else

* Hair falling in wild waves over your shoulders

* You held him so well, wrapped yourself around him so well

* He rested his hands on your hips, you felt so soft

* Then, all at once, you crumble against his chest

* You’re so small, your head buried in his neck

* “Ben, please”

* He wakes up with a start, groaning when he checks under his blanket

* The perfect start to a perfect day

* Elsewhere you wake up in quite the same manner, awkward and embarrassed

* You have the soul of a 40 year old at this point, yet you’re still at the mercy of this hormone laden body

* “This is going to be a long week”

Tags: @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @treblebeth​ @crazynocturnalkiki​  @lokilover-39​

[cutietobio]

scenarios w iwaizumi, lev and yaku with an s/o who usually dresses super conservative and comfort>style but wants to try stepping out of her comfort zone so on one of their dates she shows up more put together and wearing clothes that show a bit more skin? (like off the shoulder tops, shorts, skirts w/o leggings etc) n the boys get a little flustered or excited?? ;);) thank u! im trying to step out kf my comfort zone too so i felt like this would b cute nd make me more motivated not to give up!!

mmm yessss good stuff. this is the fluff I’m after. I hope you enjoy these, anon!! and I really really hope they motivate you because you’re beautiful and deserve to feel comfortable!! i love how these scenarios gradually increase in word amount as I go along I’m so sorry for the inconsistency oops.

IWAIZUMI

For your movie date with Iwaizumi, you were feeling a bit experimental with your choices in clothing. Instead of your usual conservative style, you wore a shorter skirt with your legs fully exposed, choosing not to wear leggings like you usually did. The rest of your outfit went along together nicely, but you felt a little self-conscious whilst overlooking yourself in the mirror. You have never taken such a risky clothing choice before, one gust of wind and your legs wouldn’t be the only thing on display. Luckily, the evening weather was quite calm.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you approached the movie theatre, eyes scanning the many bodies of people in search of your boyfriend. You spotted him leaning against the wall, casually watching the crowd walk by, your mouth dried at the sight of him. His style was one you always loved, a mixture between edgy and casual. He looked good, and you could only hope he thought the same about you.

“Hey, Hajime-kun!” you greet with a friendly smile, opting to stand a few feet away from him due to nerves. Your voice caught his attention immediately and he opened his mouth to ask why you were standing all the way over there until his eyes fell on your outfit and his words died off in his throat, his eyes widening at your exposed skin.

“Babe?” you question, your smile fading ever-so-slightly. You weren’t sure whether his speechlessness was meant to excite or worry you.

“You…You look nice,” Iwaizumi muttered out, coughing into his fist as he turned to look to the side, avoiding eye contact with you. The tips of his ears were tinged red and his cheeks were equally as flushed. Catching this, your smile widened.

“Thank you, but I think you look better.” He scoffed at your words and held an arm out for you, which you hooked your own arm around without a moment to spare.

“Whatever, believe that. Let’s get inside,” you nodded in reply, enjoying his blushing state. Both of you shuffled inside, buying your tickets and snacks before heading into the movie.

After your date, Iwaizumi took you home. Both of you stood outside your house, gazing at each other, neither wanting to leave. 

“You looked great tonight. I think you should…dress like this more often,” Iwaizumi trailed off shyly, annoyed by how fast his heart was beating just by standing so close to you.

“Really? I was actually worried you wouldn’t like it. I’ve never dressed outside my comfort zone like this before but… you make me feel beautiful, so maybe I will,” you offer him a delicate smile, blushing hard at your admittance. 

“I make you feel beautiful?” Iwaizumi questioned in a whisper, and you nodded in reply. He appeared to be taken aback by your words.

“Yes, you do.” There was a bit of lingering silence before Iwaizumi took a step closer to you, his hand grasping your own gently.

“I’ll make sure you always feel that way.”

LEV

Your boyfriend always took you out on fun dates that mainly consisted of you going outside, you thought it would be time to dress more appropriately for the occasion of the summer festival that he wanted to take you to. The afternoon sun would be hot, added with the running around he would likely make you do, you wanted to expose more skin to keep you cool. That and you also wanted to push yourself to dress outside of your comfort zone and experiment with new styles.

You wore a cropped t-shirt, with a denim overalls/denim shorts and a suiting pair of shoes. Having never worn something so exposing before, you were obviously a bit self-conscious and found yourself continuously tugging at the hem of your shirt to cover up your skin. Due to its short cut, the material merely snapped back in place. It was too late to bail and wear something else as you were already a few minutes late for your date, so you swallowed up your doubt and headed out.

Lev was standing at the festival’s colourful entrance, actively searching the heads of people in hopes of spotting you. You did text him saying you were running a bit late, but he had faith you would be there any second now. Once he saw you, you were given no time to prepare and anticipate his reaction to your outfit, as he immediately manoeuvered through the crowd and brought you close to him with a tight hug.

“Found you!” he laughed out joyously with closed eyes, which popped wide open as he felt the silky texture of your skin underneath his hands. Pulling back, he stared down at you in curiosity. You gulped, wishing the earth would swallow you up as he took in your appearance.

“Waah! You look so beautiful!” Lev cried out, bringing you into another hug which you slowly returned whilst processing his words. He…liked it? “You always look beautiful, but these clothes on you look great!” He pulled away again, examining you with gleaming eyes of adoration.

“Thanks, I was nervous that you might not like it…” you admit sheepishly.

“Me?! How could I dislike anything about you?!” he whined out about your assumption, “you worry too much, princess! Let’s go have some fun!” Before you could blink, Lev grabbed his much larger hand in your own, lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you safely through the crowd. Despite his exciting demeanour, he always handled you with such care and love it made your heart swell.

Throughout the day, Lev could barely shut up about how great you looked. He would constantly remind you how good you looked with your outfit and point out things he liked about it. You ended your day with one last ride on the Ferris wheel, and whilst furthest from the top, he turned to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable!” his words touched your heart directly, and you hugged him, catching him off guard slightly but he returned the hug a second later.

“I should thank you for that, you’ve made me feel more open to trying new things. Like…getting on a Ferris wheel,” you giggle, breaking from the hug to peer down the edge of the cart. You paled at how high up you were, but Lev tugged you back before you could worry about the height more.

“I’ll always be here to support you, princess!” he said with his usual happy tone, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

YAKU

Your boyfriend had always enjoyed taking you on traditional and romantic dates, this time, he had really outdone himself, wanting to take you to a pretty fancy restaurant where even a dress code was required. You took this opportunity to exit your comfort zone when it came to your style choices and decided to go shopping for a dress. It hugged your figure perfectly, exposing your collarbone and also dipping to your lower back. You had never worn something like it before and scrutinized it intently in the mirror.

Despite the unease you felt wearing it, you forced yourself to ignore those feelings and finished dressing with a pair of heels/flats and minimal accessories since the dress itself was quite eye-catching. You were dropped off at the restaurant and entered in, hoping your nervousness didn’t display across your features.

A figure approached you from your peripheral vision and you turned to find Yaku looking handsome in a crisp black suit. Your heartbeat wildly against your chest, feeling much more nervous than before. He looked so good, you could practically be moved to tears. At that moment, you forgot all about the insecurity you felt wearing your uncharacteristic dress and smiled at him warmly.

“(Name), wow…” he stated breathlessly, taking in the sight of you. He felt his cheeks warming up instantly, convinced that he truly had the most breathtaking girlfriend in the world. Yaku wished he could tell you that, but he feared you might think him to be too cheesy. “You look stunning,” his eyes met yours and he held out an arm for you to take.

“Thank you, I’m glad it’s okay,” you mumble with a blush matching his own, latching onto his forearm as he redirected you to your table that was decorated with white and gold cutlery and trinkets. 

“Okay?” he turned to give you an incredulous look, “It’s more than okay, you really made me lose my breath back there.”

“Stop,” you whine out softly, dipping your head to hide your worsening blush. Yaku merely chuckled, kissing your temple and pulling your chair out for you. You thanked him after having been scooted forward and the evening was spent indulging in delicious food and almost crying of laughter due to your wild conversations. He took your mind off of everything, and you honestly felt good in your dress.

Once the evening came to a close after desert, Yaku offered to drive you home rather than taking an Uber. Obviously, you agreed and enjoyed furthering your conversation in the warm confines of his car as you could admire him openly and tease him about keeping his eyes on the road if he turned to meet your gaze.

Upon reaching home, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, Yaku making no attempts to unlock the doors and you making no attempt to question why. You wanted to stay with him longer, so even if they were unlocked, you wouldn’t have left.

“Thank you for tonight, you really spoil me too much,” you speak softly, for it’s easy to hear each other over the dead silence.

“I don’t think I’m spoiling you, I’m treating you to what you deserve,” he argues warmheartedly, turning to give you a small smirk. It fell quickly, as his face morphed into that of seriousness.

“Oh no,” you express with a small laugh, “I know that look, you’re gonna-”

“You look really beautiful, (Name), I mean it. I can’t express how glad I am that you’re feeling more comfortable with yourself, and even around me. That really means the world to me,” Yaku declares with the utmost sincerity, grabbing both of your hands in your own.

Your eyes narrow affectionately, your mouth opening but closing shortly after as you have nothing to say. Pulling your hands from his, you reach over and tug him into a hug, your arms around his neck and your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Mori-kun, I swear I’m going to marry you one day,” you mumble, sighing out contently as he rubs small circles into the exposed skin of your lower back.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[sope-and-shine]

Christmas Special: Day 2

-> Pairing: Jimin x Reader ->Idol!AU // Fluff ->Word Count: 2.5k ->Summary: When it comes to Christmas shopping, you’re pretty much a walking disaster. At least the handsome stranger your decided to bother is nice enough to put up with you.

A/N: Not as good as I was hoping it’d be, but I’m pleased anyways.

Christmas is a time for being together and a time for sharing. It’s a time for one to truly express how grateful they are for someone! That expression can be with words or actions, and everyone usually has a preference for one or the other.

That’s what lead you to entering the mall during their extended hours, wrapped in a beige coat with a white scarf tucked around your neck and matching hat and gloves. All you needed was just something for the rest of your slightly larger family, at least one thing for everyone. Gangnam might not be the best place for this, but the extra cost would be worth it in the end. Besides the quality gifts you would be sure to find, the mall sure was a sight for sore eyes at this time of year. Strings of garland wrapped around every railing, lights strung wherever they could find the space, oversized ornaments hanging from the ceiling, and a huge tree decked out in red, green, and gold! The mall was a sight to see this time of year, so going through the yearly chaos of Christmas shopping would all be worth it.

Picking out items for your sisters - and sister in law - was the easiest part. They told you what they wanted, so shopping for hours wasn't necessary with them. But finding a gift for your brother, brother-in-laws, and your oldest nephew would be the challenge you faced today. Your youngest nephew was easy: toys for learning and he’s done. Your next two nephews really only wanted nerf guns, so those could be ordered. Fourth nephew: Kid wants cars on top of cars. But your oldest nephew? He was a challenge just like your brothers. He plays too many sports, and everyone else was probably already covering every single one already. He plays video games, but you weren't about to send him a $50 Steam gift card and call it a day. You wanted something that would mean something to him.

You take the second floor first, entering a bit of a higher end store to take a look at what they have to offer. This store sells watches, clothes, shoes, and even bags! But you need the best of the best for this kid, and you don't want to be the lame Aunt that ends up giving him socks for Christmas. 

Approaching their miscellaneous section on the men’s side, you find a nice array of bags, shoes, socks, and watches - not to say the socks might win you over, but they’re really not that bad. 

You might reconsider the socks later.

You know he wants a new bag, and the bag in front of you seemed like it was of decent enough quality that it would get him through a few more years of school. And it was blue, so it already hit all of his requirements. But you also know he was talking about wanting a watch - even though he has an Apple Watch, so why does he want a new one? He said some new shoes would be cool, but does he really want shoes? 

“Maybe I should just send the socks and the steam gift card and try again on his birthday…” You mutter to yourself, taking a once over of the various pairs of socks they have hanging on the racks. You have no idea what you’re doing anymore. Your last relationship already proved that you don’t know how to gift other humans with presents, but there wasn’t really a service you could call to help you pick out gifts for your family members.

On the other side of the rack you see grey hair tucked away under a beanie peaking over the top. Out of curiosity, you take a quick peek around to make sure it wasn’t just a girl taller than you on the other side - from the way his muscles show underneath his clothes and his jawline you conclude that he is in fact not a girl. With nothing to really lose, you grab a watch and a bag from your side and slowly approach.

“Excuse me?” You ask hesitantly. He seems genuinely shocked at first, jumping back at your call away from the earrings and other jewelry items in front of him. But he regains his composer quickly when you continue, “Could I get your opinion?”

“Sure.” 

“I’m trying to buy a gift for my nephew - he’s 14 by the way - and he told me what he needs, but I’m not really sure that that’s what he wants. I have a couple options, but shopping for boys kinda sucks. No offense.” You say, trying your best not to be too overbearing, but still feeling the need to explain yourself.

He chuckles, “None taken, but you should probably just get him socks.”

“See, I’m trying to avoid that.” You sigh. You should’ve known that would be the answer. Why would a random stranger help you with a Christmas gift when he’s obviously trying to do his own thing?

“Well, what does he like?” The stranger asks, taking you by surprise. You stare at him in shock for a moment before opening up. “He’s really into sports: basketball, soccer - the American kind - and track-”

“-He runs for fun?”

“That’s what I said.” You agree. Only two minutes in and already you feel at ease with a total stranger. It was easy to explain how you felt to him, almost like he was used to this type of thing. “I’m at a loss for what to get him because I’m kinda out of the loop being an entire day ahead of him. Everybody else in our family probably got him sports related stuff already.” And that wasn’t a joke either. With a family as big as yours, there’s no way he wouldn’t have new clothes or new gear. If he talked about it, he was probably getting it already. It made Christmas shopping that much harder, not to mention he was a hormonal, teenage boy. “What would you want if you were a 14 year old boy besides video games?”

Your prince-like stranger takes a moment to think before he nods to himself. “Probably a girlfriend.” His response is such a boy response that you can’t help but scoff. “I don’t know if you know this, but buying another human is kinda illegal.” 

“If you get caught.” He replies with a playful smirk. 

...

“So, the watch or the bag?” You ask, choosing to ignore the look he’s giving you.

His playful composer changes as he reaches out to take the watch from you, inspecting it for a moment and handing it back, “Get him the watch. He’ll feel better about dressing up if he has something like that.”

“I didn’t think about that…” Getting a watch besides the apple watch would make sense. It may be small and slick, but a real watch would be flashy, stylish, and professional all at the same time! But still, you didn’t feel that this was the right thing despite the reassurance. You let it hang by your side and give a small bow to the stranger for his help, “I think I’ll wait for now, and come back if I don't find anything. Thanks for the input!”

“Yeah, no problem! Happy holidays!” He waves, returning to his shopping after you turn to put your items back. You take your leave from the tiny store and search for the next, moving on from store to store after every failed attempt at finding something. Nothing seemed perfect enough for you, and every present you saw was just as generic as the next with the same overpriced hoodies and sneakers. At this point, all of them were about to get a box full of socks if these last few stores flopped. But the department store at the end of the walkway looked promising enough having two levels, so why not hope for the best?

—-

Hoping for the best was probably the best option in hindsight. After a little walking around, you did start seeing items that you knew your extra brothers would be into. Stupid shirts that they’d say they hate but wear for family occasions anyways, glasses and mugs of various shapes and size - most of them looking lewd enough that you have to wonder if they’re actually allowed to be there - and just crazy gadgets that you know they won’t find in stores over-seas. You even had a few more interactions with the man that helped you in the store from earlier, asking him small tidbits about what colors he thought would be best or what mattered more. He was very helpful when he didn’t have to be, and he even assured you that you weren’t being a bother - talk about a Prince Charming. All of it was starting to come together, but your nephew was still ailing you. This kid was your first nephew - you grew up with him like an older sister! How were you supposed to pick out the perfect present?

That’s how you find yourself bent down in front of the display case for the watches intently staring at all of your options. They had gold, shiny gold, matte gold, rose gold, silver, bronze, blue, and every color under the sun that you could think of to choose from. For you to choose! Not only the color, but the style as well. Who puts this much thought into their watch?!

“I personally like the Fossil Luther three-hand with a leather band in all black.” The familiar voice of your stranger says from beside you, having snuck up on you while you were browsing. His presence shocks you enough that you fall over onto the floor from your bent position with a small yelp. “Sweet Jesus! Warn me next time. What’s with the mask anyways?”

“I look cooler with it.” He shrugs. He reaches a hand out and helps you back to your previous position before he scared you, joining you in your intense view of the watches in the display, “I thought you were going back for the other one?”

“Well, I started thinking about what you said. About how it would make him feel to dress up with a nice watch once in awhile. My nephew really means a lot to me, so I want to get him more than just a basic watch.” You explain. You’d known that you wanted to get him something special when you walked into the mall, and this stranger just helped you realize that it was easier than you thought. A watch was a simple gift, but it can also be very special. “I want to give him something with feeling behind it, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” He agrees, a nostalgic look in his eyes as he looks straight ahead. He stands up to his full height and stretches before he takes a look at the display from the top to look at all the colors. “Can I see a picture of him?”

“You want me to show a total stranger a picture of my underage nephew?” You ask. Of course you were sarcastic, but the momentary flash of panic across his face was still hilarious. But his hand placing itself in front of you to shake was a bit unexpected. “My name is Jimin.” 

“I guess that works.” You shake his hand in return, pulling away to grab and unlock your phone to scroll through your sister’s Facebook page. Out of the millions of pictures of both your nephew and your niece, you settle for the picture of him at his first homecoming with his girlfriend. His hair styled back with a little bit of volume, his dress shirt a nice royal blue with matching blue socks and black pants, shoes, and vest. He looked so put together and you definitely cried for a whole hour when you finally got to see his pictures. “So what do you think? He’s pretty handsome, right?”

“Definitely.” He agrees, studying the picture on your phone. He takes turns looking between the photo and looking over the watches before he stops on the display case. He points at a silver watch with a black watch face, three hands, three small circles on the inside, and a black leather band. “You should go with this one. It’s a neutral color, so he can wear it with anything. That, and it’s face is a bit more intricate than others, so it looks expensive, but it won’t completely break you.”

“Thanks. I’m (Y/n), by the way.” You introduce, putting your hand out for a proper introduction. He smiles back, taking your hand in his own, “It’s nice to meet you. Officially, that is.”

You pull away, “I should probably get going so you can find everything you’re looking for without me bugging you!” 

“I didn’t mind.”

You smile and make your way to the checkout line, your small cart of items for your brothers ready to be scanned and hauled all the way back to your car on the other side of the mall. Waiting in the line to leave allowed you the time to think back to the man you met today. He was kind - and very cute - and he really didn’t have to help you out today. It was nice kinda shopping with someone else. It felt so much easier than your usual shopping, and altogether made you much more relaxed to go home to your apartment.

“Here’s your receipt, ma’am.” The cashier says, handing over the paper just so you could be reminded about how much money you just spent. You nod your thanks and wish her a good evening, taking your bags and starting your long trek back to your car by yourself. The memories of your stranger would now just be a memory of a missed opportunity on your part.

“Excuse me.” A voice pulls you out of your self pity. One of the clerks you had seen in the jewelry department stood behind you would a small, red box in his hand. He tilts his head a little, “Do you know a Jimin?” 

“Yes?” You answer, more of a question than a real response. You meet a cute guy and now other random guys know him too? This is what you get for ignoring stranger danger around the holiday when all the freaks are out. He probably wasn’t joking about the ‘not getting caught for human trafficking’ thing. “He told me to give this to you, and that you should really consider his offer.”

“Um, thank you. I will.” You bow politely, walking away uncertain of what just happened. Weird, but not the strangest encounter you’ve ever had. You decide to just get to your car before you take a look at what it was he wanted to give you that he couldn’t do in person. Removing the paper from the box, you open it to find a case for a watch - more specifically, the case for the watch you just bought - black casing with two glass panels to show off what you put inside. It screamed expensive, and you knew it. A paper on the inside of the box catches your eye and you open it, letting out a small ‘oh my god’ as you read over his note.

~ Hey, (Y/n)! Do you know BTS? Well, we’re having a fan meet this weekend and I’d really like to see you again so you can help me with my shopping this time. Maybe if you do a good job I’ll give you my number ;) Please, come and see me again! - Jimin

You don’t know what made you do it, his cheeky personality or his generosity. Maybe it was the want to thank him, but you knew that you’d definitely be going to that fan meet to see his smile again.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

10 and 13 please please please 😌

@poppy27 and all who requested 10 and 12 here they are! I combined them since they are related. And a bonus slightly creepy but sweet Simon one.

and yes I’m still working on #13. That’s been the most challenging one so far!

10: What sorts of things would they give each other “just because”?

12: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

1.

Baz

One of the particulars I noticed about Snow, that first night in our room, after the Crucible had encumbered me with him (burdened me with his mole-dotted skin, ordinary blue eyes, bronze dusted hair) was how few possessions he had brought to Watford with him.

Worn trainers on his feet. A scant number of ratty t-shirts. A few threadbare trackie bottoms. That fucking red ball.

That was it. Not another bloody thing.

It’s not like I brought much with me. Uniforms, text books, notepads, writing utensils—all were provided to us.

I’d packed some clothes. Pajamas, of course. A few favorite books. A tiny, contraband iPod Fiona had lent me the summer before (discreetly hidden in the depths of my closet, thanks to the Mage’s ludicrous ban on electronics.)

Over the years more items traveled to Watford with me. More books, naturally. Some family photographs (Mordelia was an exceptionally ugly baby) (She’s marginally better now) (it would be devilish hard to look any worse.)

By fifth year there were posters, meticulously confined to my side of the room. Some abysmal drawing Mordelia had made for me that I kept spelled to the wall. A whole shelf of books.

And Fiona’s old lava lamp, for the sheer ridiculousness of it (it was mesmerizing) (and retro) (and I liked to spell it different colours.)

Snow never added anything. Other than larger sizes of the items he’d brought with him initially. And a winter coat. A few nice jumpers, after he started spending Christmases with the Wellbeloves.

No personal effects. No books. No photographs.

At least he got rid of that fucking ball.

It took me years to understand. To realize he went into care every summer, wasn’t with the Mage as I thought. To recognize that he couldn’t afford or even really risk owning anything of value.

It was much the same when I helped him move into the flat with Bunce earlier this year (I did help, no matter what Snow says) (I supervised) (Someone had to.)

Most of their furnishings were tatty cast offs from Bunce’s family home.  Some mystical wall art that she had found in Camden. A mismatched selection of mugs and tableware. Typical uni apartment.

But Snow’s bedroom was so sparse. Just like his side of the room had been at Watford. A bed. A desk. A lamp on a rickety nightstand. A dresser with virtually empty drawers.

Blank walls.

It’s not like that now, no thanks to Snow.

It’s not like he doesn’t have money. Bunce finally convinced him to do something with that sack of leprechaun gold. I took him to a Normal bank, helped him open an account and the bank helpfully converted the gold to legal tender.

It’s a tidy sum. Enough for him to indulge himself a bit.

He doesn’t.

So, I do.

It started before he moved to London. Those weekends second term, when I would visit him at the Bunces.

When he was all long silences and thousand-yard stares.

I held his hand and tried to distract him. Dinner dates. Film nights. Clothes shopping.

I bloody adore taking Simon clothes shopping. He has no idea how fucking attractive he is. Buying him fitted shirts and tailored jeans is as much a gift to myself as it is to him.

I can’t help it.

I think of him when he’s not with me.

I’ll walk by a shop and see a shirt that reminds me of the color of his eyes.

Strolling through a bookshop I’ll find a title I actually think he might like.

A peculiar trinket will catch my eye at a street market and I know he’ll be captivated by it.

I buy them all for him.

Even my old lava lamp has taken up residence on his dresser.

Bunce says Simon’s room looks like a tatty shop stall from Spitalfields Market. It looks nothing of the sort. She’s prone to slanderous hyperbole.

What it looks like is home.

2.

Simon

I’m not sure what I love best about living in London. Rooming with Penny. Getting to see Baz every day (and most nights) (almost like when we were roommates) (but better.) Going to uni. Exploring the city. All the food.

The variety of food is astonishing. There’s posh restaurants and so many curry take-out shops. Neighbourhood pubs. All the street markets.

I don’t know if I like Borough Market or Camden Market best. Or Maltby Street. Or Brockley.

I love them all.

I’m only taking two classes per term this year. My therapist thought that would be plenty, with all that I’m trying to sort through right now. Uni’s been very understanding and accommodating about it all. My therapist sent a letter and spoke with the dean.

Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan first, when I was still living with them. Said she knew they had some pathway that wasn’t full-time to start.

But I think Baz’s father had something to do with it too. Baz had dragged me along, to their family lodge near Oxford, for a weekend visit soon after he’d left Watford.

I hadn’t really seen the Grimms much since I’d run away from them, the night the Humdrum had attacked Baz. The night I’d extinguished all the magic for miles around their home.

Well, I’d seen Mr. Grimm, at the Coven meetings investigating the death of the Mage. He’d not said much to me, just gripped my shoulder a few times and said “Simon” and nodded at me.

It wasn’t much. But it helped. Helped to know he didn’t hate me for the hole in Hampshire. For driving them all out of their home. For being with his son.

It was just a quiet encouragement, something I’d never expected from him.

But when Baz took me to Oxford with him, to tell his father he would rather be staked than go to uni there, to tell his father he was moving to London with me, I was anxious.

I was going bloody mental.

So of course, being me, I started babbling on at dinner about moving to London, living with Penny, our fourth floor flat, what my therapist had said about uni. Just nattering on, face turning red, hands shaking but unable to stop the fumbling words coming out of my mouth.

Baz, the prat, just looked at me with one eyebrow raised and a half-smile. Bloody twat. He could have cut in and stopped me any time.

Mr. Grimm looked a little glassy-eyed and Daphne had a fixed smile on her face. I finally took a large swig from my water glass and stopped talking.

“That’s … that’s very interesting to hear, Simon.” Mr. Grimm’s face was impassive. “Have you thought about where you might like to study?”

“London’s got so many options,” Daphne added helpfully.

“Uh, Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan. Said it’s got some flexibility, with part-time programs and such.” My face was flaming. Baz’s hand slipped into mine and I could breathe a little easier.

“I’m familiar with it. Sebastian is there, Baz. You remember him?”

And then they’d moved the conversation on and I’d slumped back in my chair and taken another helping of pudding.

But a few weeks after I applied to Metropolitan I received a letter from a Mr. Sebastian Palmer-Lloyd, informing me that I was approved for a part-time pathway and providing information on a scholarship he felt I was qualified for, if I filled out the appropriate paperwork.

I think Mr. Grimm arranged it all.

I haven’t dared ask him or attempted to thank him directly.

Baz said not to worry about it, when I asked him what to do. Said his father wouldn’t want me to mention it. He had an odd expression, when I told him about the letter. A distant, fond look.

I don’t think it was for me, though. I think he was thinking of his father.

So that’s how I ended up at London Metropolitan. With only two classes per term. I got that scholarship. I’ve got tutors and a foundation year advisor who stays in touch with my therapist and is surprisingly helpful to me.

Which means I’ve got a fair bit more free time than Baz and Penny.

Which is why I’m wandering through the market on this blustery Thursday. I’ve had a kebab and an ice cream so far. There’s a stand with baked goods that look wonderfully appetizing. Might take some home for later.

I’m strolling along, eyes darting from the food stalls to the art displays when I see the table across the way. The wind’s picked up and my ears are getting a bit cold. It’s not even the end of October. It’s shouldn’t be this blustery yet.

The table is covered with woolen hats and mittens and scarves. Bright colors, soft jewel tones, dark greys and browns. They’re soft and thick and look so very warm.

I don’t wear gloves much. Or hats. Get too hot still, even without the magic. I’m like a personal space heater, Baz says.

Baz gets cold. He’ll whinge about it tonight, how the temperature’s dropped today. But he still doesn’t do a bloody thing about it. Still wears his posh tailored wool coats, his thin leather gloves. He wears scarves but only because he thinks they make him look mysterious and aristocratic. He looks bloody gorgeous in them but I’ll not tell him that.

I will. I have. I can’t help myself.

Baz won’t wear a hat. He wore the boater at Watford because it was required (he loathed it) but once we didn’t have to wear them anymore he wouldn’t wear any type at all. Not even in the frigid depths of winter. Thinks they make his hair look bad, the tosser.

He’ll wear gloves but the ones he has now are useless. Thin leather ones, no good at keeping his fingers warm at all.  I should know. I hold his hand constantly.

I thought he had lined ones, when we were at Watford. I’m sure of it. I remember seeing him putting them on before he’d go to his violin practice. Cashmere lined, I’m sure.

They must be at his place. I’ll have to see if I can dig them up when I’m over there next. It’s only going to get colder.

I run my finger over a pair of mittens. They’re so many—simple knit ones, ones with a flap you can flip over to free up your fingers, ones made from cozy old jumpers and lined with fleece.

Mittens would surely keep Baz’s hands warm.

I find a simple charcoal grey pair with a thick, warm lining. They’re trim and neat, subdued and sedate.

He’ll still find something to complain about but at least his hands will be warm while he does.

3. Bonus Simon slightly creepy ficlet

Simon

Taking only two classes means I’ve a lot more free time than Baz and Penny.

I don’t have class today but I’m up early, as always.

Baz spent the night at his place. Had a paper due today so he didn’t make it over. Probably for the best. He doesn’t have class ‘til noon today. We usually just stay in bed all morning when he sleeps over on Wednesday nights.

But I’ve got plans for the day and an early start is what I need.

London is the best place I’ve lived, other than Watford. There’s so much to do, to see, to explore.

It’s not great for hunting though. At least not for the kind of hunting Baz does. The non-human hunting.

London’s probably more like an all-you-can-eat buffet for the regular vampire types.

But Baz isn’t a regular vampire. He argues with me about it but he’s more human than vampire. Always has been. All that rubbish about being half-dead. It’s all rot.

He’s basically a human with a taste for blood.

But it’s a bit sparse here in the city for him. There’re rats, yeah, but not as concentrated in one place, like they were at Watford.

Places where they do congregate aren’t places I want Baz going to alone. I know he’s got super strength and super speed and whatnot but I still don’t fancy him lurking in Hackney in the middle of the night.

London’s not even in the top twenty rat-infested areas of Britain (yes, I looked it up) (Research.) There are some right big ones in Hackney but it doesn’t even make the list.

There’s a fair amount of birds but they’re a bit dodgy to catch and Baz isn’t too fond of them. There’s deer in Richmond and Greenwich but it’s not that easy to drop a deer in the middle of London, even at night. There’re people around all the time.

You can find badgers in some of the parks but Baz says they’re an endangered species so they’re off limits. That’s taking it a bit far if you ask me. What’s one badger, here and there?

Baz draws the line at bats too. I tease him about that. He’s just too fastidious. Drives me mental. He’s got to feed somehow.

Odd thing is he’s not needing to feed near as often. He used to feed almost every night, he would, at Watford. But since last term he can go two days or sometimes even three and not be worse for the wear. I’m not complaining, mind you, but it’s odd.

Maybe the whole Numpty incident reset his vampiric metabolism? I don’t know. I’m no expert on vampires.

Probably more of an expert than most. On one particular vampire.

So anyway, feedings have been a bit chancy for Baz now that he’s in the city. He’s made do with rats and pigeons, the occasional deer if he can manage it.

He lets me go with him, mostly, now. At least when he hunts for deer. I’m good at lookout, making sure no one’s about, distracting people if I need. Gives him a few moments undisturbed it does.

Even with his altered metabolism it’s still not ideal. He needs a more consistent supply. He’s got a heavy class load. He can’t be out all night trying to feed.

Tried dried blood. I found it on Amazon, of all places. It’s mainly for making blood pudding. Thought it would work all right.

Baz hates it. Made him gag, it did. Says it smells funny and has a chemical aftertaste. Probably all the preservatives. Used it in emergencies a few times, like when it snowed for three days straight in February.

I found some in an Asian market. In the freezer section. I swear to Merlin I had no idea you could get frozen blood in a grocery store.

I’d actually found the place on some Reddit forum on blood pudding. I keep having to clear my browser history. Don’t know what my classmates would think if they saw the searches for blood products on my laptop. Think I’m mental or part of some cult, I’m sure.

The frozen blood wasn’t much good either. Something about the freezing process and coagulation and whatnot. Baz and Penny went on and on about it. I couldn’t follow it all. Just crossed frozen blood off the list of options.

This one Asian market in Catford had fresh blood. Thank you, Reddit. I got a tub of it and brought it home on the tube. Lid must have loosened up at some point. Ended up with the front of my shirt all soaked in it. Looked a nightmare I did.

Walked into the flat and Penny took one look at me and started shrieking about Goblins.

I haven’t seen Baz look that frightened since … since the whole Weeping Tower incident.

He looked terrified. Face shades paler than usual, nostrils flaring, pupils blown, eyes wide and fixed on the bloodstain on my shirt. His fangs popped (I can tell) (His cheeks puff up.)

And then he was right there, running his hands over me, searching for a wound or injury or some such. Got blood all over his hands, patting me down like that.

It took some time for everyone to settle. I hadn’t realized what I looked like, big blood stain in the middle of my chest and splatters of blood on my hands where I’d snapped the lid back on.

Thought I’d been attacked, is what they thought. The Goblins still think I’m fair game so I suppose Penny and Baz had a point.

I put the tub of blood in the refrigerator and went to take a shower. I think Baz burned my shirt. I don’t know why they didn’t “out, out damn spot”it. That should get blood out.

I kind of liked that shirt. But I don’t think Baz or Penny were quite rational at that moment. It’s their biggest fear for me, played out, now that I don’t have magic anymore.

Took me half the night to get Baz settled down enough to try the blood.

Better than the dried blood for certain. Better than the frozen too. Not sure how I was going to manage transporting it back and forth from Catford without another disaster like this one.

Got a big thermos is what I did. Went back a week later but they didn’t have any in stock. Finally got some a few weeks later and transported it home without incident. Thermos did the trick.

Their supply isn’t that reliable. I’m on their list to call when they have it now. The owner thinks I’m some private chef who specializes in blood sausage. The language barrier helps keep them from asking too many questions.

So that’s what I’m up to today. I’ve got a list of butcher shops I called Monday that said they get fresh blood every so often. I’m going round to see if they look reputable and clean. Won’t be getting dodgy supplies for Baz.

I’m hoping if I find enough suppliers I put them in a rotation of sorts. You know something like Catford first Friday of the month, Ealing every other Thursday, Camden on alternate Tuesdays. Something like that. So I’ve always got a supply on hand for Baz.

Keep him from having to prowl around as much at night, especially once it gets cold again. Keeps him out of the dodgier neighborhoods too.

It’s almost six by the time I get home. I’ve got a list and dates and I’m going to put it on a spreadsheet to keep it all organized.

I’ve got two thermoses in my backpack so that’s all right then. I tuck them into the small refrigerator under my desk and head to the shower.

It’s almost eight by the time Baz texts me that he’s on his way over. I’ve got the spreadsheet all done and put the pick-up reminders in my phone.

He’s going to fuss about it all. Baz doesn’t deny it, like he used to, but he still hates talking about it. So I won’t say much. Just tell him I’ve found a steady supply and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know the details.

That I went all over London today to find reputable distributors. That half of London thinks I’m a blood sausage specialist. That I set up a schedule for myself of when to get the blood. That the frig under my desk isn’t just there because I get hungry all the time.

Baz does so much for me.

I just want to do something for him.

Baz

My heart is pounding in my chest and I can't catch my breath. Simon is staring at me and I can't speak.

I've completely lost the ability to form coherent sentences and I can sense the anxiety rising in him at my continued silence.

This boy. This absolutely fucking gorgeous nightmare of a boy.

He's been fussing with different ways for me to feed for weeks now but I thought he'd finally given it a rest.

But no. I should know by now that Simon Snow perseveres and digs his heels in when faced with a conundrum.

I'm the conundrum.

I know the enormity of what he's done for me. He's minimizing it all, not telling me what I know is true.

That he's traipsed the length of London, personally scrutinizing these butcher shops. That despite his utter loathing of Excel he's put the effort in to make spread sheets--spread sheets, for Merlin's sake--to keep track of dates and times and locations. That he's volunteered himself to pick up the blood, so no one becomes suspicious of me.

Simon’s done all this for me and I'm speechless.

He’s said he loves me. I know he thinks he means it. I want to believe that Simon Snow loves me as desperately, as passionately, as absolutely as I love him.

But I've never really let myself believe it. Not until now.

And it makes me love him even more than I already did, if that's even possible.

I can feel the tears coming on so I grab Simon's shoulders and pull him towards me, burying my face in his neck, my arms tight around him.

"I love you, Simon Snow."He relaxes in my arms and pulls me closer.

"I love you, Baz."

And I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, just how much he truly does.

[welllpthisishappening]

The PyeongChang Triple (7/15)

It’s the Olympics. The. Olympics. And Emma’s running out of post-it notes to write schedules and plans on and there are more games and more expectations and not enough time for any of it. She’s fine. Totally. Absolutely. If she could just sleep. Or stop feeling as if her knees are going to give out every time she stands up. Or get Ruby to stop staring at her like that. It’s fine. After all Killian Jones, captain of Team USA, keeps promising it will be.

He’s going to win. Again. At the Olympics. And Killian’s not nervous. Not about that. It’s hockey. He could play hockey in his sleep. Probably. He’s never tried that. But he probably could. And, sure, there are expectations and games and schedules and barely any time for what he wants to actually be doing, but winning a Gold medal isn’t bad. After all, Emma Swan, temporary New York Rangers Olympics team social media manager, keeps promising it will be.

They’re fine. They’re going to win. Together.

Rating: Mature. Swearing, hockey-type violence, lotsa making out. Word Count: 7.8K of team bonding, team sassing and tooth-rotting fluff. AN: This is fluff. That’s really all it is. Fluff on fluff on fluff and maybe (hopefully) a little less frustrating and a bit more understanding regarding everyone’s thoughts and feelings and Olympics schedules. As always @distant-rose​ & @laurnorder​ are gifs I don’t deserve, but will continue to hoard forever. They’re the best.  Also hanging out on Ao3 and FF.net if you’re down

She was mad.

No, that wasn’t enough. She was angry. Furious. Livid.

Emma paced back and forth in the lobby of the hotel two hours away from a hockey arena that they had to get back to later that afternoon, muttering under her breath as she moved.

She’d been worried at first, the gasp she let out when she saw Killian slam into the boards the night before so loud Emma was certain they could hear it in the goddamn continental United States, but then they’d put him in a precautionary brace and the league reps wouldn’t leave alone. She’d been certain it was broken, the sound of his whole body crashing against the ice echoing in her head even when they were back in their room and he kept promising how fine he was in her ear.

They’d fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed – Emma ignoring his protests completely as soon as he winced when he moved his arm the wrong way – and she woke up with the worry replaced by fury and, now, they had media obligations all afternoon.

Because Killian’s hand might not be broken, but it was still purple and just a bit green and those league reps who wouldn’t leave him alone didn’t want the face of the NHL to risk another injury.

Even with a gold medal on the line.

“Swan,” Killian said softly, catching the back of her jacket mid-pace and pulling her up short. “Sit down, love, you’re making me nervous.” “I’m making you nervous?” she hissed, tugging away from him and resuming the line she was marking as her own on the carpet.

“We’ve been over this. I’m fine.” “Your hand is not supposed to be that size.” Killian shrugged and, somehow, that just made Emma more upset. Furious. She was furious. This was supposed to be easy. These two weeks on the other side of the goddamn world were supposed to fun and they were supposed to win and, maybe, they’d see a medal ceremony or two and get half a second to themselves.

They hadn’t.

It had been the opposite of everything she’d planned and even getting time on their own felt like cheating somehow, the messages on her phone and death threats from Ruby and Mary Margaret’s absolute certainty that she’d been murdered somewhere in the Olympic Village, making Emma’s head spin.

She just wanted a few, uninterrupted minutes to tell her boyfriend – captain of Team USA and the New York Rangers and the fucking face of the NHL – that she was pregnant. Probably. She still hadn’t taken a test.

She should try and find a test.

That would, also, require time. By herself.

God, she couldn’t breathe.

“It’s just swollen, Swan,” Killian reasoned, pushing out of the chair with his right hand and he kept trying to hide the left one, holding it lightly in front of his chest like she wouldn’t realize what he was doing. He was trying to make sure he didn’t twist it wrong or put any pressure on it or do anything that would keep him out of the game.

He was, he told her, determined to play.

“Move it then,” Emma challenged, rolling her eyes when Killian did something stupid with his eyebrows. “Oh my God, you know what I mean.” “There is a brace involved, Swan. I can’t move it. That’s the point.” “And it’s just going to be fine in two days?” Killian shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably.” “Probably.” “Definitely.” “This is incredibly stupid, you know that, right? You don’t have to play. The captain does not have to go do with this particular ship.” “I’m not going down with anything,” Killian argued and, now, he looked as furious as Emma. “I’m doing my job.” “This isn’t your job,” Emma yelled, voice jumping up several octaves without her permission. Killian took a step back, looking like he’d been shocked a bit and even she didn’t quite expect that kind of reaction.

“It’s not,” she continued, voice back where it should be and eyes boring a hole into the carpet under her shoes. “You got them all here, Killian, but you don’t have to...you don’t have to risk anything for this. It’s just…” “What?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. She still hadn’t looked up, blinking quickly so she didn’t stage another emotional meltdown in the middle of the Olympics. Her shoulders heaved when she tried to take a deep breath and Killian’s shoes moved into her line of vision, thumb tucking under her chin until she couldn’t help but look back up at him.

“I’m fine, love,” he said softly, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“You keep using that word.” “That’s because it’s true.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead and his thumb traced across the curve of her cheek when she’d absolutely started crying in the hotel lobby. She was a mess. “C’mon, Swan,” Killian said, tugging her back towards the chair and pulling her onto his leg before she could even begin to argue. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” “Way too much.” “You’re mad about my hand.” “No, I’m not,” Emma argued, but she knew it was pointless. Open book. “I mean, not rationally,” she added, resting her head on Killian’s shoulder as his fingers carded through the ends of her hair.

“And irrationally?” She scoffed and his hand shifted around her waist, lips finding their way to the juncture between her shoulder and her neck. “Irrationally,” Emma mumbled. “I’m super pissed off.” “Why?” “Because this wasn’t supposed to happen,” she sighed, feeling as if she were admitting to a lot more than a few words and half an idea of how it was supposed to work. “This whole Olympic thing was supposed to be easier. We were just supposed to have some fun.” “Are you not having fun, Swan?” She smacked at his chest, tugging lightly on the tie he had to wear for media. “I want to go home,” she mumbled and she couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was smiling. “I don’t want all these people around all the time. I want your hand to not be eight sizes larger than it should be. And I want something vaguely catastrophic, but not horrible to happen to the entire country of Finland.” “We play that guy again a couple of weeks after we get back,” Killian said, tracing a pattern up her back and Emma could almost imagine they weren’t in a South Korean hotel lobby. “He’s a fourth-liner for the Panthers.” “That must be why he was so angry.” “Eh, I think they were just trying to show off.” “Against you.” “The entire country of America,” Killian argued, but he was laughing and he kept inching his hand around her waist. She couldn’t breathe again, could feel the air catch in her throat and she just needed a few minutes. “Swan?” he asked, pulling back to stare at her and her head fell off his shoulder. “Emma, God, you’re white as a sheet, what’s going on?” “Nothing,” she answered immediately and he narrowed his eyes at her. And then she remembered. Before the game and before his hand swelling up to some ungodly size that she should probably ask Ariel about.

The date.

They’d been sitting there and talking about broken bones and collective units and he said he’d been thinking about this forever and he never said what.

“Swan,” Killian repeated sharply, gripping her shoulders tightly. “C’mon, the truth here, love.” “What were you saying before?”

“What?” “You were going to ask me something before. Twice now and you haven’t. So, come on, I want to know what’s going on with you.” Killian’s eyes widened and she could see his jaw tick slightly, tongue pressed firmly against the inside of his cheek. “This was supposed to be easier,” he muttered, repeating her words back and Emma wasn’t sure he even realized what he was doing.

“Is it not?” she asked softly and he shook his head slowly, eyes closed lightly.

“This entire goddamn team is the absolute worst.” “I think we agree about that honestly. What happened to that island idea? We could buy an island still.” “Or we could just lock ourselves in the apartment and not leave for a week.” “You’d get fined for not showing up to games.”

“I absolutely do not care.” Emma smiled slightly and this was good. This was normal. The banter and the teasing and if he kept smirking at her like that she was going to kiss him senseless in the middle of the hotel lobby. Or maybe on the two-hour car ride ahead of them.

She made a mental note to ask Ruby why they hadn’t changed hotels.

“You’re deflecting, Cap,” Emma muttered, tapping her finger against his tie. Killian shrugged, but he didn’t answer and she was dangerously close to making a return to furious. She sighed and this wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Five minutes.

They just needed five minutes.

They didn’t have that.

Emma could hear heels a few feet behind her and Roland had started alternating between the national anthem and America the Beautiful, his voice reaching the one chair they were both still sitting him almost immediately.

“Goddamnit,” Killian mumbled, head falling against Emma’s shoulder with a soft thump. “A whole week, Swan. At least.” “Deal.” “You guys know there are more than one chair in this entire hotel lobby, right?” Ruby asked, coming up short next to them with an amused look on her face. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Killian’s hand, palm flat when it wrapped around Emma’s front. She opened her mouth quickly, but Emma glared at her and the snap of her jaw closing was the loudest thing in the entire country of South Korea.

“What do you want Lucas?” Killian asked.

Ruby grinned, a bit of an edge in the look that Emma didn’t entirely appreciate. “You’re really doing this then?” she countered.

“That’s not an answer to what I just asked.” “Hey,” Emma interrupted, sitting up quickly and Killian’s breath hitched when she moved. Ruby rolled her eyes. “How come we’re still here?”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby sighed. “And what does Cap’s hand look like today? Still as disgusting as it was yesterday?” Emma shrugged. “It’s kind of green now, but I think it’s supposed to do that. I’m going to call A when we get to the arena.” “Do not call, Red,” Killian hissed and that knowing look was back in Ruby’s gaze. “She’s going to be stupid about this.” “She’s going to be stupid,” Emma repeated slowly. Killian nodded. “What is there to be stupid about?” “She doesn’t want me to play.” Emma lifted her eyebrows and she hadn’t known that. She knew Elsa and Anna didn’t want him to – had heard Killian arguing with Elsa earlier that morning, trying to keep his voice low when he moved towards the door and it hadn’t ended well, curses muttered under his breath until he sighed loudly and left his phone on the other side of the room.

“What?” Emma asked, twisting slightly to stare at him. “When did you talk to A?” “She texted me this morning. Wanted to see pictures of my hand. She doesn’t trust Toronto.” “The entire city?” Ruby asked and Killian rolled his eyes.

“The athletic trainer is the same guy from the Leafs. Apparently he’s, and I’m quoting here, an idiot with only half a degree.” “Like half a sheet of paper?”

“Ruby,” Emma sighed, but she didn’t take her eyes away from Killian. Or the hand he’d brought in between them, precautionary brace resting on Emma’s thigh. The swelling had to go down eventually, right? “Why doesn’t A want you to play?” Killian made a face, rolling his shoulders like this wasn’t important and Emma fought off a fresh wave of anger. “She thinks it’s a risk,” he mumbled, sounding as if the words were being dragged out of him. “A stupid one. She mentioned that several times.” “Well, that’s because it is,” Ruby muttered and both Emma and Killian turned to glare at her. She held her hands up in mock surrender, retreating back a few steps and Roland was still standing there.

“Are you not going to play on Friday, Hook?” he asked softly.

“Of course I am, mate,” Killian answered. He tugged Emma closer towards his chest, arm wrapped tightly around her waist and glanced up at her, as if he was challenging her to argue otherwise. “After all, I’m not interested in losing Humbert’s bet.” “Oh my God,” Emma groaned. “This is about a bet? A’s right, you are stupid. Graham wouldn’t make you do it if you don’t play.” “This is not about Humbert’s bet,” he promised. “This is about getting one chance at this and I’m not going to fuck it up.” His voice cut through the lobby, harsh and determined and Emma blinked once when he snapped his mouth shut.

And this wasn’t just about hockey.

Or the Olympics.

She just didn’t know what it was about.

“You’ve thought about this,” she said, not even bothering to keep the accusation out of her voice. “When? You fell asleep like two seconds after we got back last night.” Killian made a contradictory noise, grimacing slightly and Emma was dimly aware of the growing audience around her, the New York Rangers Olympic contingent making its way into the lobby to stay on track of yet another schedule.

“I woke up,” Killian said simply.

“When?” “Does it matter?” “Humor me.” “My hand hurt,” he muttered. “And I woke up and you were finally asleep, Swan. If any of is going to be upset about other not sleeping, I think I get priority on that.” Emma’s shoulders sagged, all the fight falling out of her almost as soon as she met his worried gaze. He hadn’t moved his hand.

Tell him the truth.

Now.

She bit down on her lip, trying to find any oxygen and it was more difficult than it should have been. All of this was more difficult than it should have been.

“You shouldn’t play,” Emma mumbled, well aware she was fighting a losing battle. Killian Jones, captain of anything, was not going to walk away. “You don’t have to play.” “I know. I want to.” “You are impossible.” “True,” he agreed, thumb tracing along her jaw. “But you love me for it.” Emma nodded slowly, leaning down before she could remember that there were half a dozen people staring at them, and kissed him, trying to prove she understood in some kind of overwhelming, life-type way.

“I love you,” she muttered, hardly even pulling away from him when she spoke. She could feel him smile against her.

“I love you too, Swan. It’s going to be fine. And I’m absolutely going to win Humbert’s bet.” She laughed softly, pushing her fingers into his hair and Ruby had started tapping her heel impatiently at some point.

“You guys done, then?” she asked and Emma glanced over her shoulder to find her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Regina was glaring at both of them. “We’ve kind of got a media schedule to stick to.” “I helped write the media schedule, I know how it works,” Emma groaned. She tried to move, twist around so she could at least look at everyone face on or, maybe, stand up – and Killian’s arm just tightened around her waist, some kind of unspoken demand to stay exactly where she was.

“Alright, Miss Schedule, then what’s the plan?” “Did you just call me Miss Schedule?” “Are you not just leaving a trail of post-it notes in your never-sleeping wake?” “I slept through the entire night last night!” Ruby pursed her lips, a thin line of semi-judgemental red and she glanced over Emma’s shoulder at Killian for some kind of confirmation. He nodded. “God,” Emma whined. “I am sitting right here. If Killian gets to make stupid hockey decisions, then everyone needs to stop being so concerned about my sleeping habits.” “This is really dumb, Cap,” Ruby admitted and Regina made a noise in the back of her throat. “What happens if it gets worse?” “It’s not going to get worse,” Killian argued. Regina, it seemed, could not stop scoffing. “Gina, if you’ve got something to say, now is the time to do it. We don’t have time on the schedule for some glare-off here.” Regina glared even harder and Emma bit back her smile, eyes darting towards Killian to find him smiling at her already, kissing just behind her ear.

“You’ve done a lot of dumb stuff since we’ve gotten here,” Regina hissed, leaning forward slightly for emphasis. “But this is, easily, the second dumbest thing.” “Second?” Emma repeated, not expecting that at all. Killian’s body tensed underneath her and he winced when he pulled his left arm up.

“Easily.” “Regina,” Killian warned, but she just glared in response.

“Ask El. She’ll say the same thing.” “Oh my God.” “She is really upset,” Emma added. Killian couldn’t really slump in the chair, but he did his best to try anyway, shoulders sagging a bit with the weight of his frustration. “Although this whole conversation seems kind of pointless.” Killian lifted his eyebrows and Will chuckled under his breath. Emma hadn’t realized he’d shown up too. “God, Cap,” Will muttered. “I think she can read your mind now.” “I expect at least one goal, Jones,” Emma said. “But I’ll take two assists too. At least.” Killian grinned at her, fingers dancing up her back again and Emma twisted at the touch, arching against his chest until he grinned, the force of it settling in the pit of her stomach. “I mean, they’re not going to hit you again,” she reasoned. “The entire roster would get fined to shit if they did that.”

“Exactly,” Killian agreed. “We go see Toronto this afternoon and he’ll make me move my fingers and it’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe by the time we get to Friday my hand’ll be slightly blue and that just seems patriotic.” “Blue seat blue.” “That doesn’t seem healthy.” “Eh, I’m not a doctor. Or an athletic trainer from Toronto.”

Robin laughed slightly – the look on his face making it painfully obvious that he always knew Killian was going to play – and Emma hoped they’d at least get a few shifts on the same line in the gold medal game.

They were going to play for a gold medal.

They were going to win a gold medal.

Ruby made quick work of going over the schedule – two-hour car rides and, somehow, Roland and Henry were going to be in their car and Emma couldn’t quite bring herself to be mad about it when she saw the look on both of their faces, something akin to overjoyed at the prospect of game-planning with Killian. And there was media all afternoon and Emma didn’t have to film Rangerstown stuff again until game-day, some kind of gold medal extravaganza with Will and Phillip that she was already dreading, and, eventually, she hoped, there would be five minutes to tell Killian the truth.

There wasn’t.

Hours later and she was slumped against the wall in the media room at the arena, chin resting on her knees as she tried to make sure her vision didn’t actually start blurring in front of her.

The questions were all the same. They kept asking the same goddamn questions, just using different words as if that would somehow get a different answer out of them.

It didn’t.

Are you excited for the game? The US didn’t medal in Sochi does that play a role in your approach? How’s your hand feeling, Cap? Can you tell us anything about the injury, Cap? Have you gotten out onto the ice yet since the hit, Cap?

Emma groaned at the latest rendition of the same question – this reporter opting to go the less traditional route of asking Robin and Will if they thought Killian getting hit would impeded his ability to skate – and she stopped even trying to update social media.

She saw a pair of shoes make their way into her line of vision, a low chuckle inching closer to her and Emma glanced up reluctantly when someone started talking to her.

“What?” she sighed and Graham’s smile widened. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” Graham shrugged, crouching down to rest a hand on Emma’s knee. “Shouldn’t you be SnapChatting or something? Doesn’t the public need to know about Captain America’s hand and status for Friday?” “If you’re looking for insider trading, you came to the wrong source.” “I’m not,” he laughed, sinking onto the floor and he was absolutely going to wrinkle his dress pants. “I just figured you’d be here and I’d say hi before I do actually have to get on the ice.” “You guys going to wreck later?” “Look who’s searching for insider trading now.” Emma shrugged, glancing back up towards the media table when she heard Killian actually sighed in response to a question. “So,” Graham said pointedly. “Things are going well, I see.” “Don’t be an ass.”

“That guy’s going to get fined so badly by the league. They were bordering somewhere close to dirty the whole third period.” “Who knew Finland could be so ruthless, right?” “Pride or something.” “Misplaced,” Emma grumbled and Graham laughed again. “They need to stop asking him the same question though, he’s going to just start checking reporters in the middle of media.” “At least it’d keep things exciting.” “Are you not excited?” Graham twisted his head slightly, staring at Emma like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to actually ask the question practically written on his face. “What?”

“Are you?” he asked. “Am I what?” “Excited.” Emma made a face, turning to gape at him. Graham looked terrified. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled, ducking his eyes and chewing nervously on his lip. “Nothing, Em?” “Nothing what? You’re honestly just saying words.” He took a deep breath, teeth threatening to rip his lip in half and Emma tried to stay patient. It didn’t really work. “What do you know that I don’t?” she asked, mind racing back to Ruby and the second dumbest thing Killian had done in South Korea.

“Nothing.” “Oh my God, if I hear that word one more time.” “I don’t, Em, not really,” Graham promised and there was an earnestness in his gaze that nearly made her fall over. “Just what I’ve read.” “Read?” Emma repeated, practically screeching out the word and she knew she’d drawn the attention of all three New York Rangers sitting a few feet away from her. Graham looked as if he now feared for his life.

Graham rolled his eyes and the reporters were, finally, starting to move, the whole herd of them shifting like some sort of recorder-wielding unit. Emma glanced down at her phone – that left them with five hours until game time and scouting Canada and they were the only ones going.

The New York Rangers did not travel to goddamn South Korea to simply play hockey. They were going to win.

And they bought semifinal game tickets to prove it.

“Em, you can’t yell like that, Jones is going to kill me,” Graham whispered, head darting up when he heard shoes behind her.

“What are you reading, Humbert? And if you tell me nothing again, you don’t need to worry about Killian. I’ll murder you with my heel right now.” “That’s harsh, Em.” “Answer the question.” “There’s just been some stuff. On the internet.”

Emma rolled her eyes, frustration rushing through every single one of her veins until she was certain she was practically made of it. She was going to murder the internet. That was impossible. She didn’t care.

“About Killian?” Emma pressed and Graham hissed in his breath, squeezing one eye shut. “The whole team, then?” He clicked his tongue and Emma’s frustration was replaced with something that felt a bit like dread. She felt like she’d fallen through the ice.

“What?” she continued, resisting the urge to actually start punching things. “And why are you reading that shit?” “Not intentionally,” Graham said. “It got sent to me.” “By who?” “You’re going to be super pissed if I tell you that.” “We’re already treading water in super pissed. Who, Humbert?” She didn’t get an answer. Of course not. There were footsteps and three sets of shoes and she could already hear all of them tugging their ties off, like some sort of anti-official movement.

“Humbert,” Killian said, nodding towards Graham as he held his hand out towards Emma. “You ok, love?” “Yeah,” Emma promised. She took his hand, letting him tug her up against his side and Will was staring at Graham like he’d just committed treason.

Which didn’t make sense.

Since he was Canadian.

The Olympics were stupid.

And she was exhausted. She’d, finally, slept through the entire night and it wasn’t nearly enough. Every single one of her muscles felt heavy, head falling back on Killian’s shoulder like there was a magnet there and she still couldn’t quite understand whatever it was Will and Graham were doing.

Robin shuffled in between all of them, hands stuck in his pockets and a nervous look on his face, like he was interrupting some kind of war council. He shot a warning look Will’s direction, something that seemed to scream relax and Scarlet nodded once, taking a step back behind Killian – like he was flanking him.

“What is happening right now?” Emma asked, exasperated and exhausted and a slew of other adjectives that didn’t have a place in the schedule on her phone.

“Nothing,” three voices answered at once and she didn’t even to try to mask her groan, pressing her face into the collar of Killian’s shirt.

He didn’t say anything, just squeezed her hand and Emma got the distinct impression he was as confused as she was. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice, Humbert?” he asked, nodding in the general direction of the rink.

“I had a few minutes,” Graham answered. “Wanted to see Em.” Killian hummed in understanding. “Of course. Good luck, later.” It was a dismissal without actually saying the words, a quiet nod of his head a goodbye without muttering the letters out loud and every one of them knew it.

Graham twisted his neck, glancing back at Will as if he was searching for confirmation and he scoffed when he didn’t get it. “Right,” he said slowly, reaching forward to squeeze Emma’s arm. “I’ll see you later, Emma.” And that was new.

That was important.

He hadn’t called her Emma in years – probably not since he’d introduced himself in Vancouver – and she still had no idea what was happening.

“Don’t hit anybody later,” she said, tugging slightly on his jacket and Graham grinned at her before turning on his heels and jogging towards the locker room.

She waited until he was around the corner before turning on all three of them – their eyes wide when they saw the scowl on her face and Will even took two steps away from here.

“Are you guys done?” Emma asked and Robin nodded slowly. Will was trying not to laugh. Killian hadn’t moved an inch, just lifted his eyebrows when he pulled one side of his mouth up. He was actually trying to smirk at her.

“Do not pull that right now, Jones,” she hissed, pushing against his shoulders with as much force as she could muster. Emma took half a step towards him, fully intent on telling him where he could put his goddamn smirk, but she’d barely lifted her foot before she felt her stomach heave, flipping up into her lungs and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stay upright.

“Emma,” Killian snapped, both hands coming to rest on her hips. He’d forgotten entirely about the precautionary brace.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she mumbled and he laughed under his breath.

“Yeah and my hand isn’t swollen to hell.” “Still?” “It’s only been a few hours, Swan.” Good. Back to Swan. Back to nicknames. That was easier. She couldn’t quite cope when he kept staring at her like she was going to break at any given moment.

Just maybe meltdown.

Again.

She wished she was home. She was wished she was in their  home with the pillows and the Conn-Smythe trophy and vaguely reliable pregnancy tests.

“I could beat him up,” Will offered and Emma was only half convinced he was talking about Graham.

“It’s not worth the fine,” she argued.

“Eh, I don’t know. You’ve grown on me.” “Was that a compliment?” “It was if you’re Scarlet,” Killian muttered against her hair. He’d pulled her against his chest at some point, dragging her flats over the floor and rubbing out circles against her back. It almost made her feel better.

Tell him. Buy a fucking pregnancy test. Ask someone to get more potato dumplings.

“He’s a work in progress, you see,” Robin added, grinning at Emma and, well, if she couldn’t have David there to serve in some sort of dad capacity, then maybe an actual dad would work too. “Eventually he’ll graduate to full-fledged adult.”

“I’m standing right here,” Will grumbled. “And can we go eat before we scout? Because I can’t do this on an empty stomach.” “This being the slightly cheating idea of scouting a game before you guys get film on them?” Emma asked. “It’s not cheating, Swan,” Killian argued. “It’s just seizing opportunities. Just goes to show you what kind of draw Canada and Sweden is. Getting tickets was almost painfully easy.” “Regina got the tickets.” “Semantics.”

The arena was only half filled when the whole lot of them filed into their seats a few minutes before puck drop, drinks in their hands and snacks for Henry and Roland and she hadn’t been able to actually get food before the game, a website disaster stateside keeping Emma and Ruby practically quarantined in the media room for the better part of the last five hours.

Killian bought her dumplings.

And snuck them into an Olympic arena.

“You’re getting good at that,” Emma pointed out when he sank into the seat next to her, hoisting his feet up on the empty row in front of them. “And look who’s a child now.” He grinned at her. “Please, Swan, I’m not going to start singing the national anthem any time soon, so that’s out and both Henry and Rol are way better behaved than Scarlet will be once Canada starts decimating Sweden.” “That much faith in the Swedes, huh?” “I have no faith in the Swedes at all,” Killian said easily. “They don’t have a goalie. You can’t win without a goalie.” “Have you even talked to the American goalie since we got here?” Killian shrugged. “John? Sure. John’s an ok goalie. I mean it helps he’s got an offense in front of him that knows how to score.” “You’re contradicting yourself. And what’s John’s last name?” “Blues.” “John Blues.” “Yup.” “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” His eyes flashed up towards hers and Emma bit her lip tightly – ignoring whatever her pulse was doing in tandem with whatever her stomach couldn’t seem to stop doing and all those symptoms they explained to you in middle school were a complete fucking lie.

Except that one.

That one where she wanted to make out with her boyfriend all the goddamn time.

He needed to stop staring at her like that. Or flirting with her. It might have been the flirting.

“John Blues,” Killian repeated, smile settling onto his face with an ease Emma hadn’t seen since just before their date had been interrupted. “Good goalie, just happens to play for St. Louis.” “The St. Louis Blues. Seems awfully convenient.” “I didn’t name him, Swan.” “Ah, well, yeah that would definitely be the strangest part of this conversation.” “His last name is Allen,” Will groaned, not even bothering to turn around. Emma laughed, swinging her legs over Killian’s outstretched ones and stabbing a forkful of potato dumplings. Ok, so maybe two symptoms were right.

“And anyway,” Will continued as they stood up for anthems, keeping one hand trained on Roland’s shoulder so he didn’t just start singing the praises of America. “Cap would never name a kid something as boring as John.” She felt her eyes widen and they weren’t supposed to be talking during anthems. Some kind of representatives of the United States they were turning out to be.

A kid.

She’d accepted it, knew it was happening, even without the test of the whole list of symptoms she’d learned at a school she couldn’t remember the name of.

But she hadn’t thought about the rest of it, the future of a kid and Killian Jones, father, was enough to make Emma weak at the knees.

They’d have to name it.

They’d have to name a kid and sign a birth certificate and raise it. It wouldn’t be an it. It’d be a her or a him and it would have a name .

“Fuck,” Emma breathed while the music switched from one anthem to another. Killian glanced in her direction, curiosity practically falling off him and she just shook her head. They weren’t supposed to be talking.

The anthems were over and the puck dropped and they all had a job to do – certain things they were supposed to watch out for or keep track of and every adult in a three-row radius had a pad of paper balanced on their knee.

It was exciting for all of five minutes, a scramble in the corner for the puck, but then the game seemed to come to an almost audible screeching halt and….nothing happened.

For two and a half periods.

No score, no hits, no nothing.

Emma tried to stop herself from yawning, but it didn’t really work and the sound had a domino effect across all of them –��all of them slumped in chairs and draped over each other, limbs resting where they probably shouldn’t and heads on shoulders like some kind of human train of exhaustion.

“Man, this sucks,” Will grumbled midway through the third, sighing dramatically when Sweden iced the puck.

Again.

“How many is that now?” Robin asked, glancing behind Killian who was supposed to be keeping track of icings, offsides and something else Emma couldn’t remember. She was too goddamn bored.

Killian made a noise, shrugging slightly and shooting Emma an apologetic glance when he jostled her head. “I honestly don’t know. I stopped keeping track when we got into double digits.” “It’s weirding me out that they don’t have to actually touch the puck. That’s why this is taking eight hundred years.” “At least.” Canada won its ensuing faceoff and they all tried to actually pretend like they were interested in what was going on, but the puck got knocked out of the zone and that must have been the fifteenth offsides whistle that period.

Roland had started sprinting through empty aisles at some point, not even slowing down when Regina muttered to be careful and Henry started racing him with six minutes left in the period.

“No jinx or anything,” Will said, shifting his arm over Belle’s shoulder. “But this is making me feel pretty good about our chances here. Even if Cap’s hand is still fucked up.” “Scarlet,” Killian sighed and Will twisted back to stare at the ice, a scrum against the boards as half the players tried to move the puck back onto open ice.

“We could use a fight.” “You get ejected for a fight,” Ruby muttered, barely even lifting her head off its place from where it was resting on Belle’s arm. “Honestly read the rule book, Scarlet.” “I thought that was just Cap promising the league.” “He did, but it’s part of the Olympic rules too. He’s just given the league an avenue to fine you guys if you screw it up. So don’t do something stupid on Friday because you think Canada is dumb. Or because John Blues isn’t actually a very good goalie.”

“He’s not,” Will agreed. “The only reason we’re here is because Cap’s good in a shootout.” Emma could feel Killian shift in the seat, trying to pull her against his side like that it was some kind of comfort and, instead, just yanking her into the armrest. It pushed into her side painfully and Emma gritted her teeth so she didn’t actually cry out.

“Jeez, Jones,” Ruby said. “You’re going to kill your girlfriend before you guys even get to major life goals.” She smiled at them when they both made noise, a mix of disbelief and objection and neither one of them actually said anything.

Emma pushed up, pulling her hair back over her shoulder and something had to happen in this game soon or, she was positive, Killian was going to stare at her so hard she was going to turn into stone.

And it did.

“Hey,” Robin muttered, drawing their attention as he pointed to the ice and a blur Emma recognized almost immediately.

He wasn’t nearly as fast as Killian, but Graham could outskate anybody on Sweden’s roster, darting up the ice and through defenders after another icing. He’d just come out for his shift, fresh legs against an exhausted Swedish line, and it was almost too easy.

He didn’t even have to make a move – already behind the defense before they realized he’d moved between faceoff circles, skidding to a stop just in front of the net and putting the puck into the right corner of the goal.

“Shit,” Will muttered and, well, that was about as good a way to phrase it as anything else. “I’ve never seen him move like with Vancouver.” “It’s different here,” Emma explained. Killian’s head snapped towards her and maybe she could read his mind. “It’s a big deal for him, Canada, the medals, the whole nine yards. He’s going to pull out all the stops.” She met Killian’s eyes with a soft smile, trying to will him to understand her understanding and brushed his fingers against her jaw.

Game first. Everything else second.

“Ah, so he’s the Canadian version of Cap then,” Will said. Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.” “You like Cap better, Emma?” “I lied before, you’re absolutely the child of the entire group. Do you have to make sure Robin holds onto your keys so you don’t lose them?” Will looked affronted, but Belle laughed softly, grabbing her bag off the floor and pulling out a keyring. “I have them,” she said, shaking them for emphasis.

“And why would Robin have them anyway?” Will asked. “I mean, let’s be real here, Cap’s definitely the de facto dad. He’s like everyone’s protector.” The final horn went off and Emma breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Will completely as Roland announced he was riding back with her and Killian.

They were, officially, going to play Canada in the gold medal game.

“Hey,” Killian whispered later, twisting slightly to lean over Roland who’d taken up residence in the middle of the backseat, head on Emma’s lap and feet draped over Killian’s legs. “Don’t fall asleep on me, love.” Emma hummed in the back of her throat, pulling her head away from the window. Roland had fallen asleep twenty minutes into the drive, exhausted from his complete play-by-play of how they were going to win a gold medal on Friday. He’d gotten a bit of help from Henry, who’d claimed the front set as his, resting his feet on the dashboard in a move that Emma was certain he’d also picked up from Will.

“I’m not,” Emma mumbled, but her voice was scratchy and she was certain she looked as exhausted as she felt. Killian laughed at her, grabbing hold of the hand that had been toying with Roland’s hair and tugging it up to his lips, kissing along the edge of her knuckles until she was close to actually giggling.

That probably would have woken up the kids.

“Yeah, you look it,” Killian said and Emma stuck her tongue out at him. He shifted in the seat, pulling Roland up with one hand wrapped around his waist and the kid barely made a noise when he moved, resting his head on Killian’s chest until he was balled up against him.

Emma’s heart stopped.

Or maybe started beating at a completely unhealthy rate.

“You’re so good at that,” she muttered before she could stop herself, eyes going wide when she realized what she’d said.

“What, love?” “This,” she said, like that explained anything. “Being with Henry and Rol and they both think you’re actually Captain America.” “I think they’re both old enough to understand the difference between comics and real life.” “That’s not what I meant at all.” “What then?” Emma bit her lip, not sure how she’d explain it without just telling him the truth and, God, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know, to see his eyes light up the way she hoped they would, to feel his lips crash against hers because he’d never been so goddamn happy in his entire life.

She’d never been so goddamn happy in her entire life.

“Swan?” Killian prompted, pulling his good hand away from Roland’s back to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I get why you’re going to play,” she answered. “And, well, I’d do the same thing. I’m...not mad and I’m almost not worried,” she laughed softly, trying to smile when Killian’s fingers pushed into her hair. “I get it, just...be careful. Please.” He blinked once, mouth opening and closing twice before he leaned forward to kiss her the way she’d wanted him to all day.

Emma sighed against him, any of the tension that had taken up residence in between her shoulders melting as soon as Killian’s lips hit hers and she closed her eyes lightly, trying to remember how easy it was to fall into this.

There was a sleeping eight-year-old perched on his leg and a sleeping teenager in the front seat and they were still forty minutes away from the hotel, but Emma couldn’t seem to bring herself to move away from him, heat sinking into the pit of her stomach and down into her toes and she needed to tell him.

“Would you really pick something different?” Emma asked, the words falling out of her mouth without much thought or sense and Killian stared at her like she’d started speaking a different language.

“What?” “Oh,” she sputtered. “Um, what Scarlet was saying before. About John Blues or Allen or whatever his name is. He said you’d pick a better name.”

It was dark – twisting through mountain roads and there were more stars here than they’d ever be able to see in New York, but that didn’t do much to make him any more visible in the backseat of a league-provided car and Emma had to strain her eyes to try and make out his reaction.

“Pick a better name for a grown man?” Killian asked and the confusion in his voice was obvious even if she couldn’t quite see his face.

“Or, you know, for anyone.” This was a disaster. She was a complete disaster. And she couldn’t really breathe anymore, any comfort she’d gotten out of making out in the backseat gone with a rush of misplaced curiosity and maybe she wasn’t just worried about his hand.

She was every emotion she could name – all at once.

“Anyone,” Killian repeated slowly, like he was testing out the word on his tongue and Emma could practically hear him thinking.

“Yeah, just like…” “Anyone.” Emma shrugged, not certain he could see her when the car took a particularly hard turn and Roland grumbled against Killian’s shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. Her heart was in her throat. “It’s fine mate,” Killian muttered. “Go back to sleep.” “Are we almost there?” Henry asked, voice scratchy when he leaned around the seat with still half-closed eyes.

“A half an hour I think,” Emma answered. She leaned forward to brush his hair out of his eyes and he smiled at her, humming in agreement before twisting back around and pulling his legs up underneath him.

They didn’t say anything for what felt like the rest of the car ride and Emma was half convinced Killian had fallen asleep too. She nearly jumped when he spoke again.

“You are too, Swan,” he said.

“I’m what?” “Good at this.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, positive he had some sort of sixth sense for whenever she was feeling something particularly strongly and she couldn’t just start crying in the backseat in the middle of a mountain range.

“Yeah,” she croaked out, hating how small and nervous her voice sounded and she could hear him nod, hair brushing against the headrest behind him.

“Better,” Killian promised. He laced his fingers through hers, squeezing tightly and his thumb brushed against her palm, a slow, measured rhythm that seemed to time up with the pulse she could hear pounding in her head.

“Thanks.” They should stop having these one-word conversations, they should talk and use actual sentences and maybe be able to see each other’s actual reactions instead of just depending on hands and brushes of hair. And they'd never really talked about it before, were far from planning on any of this and the mix of everything made Emma's stomach shift into her throat. 

They had to win first.

“Matthew,” he said, mumbling the word so softly Emma wasn’t sure she’d actually heard it.

She blinked blearily, hand finding its way to her ring out of instinct. “Matthew?” “Mr. V’s first name is Mathias. It’s, uh, well, it’s painfully Norwegian and I wouldn’t want…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath and turning to stare at Emma. Roland was still asleep. And they must have been close to the hotel.

“It’s a good compromise,” she breathed. “Not quite as intense as Mathias. Plus that’s a whole mouthful to announce after scoring goals.” He laughed under his breath, pulling Roland around again to kiss her temple lightly and Emma bit down on the inside of her lip.

“Exactly,” Killian said, hauling Roland up against his side when they pulled up to the front door of the hotel. “Wouldn't want anyone to be embarrassed.”

Emma smiled, hand going to Henry’s shoulders when he stumbled out of the car and she directed him back towards a waiting Robin and Regina. She tugged on the front of her jacket, fingers brushing across her abdomen and she tried to take a deep breath.

She fell asleep an hour later, wrapped up in Killian’s arms and doing her best not to roll onto a precautionary brace while the name flitted through her brain.

[nyc-uws]

What You Can Do to Avoid the New Coronavirus Variant Right Now

It’s more contagious than the original and spreading quickly. Upgrade your mask and double down on precautions to protect yourself.

By Tara Parker-Pope   Jan. 28, 2021

New variants of the coronavirus continue to emerge. A few have caused concern in the United States because they are so contagious and spreading fast. To avoid them, you’ll need to double down on the same pandemic precautions that have kept you safe so far.

The variant known as B.1.1.7., which was first identified in Britain has the potential to infect an estimated 50 percent more people, and researchers have begun to think that it may also be slightly more deadly. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has predicted that this variant could become the dominant source of infection in the United States by March. A variant first reported in South Africa has found it’s way to South Carolina. And scientists are studying whether a variant with a different mutation, and first found in Denmark, along with one identified in California, have caused a surge of cases in California.

The new variants appear to latch onto our cells more efficiently. (You can find a detailed look inside one of the variants here.) The change suggests it could take less virus and less time in the same room with an infected person for someone to become ill. People infected with the variant may also shed larger quantities of virus, which increases the risk to people around them.

“The exact mechanism in which it’s more transmissible isn’t entirely known,” said Nathan D. Grubaugh, assistant professor and epidemiologist at the Yale School of Public Health. “It might just be that when you’re infected, you’re exhaling more infectious virus.”

  So how do you avoid a more contagious version of the coronavirus? I spoke with some of the leading virus and infectious disease experts about what makes the new variant so worrisome and what we can do about it. Here’s what they had to say.

How can I protect myself from the new coronavirus variant?

The variants spread the same way the coronavirus has always spread. You’re most likely to contract the virus if you spend time in an enclosed space breathing the air of an infected person. The same things that have protected you from the original strain should help protect you from a variant, although you may need to be more rigorous. Wear a two- or three-layer mask. Don’t spend time indoors with people not from your household. Avoid crowds, and keep your distance. Wash your hands often, and avoid touching your face.

Your Coronavirus Tracker: We'll send you the latest data for places you care about each day.

“The first thing I say to people is that it’s not a different virus. All the things we have learned about this virus still apply,” said Dr. Ashish K. Jha, dean of the Brown University School of Public Health. “It’s not like this variant is somehow magically spreading through other means. Anything risky under the normal strain just becomes riskier with the variant.”

And let’s face it, after months of pandemic living, many of us have become lax about our Covid safety precautions. Maybe you’ve let down your guard, and you’re spending time indoors and unmasked with trusted friends. Or perhaps you’ve been dining in restaurants or making more trips to the grocery store each week than you did at the start of lockdowns. The arrival of the variant means you should try to cut back on potential exposures where you can and double down on basic precautions for the next few months until you and the people around you get vaccinated.

“The more I hear about the new variants, the more concerned I am,” said Linsey Marr, professor of civil and environmental engineering at Virginia Tech and one of the world’s leading aerosol scientists. “I think there is no room for error or sloppiness in following precautions, whereas before, we might have been able to get away with letting one slide.”

Should I upgrade my mask?

You should be wearing a high-quality mask when you run errands, go shopping or find yourself in a situation where you’re spending time indoors with people who don’t live with you, Dr. Marr said. “I am now wearing my best mask when I go to the grocery store,” she said. “The last thing I want to do is get Covid-19 in the month before I get vaccinated.”

Dr. Marr’s lab recently tested 11 mask materials and found that the right cloth mask, properly fitted, does a good job of filtering viral particles of the size most likely to cause infection. The best mask has three layers — two cloth layers with a filter sandwiched in between. Masks should be fitted around the bridge of the nose and made of flexible material to reduce gaps. Head ties create a better fit than ear loops.

If you don’t want to buy a new mask, a simple solution is to wear an additional mask when you find yourself in closer proximity to strangers. I wear a single mask when I walk my dog or exercise outdoors. But if I’m going to a store, taking a taxi or getting in the subway, I double mask by using a disposable surgical mask and covering it with my cloth mask.

Do I need an N95 medical mask?

While medical workers who come into close contact with sick patients rely on the gold-standard N95 masks, you don’t need that level of protection if you’re avoiding group gatherings, limiting shopping trips and keeping your distance from others.

“N95s are hard to get,” said Dr. Jha. “I don’t think people should think that’s what they need. Certainly there are a lot of masks out in the marketplace that are pretty good.”

If you’re working in an office or grocery store, or find yourself in a situation where you want added mask protection, you can get an alternative to the N95. Dr. Jha suggested using a KF94 mask, a type of mask made in South Korea that can be purchased easily online. It resembles an N95, with some differences. It’s made of a similar nonwoven material that blocks 94 percent of the hardest-to-trap viral particles. But the KF94 has ear loops, instead of elastic head bands, so it won’t fit as snugly as an N95.

The KF94 is also disposable — you can buy a pack of 20 for about $40 on Amazon. While you can let a KF94 mask air dry and reuse it a few times, it can’t be laundered and won’t last as long as a cloth mask. One solution is to save your KF94 mask for higher-risk situations — like riding a subway, spending time in a store or going to a doctor’s appointment. Use your cloth mask for outdoor errands, exercise or walking the dog.

Are there additional ways to reduce my risk?

Getting the vaccine is the ultimate way to reduce risk. But until then, take a look at your activities and try reducing the time and number of exposures to other people.

For instance, if you now go to the store two or three times a week, cut back to just once a week. If you’ve been spending 30 to 45 minutes in the grocery store, cut your time down to 15 or 20 minutes. If the store is crowded, come back later. If you’re waiting in line, be mindful of staying at least six feet apart from the people ahead of you and behind you. Try delivery or curbside pickup, if that’s an option for you.

If you’ve been spending time indoors with other people who aren’t from your household, consider skipping those events until you and your friends get vaccinated. If you must spend time with others, wear your best mask, make sure the space is well ventilated (open windows and doors) and keep the visit as short as possible. It’s still safest to take your social plans outdoors. And if you are thinking about air travel, it’s a good idea to reschedule given the high number of cases around the country and the emergence of the more contagious variant.

“The new variants are making me think twice about my plan to teach in-person, which would have been with masks and with good ventilation anyway,” Dr. Marr said. “They’re making me think twice about getting on an airplane.”

Will the current Covid vaccines work against the new variants?

Experts are cautiously optimistic that the current generation of vaccines will be mostly effective against the emerging coronavirus variants. Earlier this month, Pfizer and BioNTech announced that their Covid vaccine works against one of the key mutations present in some of the variants. That’s good news, but some data also suggest that variants with certain mutations, particularly the one first seen in South Africa, may be more resistant to the vaccines. While the data are concerning, experts said the current vaccines generate extremely high levels of antibodies, and they are likely to at least prevent serious illness in people who are immunized and get infected.

“The reason why I’m cautiously optimistic is that from what we know about how vaccines work, it’s not just one antibody that provides all the protection,” said Dr. Adam Lauring, associate professor of infectious disease at the University of Michigan. “When you get vaccinated you generate antibodies all over the spike protein. That makes it less likely that one mutation here or there is going to leave you completely unprotected. That’s what gives me reason for optimism that this is going to be OK in terms of the vaccine, but there’s more work to be done.”

If I catch Covid-19, will I know if I have the new variant?

Probably not. If you test positive for the coronavirus, the standard PCR test can’t definitively determine if you have the variant or the original strain. While some PCR test results can signal if a person is likely to be infected with a variant, that information probably won’t be shared with patients. The only way to know for sure which variant is circulating is to use gene sequencing technology, but that technology is not used to alert individuals of their status. While some public health and university laboratories are using genomic surveillance to track the prevalence of variants in a community, the United States doesn’t yet have a large-scale, nationwide system for checking coronavirus genomes for new mutations.

Treatment for Covid-19 is the same whether you have the original strain or the variant. You can read more about what to do if you get infected here.

Are children more at risk from the new variant?

Children appear to get infected with the variant at about the same rate as the original strain. A large study by health officials in Britain found that young children are only about half as likely as adults to transmit the variant to others. While that’s good news, the highly contagious nature of the variant means more children will get the virus, even if they are still proportionately less contagious and less prone to getting infected than adults. You can learn more here.

If I’ve already had Covid-19, am I likely to have the same level of immunity to the new strain?

Most experts agree that once you’ve had Covid-19, your body has some level of natural immunity to help fight off a second infection — although it’s not known how long the protection lasts. The variants circulating in Brazil and South Africa appear to have mutations that allow the virus to evade natural antibodies and reinfect someone who has already had the virus. The concern is based on lab tests using antibodies of people with a previous infection, so whether that translates to more reinfections in the real world isn’t known. The effect of the vaccine against these variants isn’t known yet either. While all of this sounds frightening, scientists are hopeful that even if the vaccines don’t fully protect against new variations of the virus, the antibodies generated by the vaccine still will protect people from more serious illness.

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/19/well/live/covid-b117-variant-advice.html?utm_source=pocket-newtab