#small doey au

[wizardandpirate]

Since the Lil Doeys are still clay, I'd imagine that when Kevin misbehaves, Matthew would fuse one of their arms together like one of those makeshift kiddie leash just to keep an eye on him...

But the question is, do they still have their clay-powers, or have they reverted to a "too young" state of mind that they have to relearn it (like stretching and walking through grates)?

I love that that's perfect. Can't hold him back from within the same body anymore, so, makeshift leash, go! Just barely holding him back from beating up the player(/silly).

Their powers probably wouldn't change much, but I do think because of the whole ice incident that too much stretching around would be painful/difficult. The leash thing you mentioned would likely be fine as it wouldn't take much effort, but fitting through things like tiny wall cracks would probably be really hard. Makes me think of a scenario where one of them gets scared and tries to run off by squeezing through something, but it just hurts a lot:(

[bigbronintendo]

I once had a vision 🎩💙

[ablobwhowrites]

When I say I NEED that fanfic where reader keeps them in their house I MEAN IT.

(For the first post of this kinda ideas is here. And the second part to this au is here But this is kinda more of explaining the idea of this au that I call: New home sweet home au. And yeah my yap session is starting here rn and some rambles about other stuff too so be warned mega yap session.)

Basically this idea is just ex employee y/n just being like "fuck it" and getting the toys out of the factory and put them at their house and that's was the only plan. Now they got about a shit ton of trauma and injuries and 17 traumatized alive toys who are now living in their house so thats cool.

y/n was a kinda tries to make them feel at home especially after all thats happened and the other toys y/n couldn't save. They try to make the toys they did save feel better and the toys do and well once they feel at home, it's chaotic is the basics of it. And to toys who tries to kill y/n (kinda includes kinda doey for his very understandable crash out but he feels bad for it) try to apologize by trying to be helpful to y/n and trying to protect y/n from anything that tries to hurt them as well. Plus miss delights face was also kinda fixed as y/n tried to fix it with some molding clay but fixed it to the best of their abilities and it's looks good but y/n is trying to get crafty corn to help them with repairing miss delights face because y/n nearly had several heart attacks because of seeing miss delight in the darkness at night when they try to go into the kitchen for a snack.

One night there was robbers who broke into the house once to steal stuff but mommy long legs and catnap heard them and yeah, the robbers ended up being torn apart cause Mommy long legs and catnap ain't going to let their new home and the person who gave them a second chance to die or get robbed (yarnaby ate the evidence). Once y/n was sitting on the couch watching SpongeBob with dogday and basically released the wildest like it went like this.

*y/n and dogday watching SpongeBob*

Y/n: "you know I'm in a metal band and once at a small concert, I was clocked in the head with a phone being thrown on the stage and ended up getting into a fight over a bag of cheeze-it's?"

*Dog day pauses and slowly looks over at y/n, who keeps watching the TV*

Dog day: "what made you remember that while watching SpongeBob!?"

I do imagine that doey (and the rest of the toys) get worried when y/n leaves the house cause like what if something happens and they can't help so they all made a rule that y/n has to call very 30 minutes (or less) and if they don't call in 30 minutes then all hell breaks loose as they all think y/n is dead and never coming back until they do and end up having do Uber eats their groceries for the next 2 weeks. I imagine that y/n has some old game consoles that their parents gave them and some new consoles that y/n doesn't use anymore but they give the toys the old consoles like the Nintendo entertainment or game cube as I do Imagine that if y/n used their new consoles for them. They would flip out cause like all the toys (especially the younger toys) have never seen a advanced game like this as like playtime co was open to 1930 to 1995 so I imagine they only remember the old consoles and I do imagine like doey playing Super Mario Bros on the Nintendo entertainment or any of the toys playing different Nintendo games is just a funny idea for me.

Also imagining that y/n somehow got daddy long legs and baby long legs as well and totally imagining that mommy long legs wearing hair curlers and daddy long legs using some for his mustache cause like you can't tell me they won't do that, maybe even the baby has one for that one strand of hair

But the looming fear of the prototype still is in them. I mean of course the prototype could never leave the factory but with all those materials and what the prototype might be thinking. It's not always out of the question of the prototype will try something like try and leave the factory it's trapped in. Who knows but the toys put all their trust on y/n and y/n has faxed worse and almost got eaten alive by smiling critters and Nightmares critters has weighed on them a bit but could be worse.

(so that's the main basis of this au idea and if you guys like it and want more don't feel shy if you guys wanna request for this au for any ideas or just want more of this. But that's it's for my yap session, please stay safe and drink water!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands. 

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers. 

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off. 

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb. 

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.” 

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand. 

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.” 

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts. 

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.” 

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.” 

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?” 

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?” 

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?” 

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.” 

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.” 

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter. 

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters. 

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--” 

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, father.” 

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small. 

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.” 

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg. 

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.” 

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king. 

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears. 

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere. 

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another. 

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?” 

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.” 

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head. 

“Why does no one live here?” You ask. 

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.” 

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion. 

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer. 

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine. 

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects. 

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat. 

She puffs into her palms and groan.  

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!” 

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.  

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat. 

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so. 

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you. 

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent. 

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you. 

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup. 

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise. 

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?” 

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.  

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.” 

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.” 

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage. 

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur. 

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.” 

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine. 

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”  

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat. 

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips. 

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.” 

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.  

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?” 

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.” 

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.” 

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.” 

[chiibi-chaan]

Fushiguro Toji//misbehaving.

Content warnings// modern AU, headcanon ➭ smut without plot (+18, mdni), Sugar Daddy!Fushiguro Toji, fem!reader, age gap (Y/n is in her early twenties and Toji in his late thirties), CEO!Toji, brat!reader, bimboish!reader, spanking (ass + pussy slap), Toji calls Y/n a spoiled brat, a whore, etc…, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, aftercare. NOT PROOFREAD.

A/n// it’s finally here :’) but not as good as I thought it would be.

Word count//1.1K.

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST. MASTERLIST.

"y/n, didn’t I told you to behave?"

Toji was clearly annoyed, worse than that, he was infuriated. He was a busy man, and as such, he couldn’t give you a lot of time and attention during his work time. And even though he did made time for you in his busy schedule, you couldn’t stop whining about him not giving you enough attention, about him neglecting you. He was the CEO of a international company, he wasn’t a nobody, and he certainly wasn’t someone to mess with, he had power, wealth, and a really, really bad temper. He could be really patient with you, trying to control his anger around you because you were his cute and dumb pet. But sometimes, he couldn’t just ignore your misbehaving, he had to show you that he could make you regret your actions if he wanted to.

And here you were, laying on your stomach across his lap, with your skirt pulled up around your waist and your cute panties tore apart and discarded on the floor. You kept whining and squirming, complaining about how you didn’t deserve it because you didn’t do anything wrong. Toji squeezed your ass cheek with his hand, before smacking his palm against it hard enough to make you cry out.

"You didn’t do anything wrong, huh? Are you saying that I’m wrong, Y/n? Because I saw you flirting with that bastard today, batting your lashes at him and looking at him with doey eyes, like a fucking whore trying to seduce some damn idiot."

He smacked your ass again, making you gasp and whimper, your cheeks stinging after being spanked. Tears formed in your eyes and you whined again, squirming a little as he gave you another rough slap. "I-I’m sorry, T-Toji…!" You said with a shaky voice, pouting and looking at him over your shoulder. "It’s not how you’re supposed to call me." His voice sent shivers down your spine, your back arching a little as he slapped your butt again, the pain sending shocks of pleasure directly to your cunt, which leaked already with arousal. "D-Daddy, I’m s-sorry, I won’t d-do that again…!" You sobbed and whimpered as he squeezed your painful ass in his big hand, his nails digging slightly into the sore flesh. "It seems like I spoiled you too much, Y/n. You’re starting to act like a fucking brat." His fingers slipped between your thighs, cupping your cunt and feeling your arousal dribbling on his fingers, making him chuckle deeply.

"It seems like you love to be punished, slut."

Your eyes widened before rolling back as he slapped your cunt, your toes curling in a mix of pleasure and pain as his fingers slapped right on your engorged clit. "D-Daddy, I’m s-sorry, I’m s-sorry, I was w-wrong…" He clenched his teeth, manhandling your body with ease, pushing you on the bed with your face buried in a pillow and your ass up in the air. You let out a small gasp and arched your back, pretty and puffy cunt glistening under his gaze, his hands already working on undoing his belt buckle. He pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to spring free, his shaft slapping against his muscular lower stomach, his reddish tip leaking with droplets of precum down his curved shaft, the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing slightly as he pressed himself against your ass. With a deep groan, he buried his cock into your drooling cunt, making you cry out loudly into the pillow, his thick cock stretching your insides to their limits, pain and pleasure coursing in your veins as you pushed yourself back against his hips, grinding your greedy pussy against him. "F-Fuck me, please…!" You begged, looking at him with glossy doey eyes, your lips parted and swollen from biting on them. Toji chuckled, snapping his hips against your ass roughly, your body jolting forward with each hard thrusts, his heavy balls smacking against your pulsing clit as he rammed his cock into your gummy walls, his mushroom-like tip rubbing along your g-spot and kissing your cervix. Your eyes rolled back, moans erupting from your mouth uncontrollably and saliva dribbling down you chin as he fucked you into the mattress, one of his hand gripping your hair and pushing your face into a pillow.

"That’s what you wanted, pet? You wanted daddy’s big cock inside your pussy? Is that why you were so noisy? You just had to ask and I would have made you sit on my cock all day until you whined for a good reason."

You whimpered, your moans muffled by the pillow while his hips slapped against your sore ass, his cock bullying your gummy walls until you were squirming and gushing all over it, your juices dribbling on his balls while he thrusted into you, his heavy dick filling up your fluttering cunt. He grunted deeply, his deep voice rumbling in his chest as he pulled you up by your hair, your back pressed flush against his chest as he rutted against your ass, his tip pushing against your cervix and another deep grunt escaping from his mouth as he spilled his cum into your greedy cunt, which milked him hard until each rope of his sticky semen were fucked into your womb.

"Do you understand now, Y/n? Or do I have to fuck you again to make sure every inch of you knows that you belong to me?"

"I-I understand…!"

He kissed your temple, brushing away your sweaty hair sticking to your face before pulling out his softening cock from your warm cunt, his thumb pushing back his cum into your hole as it started to leak out. Then, he cupped your ass, rubbing your sore cheeks gently.

"Does it hurt a lot, love? Let’s take a shower, and I’ll put some ointment on your butt when we’re done. We’ll watch one of your stupid shows on the couch and cuddle after than, yeah?"

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling as he carried you to the bathroom. And as promised, after washing up you both spent the rest of the evening cuddling on the couch of the living room while watching a movie you chose on the TV.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

So after Team Jnpr found out what happened with Playtime Co how many toys would they kill because some of them are beyond saving. Actually this could be it's own story. But anyway Yarnby, Catnap, and Miss Delight I think are to far gone. The Doctor would probably be no moral issue with killing. Mommy Long Legs, Dogday, and Doey would probably be willing to help them.

So not gonna lie didn't think too deeply on said concept, I was just commissioned to make the model and send it to them. I literally thought of it as I posted it...

But that is a interesting point, after all a good amount of the toys tragically aren't rehabilitate anymore... Just about any small one for sure as they all are basically feral.

I actually wonder if the smaller bodies can think beyond animalistic thoughts. It was mentioned several times that bigger bodies were failures that resulted in animal like natures like with Yarnby and Pianosarus.

So I imagine most the smaller toys are the same though Mommy does seem to be able to control the Mini-Huggies so some are... Trainable. Which is just another level of fucked up.

Ultimately I'd have to say JNPR would kill a good amount, their first kill would be Huggy, and they would be shocked when they do so cuz they don't understand what it is at first thinking it's a Grimm... Until it doesn't disappear and then a monster and once they learn they range in reaction.

Ironically I see Ren reacting the worst as this would break his semblance from emotional overload and since he rarely deals with emotions it would utterly devastate him... Nora wouldn't be much better realizing it's a child who was probably a lot like her.

Pyrrha would be inconsolable and like she was with Penny, Jaune would also be in a horrible state. But as we've seen in the series he is the best at pulling himself together.

And ultimately for his team he would shove his mental issues down to deal with later knowing something just died in him... They'd talk to Poppy and all four would be disgusted, horrified and angry...

As for which toys, yeah... Yarnby, Catnap, and Miss Delight would all be killed. I do kinda also see this situation where they hesitate to kill them, but Jaune would force himself forward to do it, so his teammates wouldn't.

They Would HATE Sawyer, things would not play out like in the game, they'd tear his robotic army apart shatter his container and drag him out piece by piece already being far past their initial innocence at that point.

Jaune would unlock his semblance from the sheer tragedy of seeing all this horror. Probably when he see's Dogday, desperate to heal him, to heal someone who suffered so much, he's had to kill so many victim already. They didn't deserve this! they weren't monsters, they were people, children who'd been twisted, used, turned into playthings for Playtime.

He'd activate his semblance as he rushed forward, grabbing the little critters rushing into Dogday, pulling them out of his flesh, ignoring them biting, scratching, trying to eat him as he did. He couldn't let him die, not another kid, not one who could still think, who still had a soul, and even now was tortured. Jaune would pass out waking up to see Dogday alive... The mini critters dead, torn apart, his team looking more spiritually worn out then ever.

Jaune would apologize, regretting that he passed out, that he didn't kill the small toys... The Feral children... that his team had to, that he couldn't protect them.

Yeah... this would be a emotionally fucked AU... Bright side I can see them saving Mommy Long Legs and by extension, Bunzo Bunny, PJ Pug-a-Pillar and the Mini-Huggies that she controls.

With Catnap I think Jaune more then anyone would understand... Loyalty is one of the core tennent of the Arcs after all... he would try but when his teams in danger he decides.

Doey, and all the toys in the sanctuary would be saved, because to put it simply the Prototype would die before Sawyer (The Doctor does) when he attacks the sanctuary Jaune and Pyrrha would go with Doey to fight him while Ren and Nora would follow Poppy's plan.

[st4rry4543]

More human ppt doodle crap

Warning/heads up, my next couple of posts will most likely be about my human ppt au.

Might make alt designs of these for an au called "poppy's neighborhood"

I'm trying to figure out this whole thing for doey in this au yk w/ him being made out of three children and all. Okay, so here's what I have so far(lots of yapping ahead)

So he's still Kevin, Mathew, and Jack, but a couple of things are different. Semi-canon to the game, I think toys do age (like their souls), but due to the lack of real-life experiences, they behave in a very childish manner. This is the case for doey in this au.

Might have all three of the kids be a little older during experimenting.

Yeah, I think I will bc doey is around like 35 in this au or smth idk.

Okay, now for poppy:

•Like in game poppy is mischievous or complex

She's very good at getting out of/escaping small places

13-19 year old stuck in a kid's body

Doesn't really want to do anything anybody else's way

No one really understands her. She never really opened up to people ( except "ollie")

[ilikepptandotherstuffs]

More refs lol

Alright so I have decided doey will be an adult in my au's anyway here's more save au refs I forgot to write the description on these so I'll just type it also doey will be shipped with angel and mommy long legs also pianosaurus because pianosaurus in my au is an adult along with the other two and is able to communicate he isn't the one doey ate doey is an adult in my au and most toys are capable of ageing in my au's

He loves the small tiny critters he calls his family (I call them plush cause why not) he also loves his 3 parteners (dam this poly is big but oh well who's going to stop me) he although is playfull and usually calm can become quick to anger when it comes to his family or partners as he is extremely protective when it comes to them he try's his best to make everyone happy (his parteners are just happy to spend time with him) he doesn't have to worry about his family getting hurt anymore because they aren't in the horrible factory anymore and doesn't have to worry about the prototype because he is dead and is very grateful about it he likes to find fun in things and is often seen wondering out outside not to far from the others as he does enjoy company

Plush catnap small and cute and is always looking for something to munch on as he and plush dogday do love to eat he is often seen etheir eating or chatting to his family he doesn't really stray far from them as he still kinda doesn't trust the bigger toys except doey,angel and mommy long legs other than that he can be seen socialising as he does like to chat

Small and feisty he has tried to bite everyone at least 50900009 times he may be friendly but watch out when you aren't paying close enough attention he will bite your ankles he looks very innocent and he knows it in which it is used for his benefit he when not biting poeple he is actually sweet he has Been nicknamed ankle biter

This one often helps plush dogday in his plans to bite everyone on the ankle often distracting poeple so plush dogday can swoop in and bite when not doing that however she is seen taking a nap she when not planning with plush dogday she is actually quite chill

Actually very well behaved and despite having lot's of energy literally causes no trouble in which is a relief to many he pendent snapped of when they were attacked by the prototype

The line between smart and dumb is constantly used as a jump rope by this guy he solves a hard math question then try's to eat poison then try's to annoy yarnaby in which is a horrible idea then proceeds to solve another university question

Likes to farm plants generally learns a lot about plants and grows them

He likes to find and tell poeple tik tok trends that Don't make sense to anyone often makes references that no one understands

This one has a habit on painting on the walls in which is actually appreciated because they look very pretty her pendant broke off during the attack of the prototype she usually does not make a sound

Anyway Mini kissy is kissy missy but smol also forget to add the tails on them lol

[neonacity]

Paubaya Chapter 3: Johnny x Reader

Paubaya (v) - a Filipino word which means to entrust something or someone to another; to give something away.

Pairing: Johnny x Reader

Themes: angst, single parent au

TW: cheating

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

-----

"Jiwoo! Don't run too far, okay?"

I laughed as my son launched himself towards the wide expanse of the park without even looking back at us, his little feet padding excitedly on the grass as he tugged on his kite. Beside me, Doyoung gave a breathy chuckle as he took a break from finishing his slushie just to capture the moment with this phone. One of the perks of going into "family dates" like this with him is that I get a ton of aesthetic photos—something I admit, I'm not particularly good at taking--at the end of the day. The man is just so naturally good at it.

"I'm going to post this in my account, okay?" He asked, though we both know it is a rhetoric question. We both took a seat on the nearest bench, my eyes following my son who was trying his best to launch his kite to the sky.

"You'll have people asking if he's yours again, but go ahead. It's not like I can stop you."

"They can think whatever they want. I don't really care," he answered off-handedly as he worked on editing his latest shot of Jiwoo before uploading it. I sighed and leaned back, stretching my legs in front of me.

"Doei, at this rate you wouldn't be getting a girlfriend. You're basically cock-blocking yourself."

He looked up at me with his signature sassy slash ‘I don’t care because I am dead inside’ look.  

"Who says I am looking for one?"

I rolled my eyes and jokingly pushed him and he answered by making a face before turning his attention back to what he was doing. As much as I love the fact that I can always count on him, I'm also getting quite worried about his dating life. It has come to the point that I actually tried setting him up with others, only for the blind dates to fall apart.

I settled on watching Jiwoo now, my mind blanking as the peacefulness of the day settled around me. A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched my son plop back on the grass to fix the tail of his kite. That's when I heard it, my name being called out by a soft feminine voice.

I turned to look at its owner and froze. Standing a little ways from us were the last people I was wishing I would run into again, and I have quite the feeling one of them feels the same. Johnny looked just as surprised and frozen on his spot as I was before his girlfriend gently tugged his hand to approach me and Doyoung.

"Hi. It's so nice to see you here," she greeted, a friendly smile curling the corners of her lips. Doyoung, who looked as shocked as I was at the visitors, glimpsed at me, then back at the pair. I couldn't really find my voice, my gaze simply moving to her, then at Johnny whose eyes were also watching me and Doyoung silently.

Unbelievable. This is so utterly unbelievable.

"H-hey... It's—It's nice to bump into you guys again. Hi," I finally managed to answer as I pushed myself to give the most normal smile I could manage. I stood up from my seat and felt Doyoung do the same beside me. Johnny's girlfriend turned her attention to him and smiled.

"Oh… Is he your boyfriend?"  

My eyes instantly snapped at Doyoung at the question, but my best friend wasn't looking at me, his steely gaze set instead on the man in front of him. Doyoung can be such a hard person to read sometimes, but as his closest friend, I do have the talent to sense whatever it is that he's hiding behind his silence. Today though, he was barely trying to conceal the hostility in his stare.

"Doyoung," Johnny greeted him with a curt voice which the other answered with a slight nod.

My gaze moved from one man to another before I snapped back to my senses. The tension was so thick you could almost choke on it. I need to say something, anything. Thankfully, Johnny's girlfriend decided to break the silence first.

"Do you all know each other?"

"Ah, yes. We all… we all went to college together. This is Doyoung. Doyoung, this is Johnny's girlfriend," I said, mentioning her name. Doyoung's brows rose ever so slightly after hearing it. He probably remembers it from when I told him everything many years back.

"It's nice to meet you," he said civilly, giving the pair a slight bow.  

"Same here. What a nice coincidence to meet Johnny's friends. Are you two on a date, too?"

"Oh no, we—"

"Mama!"

All of us seemed to be on autopilot as we all turned towards the voice. Jiwoo was running towards our little group excitedly, his kite bouncing behind him. He took one quick look at the newcomers before his face brightened like a little sun as he recognized one of them.

"Mister!"

My first instinct was to scoop him up and try to keep him at a distance but he was too fast to toddle right towards the middle of our group, his eyes expectant. In front of him, Johnny bent down on his knees and reached out to ruffle his hair, the same smile reflected on his face.

I felt like my throat was slowly closing in on me.

"Hey buddy, how have you been?"

"Your son?"

I quickly turned to the woman still standing in front of me, thankful for having a reason to tear my eyes away from the two. I barely managed to keep my voice stable when I answered.

"Y-yes…"

"He's adorable," she turned towards the boy and sat back on her heels to be on his eye level. Jiwoo smiled back at her as she offered him her name before giving her a polite bow.

"Hello, ma'm. My name is Jiwoo. Are you mister's wife?"

She replied with a soft laugh but shook her head.

"No. But I'll be that soon."

That made me stop a bit. Before I could even realize what I was doing, my gaze lifted towards Johnny who had straightened himself up again, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. What a wrong move...because the moment our eyes met, I felt my heart drop when I saw  him already staring at me.

I quickly looked away.

I turned to finally scoop Jiwoo in my arms and pressed the warmth of his small body against mine. It's as if I was using him as a shield, a balm… a reminder.

"Your boy is very charming. You three make such a cute family."

I know I should have corrected that, but I couldn't find my voice to do it. Beside me, Doyoung was silent too.

"Well, it's nice to see you here again. I would have wanted to know more about you, but I don't want to be too much trouble. It's just that… I barely know any of Johnny's friends," the girl shot me a shy smile that stirred something foreign in me.  

If the two of us met in different circumstances, maybe we would have been friends…

"Yes… Things are a little bit busy on our end. Maybe...maybe next time," I offered hesitantly which made her face light up. Beside me, I could feel Doyoung give me a glance. He knows exactly where this is going and I could almost hear his voice berating me inside my head. 

"Oh! is there something you guys are doing next weekend then?"

Well, fuck me.

"I… Uh…"

"My father is throwing a charity ball and I'd love to have the three of you there. I don't really have any friends here that I can invite so…" her eyes dropped to the ground, then back at us almost guiltily. "Of course, only if you are free," she shot me a hopeful look before smiling at Doyoung. I could feel Johnny's gaze burning on me but I kept my stare ahead.

I didn't really know what got to me. Maybe it's because I genuinely feel towards her willingness to know more about Johnny's life here or I simply want to escape the current situation… whatever it is, I found myself giving the least rational answer from my set of choices.

"...sure. I can come, but maybe not Jiwoo. He gets tired easily. And I can't really speak for Doyoung—"

"I'll be there."

I turned to him so quickly that I almost startled Jiwoo who had started playing with my hair. I was about to say something but stopped when I saw the set of his jaw.

"That's great! I'm so excited to see you guys there. I'll have Johnny tell you more about the details and send you the invitation. He has your contacts, right?"

I numbly nodded.

The girl reached out for my free hand and gave it a squeeze before linking it back with Johnny's.

"Thank you so much."

"No...no problem."

"Mama?" Jiwoo tugged gently at my shirt and my eyes immediately landed on him as he showed me the tangled up strings of his kite. "Can we fix it? It won't fly anymore."

Doyoung was quick to the rescue before I could even answer. I felt him gently tug Jiwoo from my arms, his genuine attention now fixed on my son.

"I'll take care of it. Come, Jiwoo. Let's fix it there at the bench," he offered, as he settled the toddler in his arms. He gave me a look before bowing slightly at the pair to excuse himself.

I didn't have any other choice but to say my goodbyes alone.

"Well, it's nice to see you here again. We'll be seeing you at the party… I guess."

"Yes! We can talk more there. We'll go ahead too. I hope you three enjoy your family date."

My eyes moved to Johnny to bid him goodbye as well, only to regret it the moment our gazes met.

For a brief slip of a second, I thought I was seeing the same man who loved me back then. His gaze was unreadable, but at the same time told me a thousand things, none of which I was ready for.

"I'll be in touch."

------

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting this.”

I nodded at the phone only to realize that Doyoung couldn’t see my reaction. With a quick look at the mirror, I consciously put my hand down to stop myself from eating my fingers. 

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s an accident. Are you sure you’re okay though?”

“Yeah, the crash was far from where I am but it’s holding everyone up. They’re clearing it though. I think I’ll be there in...forty minutes tops?” 

“Mmh…,” I hummed distractedly as my eyes landed on my reflection again. For the first time in a long time, I felt thankful once more over the magic of makeup. Without it, I probably would look like a sleep-deprived ghost with how pale I was. I moved to tuck a stray lock of hair that has escaped from my low bun and checked the clock resting on my vanity table. 

Johnny did keep his promise and reached out to me last week about the party. Thankfully, he simply gave me a quick run through of the details of the event, nothing more, nothing less. What I didn’t expect, however, was the amount of effort that saying yes to this would entail—the moment he forwarded the official invite to me, I realized that his girlfriend wasn’t kidding when she described it as a “ball.”

I sighed at my reflection in the mirror and tried to adjust the straps of my dress for the seventh time tonight. It’s been so long since I had to put on something more formal than my usual work outfits that I feel a little uncomfortable with the fit and the whole set-up. If I’m going to be completely honest with myself now, I want nothing more than this night to be done and over with.

“Why don’t we just meet there? I’ll just go ahead so we can save time? Then we can leave early, too,” I asked Doyoung on the phone using the most casual tone I could manage. He fell so silent at my suggestion that I almost thought he didn’t hear me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can just take a cab there.” 

Silence again. I sighed and turned to finally grab my purse from my bed. 

“Doyoung, talk to me. I can feel you fuming from over here.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It was my turn to stop now, my eyes landing on the framed photo of me and Jiwoo resting on top of my night desk. It hasn’t even been three hours since I dropped him off to his grandma’s place but I already miss him to bits. 

“I also don’t know why, to be honest…” I murmured against the phone so softly that I was surprised Doyoung heard me. When he spoke again, I could feel the concerned edge on his voice. 

“Look, you know I will support you in everything you do, but don’t get yourself into anything that will hurt you in the end. I… don’t want to see you crying again.” 

His words made me smile. It honestly gave me the push I need to finally slip on my heels and grab my house keys. 

“What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?” I asked as I made my way towards the door. I couldn’t see him, but I know he was smiling just like me on the other end of the line. 

“I wonder that too, sometimes.” 

“I’ll see you at the party?”

“See you.”

---

I peered at the address from the e-copy of the invitation on my phone then glanced back up at the house in front of me. I was expecting the venue to be pretty grand from the name of the area alone but I wasn’t expecting it to be this… marvelous. Describing the structure in front of me as a ‘home’ would be an understatement, really—calling it a mansion would be a better fit at how expansive it is. Soft notes of orchestra music floating towards where I stood brought me back to reality. With a soft clearing of my throat, I walked towards the building and showed my invitation to the smartly dressed guards stationed there. 

The first thing that I noticed when I finally stepped foot inside was the incredible set-up. I don’t know anything about Johnny’s girlfriend other than her name—I never did try to dig any information about her even back then—and that they used to be neighbors in Chicago, so I am quite surprised of her home in Korea. One look at the property and the guests milling on the open garden is enough to tell me how well-connected and well-off her family is. Everyone just looks so… important. 

My eyes roamed the area as I stood a little undecided at the threshold of the garden set-up. Almost all the guests were divided into small groups among the small cocktail tables dotting the expansive garden, laughing while casually taking sips from their flutes of champagne. 

Damn it. I should have waited for Doyoung after all…

I was busy being in the middle of regretting my decision when my eyes met familiar ones from across the garden. My breath caught on my throat as I gazed at Johnny who glanced up just in time from his own little crowd to stare back at me. He was wearing a crisp dark suit with a matching tie and his hair was neatly slicked back with a few wisps kissing his forehead. 

He looks good. 

And I am damned. 

I was woken up from my stupor when I saw him briefly turn towards the guests he was entertaining before starting to make his way towards me. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights as I watched him weave through the crowd to where I was. Before I knew it, he was standing right in front of me.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Oh. I just. I just arrived,” I said, quickly looking away to glance back at the crowd. I tried to shove back the incredible urge to slap myself for acting like a stupid teenager at the moment.

“Is Doyoung… coming?”

“Yes, he is. He just got stuck in traffic so I went ahead,” I tried to give him a smile which he answered with a slight nod. Was it just me or was that disappointment that quickly flashed in his eyes? 

The silence that followed between us was brief but awkward. Johnny kept his gaze on me while I suddenly found the patchwork of grass between us interesting.

“The party’s going to start in a bit. Why don’t I show you around first?”

“Huh? Oh, there’s no need. You seem a little bit busy with the guests you’re entertaining. I can just go find a table, I’m sure Doyoung will come soon.” 

“Actually, I insist. You’ll be saving me from the small talk.” 

I looked up at him and felt my heart jump a little at the small smile on his lips. I was unprepared for it, but in that slip of a moment, he didn’t look like the boy who broke my heart many years ago. He was just the Johnny I fell in love with when we were younger. 

I felt something inside me give away. It was a very minute change, but I let it run its course even for just this brief moment. 

I smiled back. 

“Okay.”

His smile widened and he moved to offer his arm to me. I hesitantly hooked my hand around it and let him steer me towards the other side of the center of the party. 

-----

“So you’re telling me that her family grew this garden because she loved roses when she was young?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Wow… and this is just one part of the garden?”

“There is another annex at the back of the house but it’s only allowed for family members.”

I stooped a little bit to look at the small bud of a red rose that’s just blooming from the wall of climbing vines. When Johnny said he’s going to show me around, I wasn’t expecting that he would be giving a full tour of some of the mansion’s open areas. The garden where the party was set up was breathtaking on its own but the rose garden where we are now is an entirely different level of beauty. I can see why he decided to show me the way here—it’s probably one of the most beautiful parts of the estate. 

“They’re so beautiful…”

I was so lost in appreciating the beauty of the blooms in front of me that it took me a while to feel the heavy gaze on my back. When it finally settled on me, I immediately straightened myself and turned to look at him briefly. I didn’t stop to try and read his eyes, opting instead to look for a different topic of conversation to diffuse the air. 

“You hit the jackpot, I see,” I internally winced at my choice of topic. Of all the things I could bring up, I decided to settle on that? 

Johnny, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be as bothered by the subject I opened. He kept his eyes on me and I found myself mentally cursing his habit of staring people down.

“You think so?”

“Yes. I mean, you’ll be part of the family soon, right?” 

Oh, god. It just keeps getting worse. As if it wasn’t bad enough that his ex is talking about him and his current girlfriend, here’s stupid me swerving to bring up their engagement, too. It’s like I was caught in a literal train wreck—I knew it’s a disaster, but I simply cannot look away.

“Actually, the engagement hasn’t been formalized yet.”

I slightly frowned at him. 

“Formalized?”

He shrugged and finally looked away before lifting the flute of champagne he was still holding to his lips. 

“It hasn’t been released to the papers yet.” 

I blinked. It took me a while to understand what he was saying before I realized that it is something rich families do for their daughters. It sounds out of place—maybe even a little old fashioned—for a regular civilian, but it does happen.

“Oh… I see,”  I didn’t know what else to offer as an answer to that so I let silence settle over the two of us again. It’s not like I move in the same kind of world he is living in now, nor am I in the position to comment on the intricacies of his relationship.

“How’s Jiwoo?”

The mention of my son’s name was enough to pull me back to the conversation. Just like that, I felt the wall I’ve kept at bay rising between the two of us again. 

“Johnny…” I started, a frown settling over my features. He was quick to raise his hand though before I could even continue what I was about to say. 

“Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble, believe me. I just really want to know how things have been since I—” he stopped, gauging his next words carefully. “Since I didn’t know that I have him…”

I took my time to answer, silently weighing my next move. I guess I did dig my own grave when I allowed the two of us to have this private time together. Of course, this was coming. Of course he would jump on the chance to take his shot. I sighed and turned my gaze somewhere else. 

“If you’re asking if I can support him properly, yes we have been doing more than fine. Financially, there is no problem at all.”

“That’s not what I—” Johnny stopped mid-sentence as he tried to gather himself. He must know he is treading on deep waters now and didn’t want to mess up his chance of knowing more about the boy. 

“I just—want to know…What do you tell him about his father?”

His question made my stomach drop. I knew it was coming… I just didn’t expect him to actually ask it too soon. And while I do know that I have the upper hand in the situation, I chose not to lie by offering him the truth. 

“I told him he is happy somewhere else.” 

The look that Johnny gave me was enough to make my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. I know he deserved my words because they were the truth, but I couldn’t help myself from feeling the same pain that was reflected in his eyes.

Just then, I felt my phone vibrate on my purse. I quickly tore my eyes away from him to pick it up. 

There has never been a more fitting time that I could thank Doyoung for his perfect timing. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you? I’m here.” 

I quickly glanced at Johnny. 

“I’m coming. Can you find a table for us?”

“Um, yes sure.”

I didn’t wait for him to say anything else and quickly cut the call. The sooner I can escape the situation, the better. 

“I have to go. Thank you for showing me around,” I gave him a quick bow before turning on my heels to trace back the steps from where we came from. I have barely placed any distance between us when I felt a warm hand circle my wrist and gently pull me back. I turned to look at him with wide eyes, surprised at the action. 

“I have a proposition.”

“A what?”

“Please let me spend some time with him for the next three months. You don’t need to tell him who I am. I can just be the random stranger he met at the park who wants to be his friend. Three months is all I’m asking. After that, I promise I’ll forever be out of your lives.” 

I shook my head slowly, not quite believing what I was hearing.

“You do know that you are in no place to ask this from me, right?”

“I know,” Johnny stopped and pursed his lips, his jaw ticking. “I know. That’s why I’m begging you. Just… let me have this.” 

I was at a loss for words. My eyes roamed his face, looking  for another reason, any reason, to say no to him. Every rational thought in my mind pointed to the same direction, so why couldn’t I give the same answer to him now?

“How can I be sure that you’ll never bother us again after this?” came my whispered reply.

It may have been years since the two of us have been this close, and yet even from afar I could read the expression that passed his face. 

It was resignation. 

“Because by then I’ll be married and will be back in Chicago. So I promise… After this, you can go back to hating me again.” 

I don’t know why, but I felt the same kind of loss I’ve felt many years ago when we said goodbye rising to my chest. 

The worst thing?

This time, I saw him reflecting the same pain and longing back at me. 

---

Chapter 4

Tag list: @suhpersonic, @minejungwoo, @yourchasingsunsetslove, @yuta-nakitamoto, @uranna

[bluefuckboy]

@slackslumber @king-queenie

This baby deserves its own post.

I’d like to say Incubus Kiri’s look is based heavily off his hybrid dragon form in the fantasy au

And with that I give you over 4K words of smut

Bakugo tossed another dirtied tissue into the wastebasket next to his desk. It joined the pile of similarly stained tissues and Bakugo felt a twinge of shame as he leaned back in his chair and sighed. The video on his computer was still playing and the sound of porn stars fucking now echoed a bit in his dorm room.

Bakugo hit pause and let his head fall onto the keyboard. Nineteen years and he was still in a steady relationship with his right hand. It was sad, but what was even worse was the fact that every time he tried to muster up the courage to finally go out and find someone to fuck, he would end up chickening out before the date even started.

It also didn’t help that he was into guys. It just made things harder since every guy he’d tried to hook up with thought Bakugo was ready to spread his ass for them no sweat. Like hell he was. He was the one who would be doing the fucking.

He sighed and picked up his phone to scroll through the group of apps he’d downloaded for the sole purpose of finding someone to finally lose his virginity with. All of them were a no go tonight and all the messages were just horny guys telling him how good he’d look pinned under them.

He was about to call it a night when his phone dinged with a message from an unknown sender. It dinged again, and again, and again, until Bakugo shut the sound off to silence the chorus of bells. It was the same message, sent to all the dating apps he had.

Of course his first thought was to delete it since it obviously must be some sort of spam, but he was curious too. He glanced at the message header.

Mistress Midnight’s Midnight Delights

The font was large and gothic and Bakugo’s curiosity got the better of him as he opened the message. It was a link to another app, which Bakugo downloaded for the heck of it since the description “Pleasure with the press of a button” had piqued his interest.

The app was set up like any other dating app would be, except there was no place to fill out a profile. Just categories which included Vanilla, S/M, BDSM, and one called V Card Removal. Bakugo clicked on it and was taken to a page that was exactly what he was looking for. It was a section dedicated entirely to first timers.

He was impressed with the frankness of the app as he scrolled through descriptions ranging from “soft and sweet” to “XXX.” He stopped at one that read “D/S.” He clicked on it and was greeted with several photos of gorgeous guy sprawled out in various positions.

There was a tall, lean guy leaning against a wall with a distant look on his face. His hair was two toned, half white and half red with what looked like a birthmark around one eye. He was very handsome, but Bakugo got the vibe he was probably under the Dom category and he was definitely looking for a Sub.

He scrolled through more photos. There was a guy with crazy yellow hair that looked like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt. He was even wearing what appeared to be a Pikachu costume, complete with ears and a tail that was clearly an anal plug. It made Bakguo’s cheeks hot, but it still wasn’t quite his type.

Another guy who looked the Sub part caught his eye. He was doey eyed with green hair and a spray of freckles over his nose and cheeks. He was laying on a bed, everything visible except for the goods, which were covered by his hands in Marilyn Monroe-like pose. There was even some sparkly linen covering one of this thighs.

Bakugo scrunched his nose up. Definitely not his type. That guy would probably cry during sex and then tell you he loved you as you were trying to sneak out the door the next morning. Bakugo wanted someone who would gladly suck his cock or ask him to fuck them and make him feel like this wasn’t a desperate final attempt to no longer be a virgin.

He scrolled past green haired boy and stopped as the next photo made him do a double take. It was a red haired guy, well built with a coy, toothless smile that made Bakugo’s stomach drop slightly. He was super cute and dressed in what appeared to be a doggy kink get up.

A bright red collar circled his neck and he was holding a bone in one hand while the other rested on his knees, which were pulled up to his chest, showing off just enough of his firm thighs to make Bakugo want to grip them tightly as he made the guy whimper like a naughty puppy.

Bakugo clicked on the picture. A pop up appeared.

Would you like to summon, Red?

Red must be what the guy went by, which was fitting. Bakugo found the wording a bit strange, but the slight sparkle in this guy’s eyes made Bakguo’s throat tighten up. He slammed his thumb onto the “Summon” option.

To his surprise the phone became searing hot in his palm. He cursed and dropped it onto the floor. It started vibrating violently and Bakugo was sure he must have just downloaded a virus. But then it stopped and the air seemed to thicken.

It felt like it was weighing down on Bakugo making it hard to breathe. The phone was buzzing again, but rhythmically this time. The screen was glowing red and it got brighter and brighter until Bakugo had to cover his eyes when it became almost blinding. There was a sudden rush of air from nowhere and the atmosphere changed from suffocating to calm. There was even a scent that reminded Bakguo of a high end cologne.

He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the afterimage of the bright light from the phone. The room had gone dark again as Bakugo had the lights dimmed for his me time. As his eyes adjusted his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. There was someone standing in the middle of his room.

He nearly fell over in his attempt to scramble away from the large, imposing figure. He groped for something, anything that he could possibly use to defend himself. He ended up ripping the keyboard from its spot next to the monitor, holding it in front of him like it was some sort of shield as he spoke in a shaky voice.

“Who the hell are you? How the fuck did you get in my room?”

The figure didn’t reply. There was what sounded like a snap and the room was suddenly bathed in soft lighting from sources that seemed to appear out of thin air. There were candles that had popped into existence, flickering slightly.

Now that there was adequate light, Bakugo could see that the hulking figure was none other than the guy, Red, that he had hit “summon” on. But he was far different from his photo.

For starters he was jacked as shit, way more muscular than the photo had let on. He was wearing what appeared to be tight leather pants that revealed he was packing some major heat. He had leather boots that stretched nearly up to his knees and he was completely shirtless.

Bakugo noticed there was a tattoo on the guys left shoulder that looked like the Roman Numeral for 5. In looking at the tattoo, Bakugo’s eyes couldn’t help but wander over the bulging bicep it was above, which flexed as the guy crossed his arms.

“You called?”

His voice was dangerously low and gravelly. Bakugo’s eyes darted up to his face. He was handsome for sure, but his features were sharper than Bakguo had expected and there was a scar over one his eyes, which were a deep, dark color that Bakugo couldn’t quite make out in the low lighting.

They seemed to glint a bit as the guy cocked his head and growled, “Come on kid I haven’t got all day. What’ll be?”

Bakugo’s mouth gaped open and he managed to stammer out, “You’re that guy from the app? Red, right?”

Red nodded, but his expression was bored. “Yeah that’s me. But you can call me whatever you want to tonight, sweetheart.”

Bakugo eyes widened and he was about to give an angry retort, but Red was suddenly in front of him. It was too fast for a normal human. He was simply just there, mere inches away from Bakugo, who found himself pinned against the desk. He panicked and shoved the wireless keyboard into Red’s broad chest in an attempt to push him away, but it was entirely useless.

Red’s chuckle sent a chill down Bakugo’s spine and he shimmied the keyboard out of Bakugo’s shaking hands, tossing it to the side.

“Hey!” Bakugo yelled, “That shit’s expensive you ass!”

He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins now and it gave him a momentary bout of courage to say, “I clicked on a cute submissive guy, not you, you crazy shithead.”

Red looked confused for a second, but then his face broke into a grin. His casual laugh caught Bakugo off guard and Red said, “Shit. That’s my bad. I forgot to update that photo.”

He was suddenly too close for comfort and Bakugo could feel his hot breath against his face as Red crooned, “I used to play the sweet puppy act, but now I’m more of an alpha.”

He grinned again, this time showing teeth which were unnaturally sharp. Bakugo shivered as Red whispered, “I can be the Big Bad Wolf if you want, babe.”

Bakugo felt the edge of the desk dig into the small of his back as he tried to lean back as Red came closer. He loomed over him and Bakugo felt small and almost vulnerable. This wasn’t what he wanted, and the taunting smirk on Red’s face was making him even more pissed off.

He somehow managed to wriggle his arms up and pound his fists into Red’s chest, which was sold as a rock. It was enough to provide a small sliver of space for Bakugo to shimmy out of Red’s grasp and stand in front of him.

“Go back to wherever the fuck you came from and get the fuck out of my room.”

Red cocked an eyebrow. “Aw you’re kicking me out? But I’m just getting started. We pride ourselves on service at Mistress Midnight’s. So I’m not leaving until you’re satisfied.”

Red was suddenly right next to him again. Bakugo didn’t have time to try and maneuver out of the way as the man’s wide palms were at his hips, holding him in place. That heavy, almost suffocating feeling was in the atmosphere again.

“Let me go!” Bakugo growled, struggling in vain, his fists pounding against Red’s chest.

One of Bakugo’s wrists was grabbed by Red and yanked back so that they were pressed flush against each other. Red’s other hand was now on Bakugo’s ass and Bakugo could feel the heat between their bodies.

The hand on Bakugo’s ass slipped into his boxers. Red’s palm was like fire against Bakguo’s skin and he hissed slightly as he tried to pull out of Red’s vice like grip. The air grew even thicker and Bakugo’s lungs felt like they were about to cave in, but then everything seemed to stop as Red pressed their lips together.

Bakugo wasn’t just a a virgin sexually. He had also never kissed anyone before. The sensation was strange, a tingly feeling that had him focusing on the soft give of Red’s lips instead of the hand kneading his asscheck slightly.

Bakugo inhaled sharply as something wet came to tease at the seam of his lips. Red’s tongue slipped past Bakugo’s lips, snaking it’s way past his teeth and forcing Bakugo’s mouth open. Bakugo panted into Red’s mouth as Red’s tongue caressed every inch of Bakugo’s mouth, until Bakugo’s knees began to shake.

When Red finally pulled back Bakugo was gasping for air. He knew kissing was supposed to be good, but this was on another level. His lips felt swollen and he flinched as Red dragged a thumb along his bottom lip, gathering the bit of spit that coated it. Bakugo watched with wide eyes as Red sucked the saliva off the pad of his thumb with an obscene pop before smacking his lips.

“You virgins always taste so sweet,” Red commented.

Bakugo flushed and he looked down sheepishly at his feet. In doing so he noticed the boner he must have popped at some point during their make out session. Out of habit he tried to cover himself with the hand that wasn’t being held by Red, but it was snatched away so both his wrists were in Red’s grasp.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. This the whole reason I’m here, remember?”

Red punctuated the statement by grinding his hips into Bakugo’s. Bakugo let out a very unmanly squeal as he felt Red’s own erection press against him. Red made a strange noise, but Bakugo didn’t have time to register it as he was suddenly being slammed into the wall.

His back hit with a solid thud and the air was knocked out of him. He gasped for breath, but then forgot how to breathe entirely as he saw that Red’s eyes were glowing, the pupils thin slits, almost reptilian.

But it wasn’t just Red’s eyes that had changed. His teeth were sharp like a shark’s, glistening in dim room. Black horns topped his forehead, fitting perfectly with the spikes of his red hair. The tips of his ears had elongated slightly, ending in distinct points. The hands that came to cup Bakugo’s ass again ended in sharp points that stung as Red dug his nails in. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Red had suddenly sprouted wings. Giant, leathery wings that looked bat-like. They were folded, but flared out slightly as he grinned at Bakugo wickedly. Something caught Bakugo’s attention from the corner of his eye. There was also a tail flipping back and forth behind Red, which ended in a heart shaped spike.

“Y-youre a demon?” Bakugo gasped, shaking even more now.

Red’s wings flattened agains his back. “In broad terms sure. But the correct word is Incubus.”

“Incuwhat?”

“To put it very simply, a sex demon.”

“S-sex demon?”

Bakugo’s whole body was hot. Red’s now inhuman appearance was frightening, but there was something also oddly erotic about it. His eyes seemed to draw you in and despite how dangerous they looked, Bakugo found himself wanting to delve his tongue into Red’s mouth now, tracing the points of those teeth. Said teeth were suddenly nibbling lightly at Bakugo’s neck, down his collarbone which Red laved his tongue over, dipping into the hollow and making Bakugo’s body spasm.

He’d been turned on plenty of times but this was different. It was like his body was craving more each time Red would touch him. He wanted to feel Red’s naked chest against his own, and he found himself clumsily trying to yank his shirt off.

Red chuckled and the garment was discarded along with Bakugo’s boxers, leaving Bakugo entirely exposed. Red’s eyes flicked over Bakugo’s trembling body and it felt like everywhere he looked became hot. Bakugo’s cock was already fully erect and Red’s eyes lingered on it.

He pursed his lips, as though in thought, and then he was kissing Bakugo with such force that Bakguo thought he might suffocate. Red’s mouth was wet and hot, but there was something snaking up his leg, winding round his thigh, dancing lightly over the dip in his pelvis until he felt it coil round his throbbing cock.

It was Red’s tail, wrapping Bakguo from base to tip, making him mewl into Red’s mouth. The pressure around his cock was just enough to make Bakugo want more, it was almost a tease, but then the tip of Red’s tail flicked over the head of Bakugo’s cock.

It was a completely foreign feeling, rough, but warm, and agonizingly stimulating. Red’s tail tightened around Bakugo’s cock and he began to pump him slowly while he teased Bakugo’s slit, which was dripping precum onto the leathery skin.

Red separated their mouths briefly and Bakugo gasped for air. Red’s eyes were hypnotizing and the slow fuck of his tail around Bakugo’s cock had him close to orgasm. But then the sensation was suddenly gone and Bakugo made a disappointed noise.

Red chuckled, “Don’t worry. We’re only getting started.”

Bakguo was swept up effortlessly by Red’s strong arms and deposited on his bed, still very much naked, and still very much aroused. Red stood over the bed, looking like a predator deciding how to devour its prey. His wings flexed slightly.

“You know what, I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll give you some special service. But first I wanna see you on your hands and knees.”

Bakugo’s brow furrowed. “My what?”

Red’s eyes began to glow brighter. “I said get on all fours.”

It was an order and Bakugo scrambled to position himself on the bed. He looked up at Red, who tutted at him before bending down so their faces were level. Bakugo’s eyelids were heavy and he opened his mouth eagerly for Red as they shared a languid kiss.

But then another order came. “Turn around.”

Bakugo hesitantly maneuvered so his backside was toward Red. He couldn’t help the blush that spread over his cheeks and all the way down to his chest. He could hear Red make a noise of approval and then Bakugo’s head was being shoved down into the sheets so his ass was in the air.

“Now be a good boy and stay still.”

Bakugo flinched as Red cupped his ass. The claws on his fingers dug into the skin ever so slightly and Bakugo tried to move away but was stopped with a hard slap to his left cheek followed by a growl from Red.

“I said don’t move.”

Bakugo’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. The sting from where Red had slapped him was turning him on even more. He wanted to feel more so he purposefully pushed himself up from the bed.

Red’s claws dug into his scalp almost instantly, forcing his head back down as the satisfying sound of Red’s palm hitting the creamy skin of Bakugo’s ass echoed through the room. Bakguo moaned slightly and the grip on his hair vanished.

He could feel Red’s hands cup the angry red marks he’d left on Bakugo’s ass. Near perfect handprints. But Red was far from done as he spread Bakugo open. It was what Bakugo had wanted to do to the cute boy in a collar. But instead he was being worked open by a demon whose hot breath beat against his quivering hole.

Bakugo buried his face deeper in the the sheets, balling them up with his fists as he felt something wet flick at his entrance. Red’s hands tightened on Bakugo’s cheeks and then Bakugo cried out as Red’s tongue pressed into him ever so slightly.

Bakugo had tried anal play once, just to see if it was anything he was interested in. He’d managed to get two fingers in, but could never find the sweet spot he’d heard about, which was part of the reason he wanted to top.

But now, as Red’s tongue circled rings of muscles, any remaining wishes to top were long gone. In fact he found himself trying to lean in closer to Red, who was fucking him slowly with a tongue that was far to long for any human being.

It was reaching places Bakugo didn’t even know he had. Red curled his tongue slightly and Backugo let out a muffled scream of pleasure. He had the sheets between his teeth now, biting down in an attempt to keep quiet as this was a dorm.

But Red seemed to have other ideas. His tongue was pulled out, making Bakugo’s body shake. He felt the bed dip and then Red was draped over him, his chest pressed flush against Bakugo’s sweaty back. Somehow Red’s pant’s were gone and Bakugo could feel something firm and hot slide between his cheeks for a moment.

Red yanked the sheet out of Bakugo’s mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers, hooking them into Bakugo’s bottom jaw. He couldn’t feel the points of Red’s claws, but sharp teeth came to nibble on his ear as Red whispered.

“I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you.”

Bakugo’s last bit of sanity snapped as he felt the tip of Red’s tail suddenly slip inside of his quivering hole. The fingers in his mouth were making him drool onto the sheets. The flared tip of Red’s tail had slid in surprisingly easily and Bakugo clenched around it.

He let out a noise he didn’t know he was capable of making as the tip of Red’s tail brushed against an area that had Bakugo seeing stars. He heard a growl of approval, and the fingers in his mouth were taken out.

“Tell me what you want,” Red asked, his voice a low rumble.

Bakugo’s voice shook as he found himself saying, “I want you to fuck me.”

Red smiled devilishly. “Good boy. Now scream for me.”

The tip of the tail pressed right against Bakugo’s prostate and Bakugo let out a high pitched whine. It didn’t seem to satisfy Red though and his tail was slipped out quickly, leaving Bakugo’s hole clenching at air. But then the solid head of Red’s cock was there.

Red pushed in ever so slightly and Bakugo whined.

“You want more?”

Bakugo could only nod, his head bobbing up and down erratically as he panted into the sheets. Red’s tail wrapped around Bakugo’s right leg, almost holding him there as he positioned himself at Bakugo’s entrance.

In one thrust he entered him all the way and Bakugo did indeed scream. It felt like he was being ripped apart. Red’s cock was huge, filling him up in a way he never knew he wanted. He cried out again as Red pulled out before slamming back in.

Bakugo cummed as Red’s cock hit his prostate. He could feel himself clench around Red and it was almost too much as Red pulled out again and started fucking him hard and fast. Bakugo’s muscles relaxed slightly after his orgasm and somehow Red slid even deeper into him.

A low growl rumbled from behind Bakugo’s head and he felt wet strands of saliva dripping onto his back. He somehow managed to glance up at Red and the sight pushed him forward into a second orgasm.

The incubus looked like an animal in heat. He was salivating, panting heavily as he fucked into Bakugo. His wings had spread out so they filled the cavity between the bed and the ceiling. They trembled with what Bakugo hoped was Red’s own pleasure. Red’s tail tightened around Bakgugo’s leg and then Red came.

As he did he dug his claws into Bakugo’s hips, but Bakugo didn’t register the pain. He was entirely fixated on the feel of Red’s hot cum filling him up. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before and it was amazing. Red was still thrusting and Bakugo didn’t expect to feel even more spurts of cum shoot inside him. It was like Red was trying to pump him full.

With a loud moan Red’s forehead fell to rest on Bakugo’s shoulder. Bakugo could feel breath beat against his skin, cooling the saliva sticking to it. When Red finally pulled out Bakugo felt slick sliding out of him. He shuddered and tried to look up at Red again, but he couldn’t.

He was feeling strange all of a sudden. Like his body was being dragged down into the bed, his limbs becoming heavy. It was becoming hard to focus and a soft buzzing was starting to fill his head.

He was lifted like a rag doll and plopped back onto the bed. Red’s wet tongue swept up his abdomen and Bakugo shivered. He groaned as he felt Red’s mouth at his cock for a moment, licking up the cum that had dribbled down. He felt a strange sensation at the jut of his hip. It burned slightly but then it was over and exhaustion and post coitus bliss washed over him, drowning him into a deep sleep.

He faintly heard Red say something to him, but he was out before he could understand what it was.

When he awoke the next morning he was tucked into bed. His phone was on the nightstand, sheets neat and clean as though last night had never happened. Bakugo wondered if that was the case. It could have been one hell of a dream, and probably had to be.

An incubus fucking him senseless? That was the stuff of fiction. Bakugo sighed. He didn’t deny the fact that part of him wished it had been real. He could almost feel the burn from Red’s hands on his ass. As he shifted slightly, he did feel something with his ass however. It was a numb feeling and he sprung up, regretting doing so as his back throbbed painfully.

He tore the sheets off and waddled over to the mirror hanging on the closet door. Sure enough, as he yanked his boxers down there were distinctly shaped red marks on each cheek. It made Bakguo’s heart flutter for some reason, but then he noticed something else.

There was another mark on his hip. It was writing. He craned his neck down to make it out. It looked like it had been written with a sharp object and was more of a scar than anything. Bakugo’s eyebrows raised at the words.

Property of Eijiro

Eijiro? Bakugo didn’t know an Eijiro. He was thoroughly confused but then the moment before he passed out came rushing back. Red had carved this into him. He’d also whispered to him words which made Bakugo shiver remembering them.

“Next time I want my name on your lips as you cum. You’re mine now.”

[yehet-about-it]

BEST FRIENDS AND BANANAS: A SERIES OF AWKWARD EVENTS | Semester I Part 24 - Bathroom Encounters

|| Masterlist || < Prev || Next >

~ An NCT Dream x Wayv College AU Social Media Series ~

Updates @ 7pm GMT/1pm CST Monday, Wednesday & Saturday (3AM+1 KST)

Semester I Synopsis: It’s your junior year at college and it’s been over a year since you were in a relationsip, but luckily you’re not short of men to choose from. Your best friends are 6 rowdy boys (aka the dreamies) and your favourite girl Jiwon, but what happens when a fleeting romance with a handsome senior leads to big changes in your relationships?

Pairings: Jaemin x Reader, Best Friend!Renjun x Reader, Hendery x Reader, Choi San x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Comedy, Light smut in some parts

Warnings: SMUT! This part is 18+. It's not toooo explicit but it contains sexual content so if you're uncomfortable with it don't read! It's not actually vital to the story but gives a little more context for something mentioned in the next section so it's perfectly okay to just skip this part, you won't miss out on any plot! Swearing, mentions of sex, casual + drunk sex, drinking/alcohol

~ Clara x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Psst. Renjun!”

Your voice was quiet against the noise of the party, but just about audible enough for your best friend to hear as he wove his way through the drunken people scattered about the landing. “Renjun!” you said again. Stopping to look where the voice came from, Renjun turned towards the bathroom door, from which your head was currently peaking out, a surprised look on his face as you peered out at him. Before he had chance to respond, you grabbed his hand, yanking him into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“Y/n- what are you doing?” Renjun asked, bewildered, as you hopped up to sit on the counter. “I’m hiding!” you whispered somewhat unnecessarily, now being sealed away in the bathroom. Renjun gave you a blank look. “Why?” he asked, as you looked down at him with big doey eyes, a little glassy from the 3 cups of punch you’d consumed earlier in the night. “Lucas and Hendery. They keep being really weird and flirty.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Renjun replied.

“I mean REALLY flirty, I didn’t know what to do!” Renjun chuckled at you and sighed.“Do they need a talking to?” he asked, moving from his position by the door to stand directly in front of you. You looked at him sympathetically. “No offence Renjun, but I don’t think you could take them on... They’re both older and bigger than you. But anyway, no they’re fine, just stay in here with me for a bit, maybe they’ll lose interest.” Renjun scoffed at your implication but let it slide since after all, it was true. He wasn’t exactly large, he was more the small but feisty type.

“I’m not sure they will,” he said teasingly, placing his hands gently on your knees. You deflated a little at his words pouting, and as if to respond Renjun began rubbing comforting little circles on your knees. As nice as it was to be getting attention, Lucas and Hendery’s flirtations were a little much for you, especially since you’d barely spoken to either of them before, and you didn’t really want to have to spend the entire rest of the night hiding out in the bathroom avoiding them. You let out a little groan of frustration. 

“Ughh, whyyy?” you whined. Renjun smiled, a glint in his eye. “Probably because you’re easily the prettiest girl here,” he said, making a hot pink flush creep up your cheeks. Renjun had told you you were pretty plenty of times before, as any best friend should, but in your current position his words felt a lot more intimate than they ought to. “I- I don’t think so,” you stuttered, looking down to where Renjun’s hands connected with your bare knees, your hair hanging down around your face hiding your pink cheeks. “Well I think so, and I imagine half the people at this party do too.” You looked up at Renjun’s admission, locking eyes with his as your heart hammered in your chest. Why was he making you feel like this? Surely his words were just those of a best friend psyching you up, but you couldn’t help the warmth now spreading through your body.

“Y-you do?” You murmured, as your thighs relaxed slightly, slipping open a little ushering Renjun to stand flush against the counter between them. “Mhh,” Renjun hummed in confirmation. As your thighs had parted, Renjun’s hands slipped a little higher onto your thighs gently curving across the top and sides, but applying just a bit of pressure to send a tingling up to your core. As silence took over you became all the more aware of where his hands touched you and your mind was taken back to the weekend two weeks prior and how Renjun had gripped your thighs as he roughly fucked into you. Your breathing became shaky as you felt yourself becoming more aroused, Renjun’s hands burning against your skin, his face now no more than 10 inches from your own.

For all you knew, you could’ve been the only one feeling the intense sexual tension in the room, but right now that was a risk you were willing to take. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol flowing through your system or you were just going crazy, but the next thing you knew your hands had moved from the counter, and were looping around Renjun’s neck, pulling him down into a hungry kiss. Renjun kissed back almost immediately, his hands moving from your thighs to grip your waist, pulling your body forward to meet his, your arousal only intensifying as his pelvis pressed against your sweet spot. He dominated the kiss, taking every opportunity to nip and tug at your bottom lip, eliciting what he thought were the most delightful groans from you and you whined when he finally pulled away leaving your lips red and swollen.

As you both tried to catch your breath, Renjun’s hands massaged the flesh of your butt through your skirt, your core involuntarily clenching at the sensation. You both seemed a little stunned as you looked at each other but neither of you wanted to stop. In a flash, Renjun attached his lips to your neck, sucking little red marks all over your skin as his fingers dug into your ass. You let out soft breathy moans as his lips assaulted your collar over and over again, your neck being one of your most sensitive spots. Given the amount of attention he was paying to the particular area you wondered had he remembered from last time? Or perhaps he just had a thing about necks; either way it felt incredible.

When his face emerged from the crook of your neck you looked up at him, mouth agape and were met with his dark eyes staring down at you. These were not his usual soft kind eyes. These eyes were filled with lust. They were eyes that wanted to devour you.

“Renjun...” you breathed shakily.That seemed to flip a switch in him because suddenly he was tugging your hips forward and pushing your skirt up, exposing just enough of your panties for him to see how wet you were. A knowing smirk appeared on Renjun’s face. “You’re so wet y/n,” he teased, tracing a finger up the front of your panties, grazing over your sensitive bud. “Do I turn you on?” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, as his fingers pushed the damp material aside to feel just how much of an effect he’d had on you. You whimpered as his fingers teased you. All you could manage was a nod in response, too embarrassed by your obvious arousal over your best friend to say anything. Renjun rewarded you with a trail of kisses along your jaw as his fingers worked their way to your entrance, but just as he was about to enter you he stopped still. “This is okay right?” he asked, looking at you earnestly. The two of you might’ve been charged up on lust, alcohol and adrenaline, but Renjun wasn’t stupid enough not to ask for consent before you did anything you might regret. You paused for a second, the realisation hitting you that you were about to do the unspeakable with your best friend once again, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. You wanted him.

You nodded quickly, desperate for that bit of friction where you most needed it. Renjun smiled, placing a kiss on your nose, before reaching further under your skirt to pull your panties down. You lifted your hips to assist him and as soon as they were off, his hands were on your thighs, pushing them apart to give him better access. Then he brought his hand back to your core, circling your little bud a few more times before pushing into you, your head rolling back as you gasped at the feeling.

The next few minutes were a blur of pleasure as he fucked you with his fingers, moving down as you started to get close to use his tongue on you too.“Oh my god!” you yelped several minutes later as you reached your climax, your juices running down Renjun’s fingers to his palm, your own hands clawing at the edge of the counter for purchase. “Good girl” Renjun cooed pushing you through your orgasm. You breathed heavily, leaning back on your arms as Renjun withdrew his fingers from you, holding your back with his other hand to support you. “Open,” he said, holding his fingers up to your lips. You fulfilled his wishes, parting your lips to taste yourself and clean his fingers of your arousal. He may have just fucked you but this was by far the most erotic thing he’d done yet. You moaned around his fingers, licking the last of your mess off before he removed them, placing his hands back on your hips.

“You liked that?” Renjun whispered as he leaned his forehead against yours, his hands moving up and down your waist, soothing you in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Yes,” you whimpered, feeling a little bashful after having just come for your best friend. Your intimate moment however was shattered as you heard the rattle of the door handle and someone knocking loudly.

“Jesus will you hurry up?! You’ve been in here ages. Other people need to pee too you know!” You heard an irate voice from the other side of the door. Your eyes widened. Perhaps the bathroom at a house party wasn’t the best place to have had this particular exchange. “Oops” Renjun said, smirking as he helped you down from the counter. The door banged again. “ONE SECOND!” You yelled back as you hurried to put your panties back on and Renjun set about washing his hands.

A few seconds later you emerged from the bathroom, Renjun in tow, only to see Jisung standing right out side. “Oh. Sorry Jisung.” you said, praying that he hadn’t overheard your encounter. Luckily though, the noise of the party seemed to have drowned out any of the sounds you’d made. “Jesus what were you two doing in there? I’ve been waiting for ages” Jisung grumbled, giving you a curious look. “Just hiding!” you chirped not wanting to seem suspicious. “Right well next time hide somewhere other than the bathroom. I’ll see you in a minute, I really have to pee,” he said, pushing past you and slamming the door. You looked at Renjun and immediately saw the relieved expression on his face making you burst into laughter. “Come on dork, let’s go find Jeno.”

Taglist: @patchi-chi @classic-antifood @stopitvpls @arimeetsevil @strayteezjinnie @colpen @yuuuumiiin @aka-minhyuk-kun @mxrcayong

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[wizardandpirate]

I've come across your Lil Doey au and I love it they're adorable! Don't know if it's your thing, but hear me out: the doctor Harley Sawyer lives and probably downloaded his consciousness to a fully functional android body. You can say it's his masterpiece but it was also damaged due to the explosions.

The Player finds them and of course the Doeys plus Kissy wouldn't trust him, but Player does and helps the Doctor get back to his feet. Helps him whenever and whatever, even though the Doctor doesn't like it. But slowly trust is built between them before ultimately the Doctor's fascination with the Player changes (how you interpret this change is up to you).

I headcanon the Player as male, but I just want to share it to you!

I'm sorry this took a bit to answer! I just didn't want the reason why I don't intend to do this sound rude^^ I dislike feeling like I'm discouraging ideas, which I'm not trying to do here/gen.

First off, thank you so much!!❤️❤️ it genuinely means the world that anybody likes what I create. At the end of the day I make it for me, but that doesn't mean I'm not extremely happy if I can bring joy to others while doing so! It means a lot to me to see people like something I create, because I know I'm making people happy.

Secondly, I love The Doctor as a character, he's well written, well designed, well voice acted- honestly super super cool!! And I totally get where people who enjoy AUs of him surviving with the toys and stuff are coming from.

However, this specific AU is focused on the kids and their recovery. Harley is their abuser at the end of the day. He's the one who enjoyed their torment, who did this to kids. Who did all of these horrible, painful things to children while himself being an adult. He is a child abuser. A well written one, a fantastic character with amazing writing! Buuut I don't think he belongs in an AU focused on recovery around the kids he abused and tormented.

If you wanna make a similar AU where he also survives, absolutely go for it^^ but to me, my au is about trauma and recovery. Kids who never got to be kids, who could never trust adults, finally having those chances. I wouldn't want one of their main abusers around in a positive lighting for something like that.

Absolutely no hate to anybody who enjoys an AU where he would survive and get rescued with the toys, I'm just expressing how I feel towards my personal AU^^ I hope this isn't taken the wrong way. Thank you for sharing Anon!:]

[bfwa]

Mutual Pining Fics - Round 1 Winners

Simple Pleasures by @pawprinterfanfic

Clarke is a medic from District 6. More importantly, she’s a dangerous criminal in the eyes of the Capitol. It isn’t a surprise when she is reaped for the 45th Hunger Games; it’s the only way for the Capitol to silence her.

Bellamy spent his life protecting his younger sister. When Octavia volunteers for the Games to honour their district, he knows it’s his responsibility to follow her into the arena. He would give anything for her to become the Victor, even his safety.

When they meet in the Capitol, Clarke can’t deny the connection she feels to him. He makes her feel more than a sacrifice. He makes her feel hope. She knows it’s dangerous to trust others, especially when in the arena, but why deny herself some final few simple pleasures?

Baby Mine by stumblesun

A routine doctor's appointment, a mix up and an artificial insemination...what could go wrong?

A Jane the Virgin AU.

Give Me Your Fate by @asroarke

Not a blonde hair out of place, her suit perfectly tailored, the kind of person he was used to seeing around Washington. Bellamy glanced over at Marcus, catching the smirk on his lips as he watched this girl. She must be why they were here. “Who is this girl?” Bellamy asked, leaning in toward Kane.

“Your best bet at a career in the Senate,” Kane whispered back.

Political AU where Bellamy Blake is willing to do whatever it takes to get reelected, even pursuing an arranged marriage to a complete stranger.

Waste it on me by @eyessharpweaponshot

There's no such thing as love, according to Clarke Griffin. She's sworn off dating after it leaves a bad taste in her mouth and there's nothing that can sway her from that. What she doesn't expect is that fate has a different path laid out for her - one that leads to a curly haired barman who just happens to be her soulmate.

Rock Bottom by animmortalist

When Bellamy and Echo get engaged, Clarke ends up sobbing in her room, mourning something that she never really had. The last person she expects to comfort her is Murphy, but it turns out the two have a lot more in common than she thought. While she's been pining for Bellamy, he's been realizing his feelings for Raven, who happens to be dating Shaw. In a moment of impulsivity, the two sleep together, and then say 'fuck it'. If they're going to be hurting, they might as well be getting laid at the same time. They figure it'll be easy, simple, and that no one will get hurt. Of course, they're idiots.

Two of Hearts by @asroarke

“Just let me know if he does anything suspicious,” he sighs.

Jasper’s head perks up, and he grins at Bellamy. “I saw something suspicious,” he slurs. Bellamy ignores him, and Jasper clinks his glass against Bellamy’s empty one before taking a big swig. Monty’s eyes meet Bellamy’s, and they both share the same exasperated thought. “That Collins kid was here all of five minutes before setting his sights on our pretty little nurse. That’s why Sheriff Blake wants to send his ass back to Mississippi.”

“That’s not—” Bellamy cuts himself off, refusing to engage. But why are all of them convinced there is something between him and Clarke? Some days, he doesn’t even like her.

Historical AU where Bellamy is certain Finn is responsible for the string of robberies in his town, and that suspicion has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Finn set his sights on Clarke. No one believes him, though.

darling, hold me in your arms (the way you did last night) by @probably-voldemort

Clarke doesn't make it back in time to be on the rocket. Neither does Murphy.

so i sing a song of love by @hiddenpolkadots

After, when their bellies are full and the dishes have been moved to the sides, they sit with their backs against the wall and just listen to the sound of the wind as they look up at the stars.

She’s spent hundreds of nights like these with him before. He taught her how to find almost all the constellations and the stories behind them. Now she draws her strength from them, letting her eyes slip shut as she says, voice no louder than a whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

She hears his sharp intake of breath followed by a long and sticky silence.

all this, and love too, will ruin us by @talistheintrovert

Clarke really didn't mean to fall for the stupid angel.

Bellamy knows he shouldn't be doey-eyed for a demon.

Armageddon and babysitting the antichrist really don't help things.

still yours by @arysafics

Clarke and Bellamy agreed to remain friends after they broke up. It's harder than she thought it would be.

why they lost their minds and fought the wars by safeandsound13

The problem is not having to fake date Bellamy. It’s easy enough. They’re close enough friends they can sell it, and have plenty of history to fall back on. They can read each other, even from across a room, and when they want to be extra sickenly, finish each other's sentences.

It's not even having to fake pretend to be carrying his baby. For all they know, the pregnancy is still in it's early stages so all she has to really do is lay of the booze and raw meat -- which is, surprisingly, not That Hard. Having a convenient excuse to go home at all times is just an added benefit.

The real problem here is the fact Murphy just won’t, for the life of her, fucking die.

Homesick (It’s a bitter sweet feeling) by burninghoneyatdusk

When Bellamy looks up, he sees a young blonde girl with sky blue eyes sitting in a booth two down from his own with a man he assumes to be her father. Bellamy watches her ignore the food in front of her as she concentrates so hard on the picture she’s drawing that her brow is furrowed and there’s a determined little frown on her small heart-shaped face. This isn’t the first time he meets her, but it’s the first time the Griffins enter his little town and his little life.

Bellamy and Clarke can't stand each other, which is only exasperated by the fact that as step siblings, they're stuck in the same house.

But when they're paired up as lab partners, they grow closer and realize they may have more in common than they thought. Which really only complicates things further...

[ablobwhowrites]

PLEASE-... please just a bit more on the 'A new home sweet home' AU. I'm emotionally attached I'm attached to

Please I need more-... I love them🥲

-the weird one

Don’t worry. There’s a lot more of new home sweet home au cause I like writing for this au.

There was a time when y/n and their best friend went to hang out for a little bit. (Don't worry, y/n's grandma was watching the toys and yeah they where introduced to their grandma and she acts like all the toys are her grandkids and she brought cookies for them everytime she gets to watch them for a bit) y/n's friend kinda snuck into playtime co but only the surface and found a document with y/n's name on it and it read how y/n was perfect for a experiment for a new toy. And their surgery date was the same time as the hour of joy and this makes y/n wonder if had they stayed and not went to work that week then what would happen to the toys? What would have happened to them? After everything and how they didn't know what was happening to the kids in that factory, they trusted that playtime co was a alright company but now they don't know what to think but y/n just decide to burn it. Just felt right that playtime co can't hurt the toys anymore, they can't hurt them anymore.

Also the first week when y/n brought all the toys back to their house. Y/n got some food and when I tell you, the toys sobbed because like food never tasted so good because being starved and forced be eating corpses and rotten food or even other toys. Like y/n made some food for them and when doey ate his food. Jack (sorry if I got the kids names wrong or mixed up) Immediately took over and he started to cry and eat cause like who wouldn't after finally getting to eat a good meal and being able to be in a safe house after being hurt, starved and abandoned and scared for years. And the fridge and any small snacks are all eaten and y/n isn't mad and will just worry about later.

Y/n also may have asked for their friends mini van and to be picked up and y/n's best friend was the first to kinda meet the toys and saw y/n basically bloody and beaten because no way they come out unscathed. It was a very awkward drive back to y/n's house. Also totally imagine just y/n taking a good shower but then shower though hits them and they realize they have bascially traumatized toys who where once kids but horrifically made into these things and now y/n has to take care of them but it's better than the factory. Far better than the factory.

(that's it for this yap session. Promise more stuff for this au is coming out but if you like it please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or just your thoughts on this au. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 17

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2300+

Date posted: 21 Oct 2018

You thrust a hand out from the blankets, smashing every inch of your side table until the noise stops. The crunch of buttons is harsh beneath your palm, but at least the blaring of the alarm stops. But It’s too late. The cold has already set in now that you’ve tried to return to the warm blankets. A monumental groan sounds into the pillow, a slight headache throbbing across your temple.

“What’s that ungodly noise?” complains Ryan, husky in your ear and he curls into a tight ball. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, urging sleep to take him before waking does. You start to move, gentle when easing yourself away, but he grips you tighter. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

“To pick up some assholes from the airport,” you murmur in response, hand coming to rest on his cheek. “Unless you want to go and get them instead?”

He pushes you away instantly, flopping onto his back and starfishing. “Hell no, have fun though. Take your time. I’ll be right here.”

“Really?”

He opens his eyes to the sound of something you hadn’t intended to come across as hope, watching you slip from the bed and perch on the mattress. Catching your hand, he gives it a squeeze, forcing you to look at him. “Really.”

“You’re not gonna vanish?”

He chuckles, gentle and reassuring in the dark. “Not unless you want me too.”

“Depends on whether or not you wanna meet my friends in yesterday’s clothes.”

“Ah.” He exhales, pulling you down for a lingering, sweet kiss, “maybe I’ll go home and change before coming back? I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

“Just don’t get taken by the Widow of the Woods, okay? I’m not done with you yet.”

“I don’t know if that’s a threat or a promise, but I’m completely okay with either.”

 -

 Another bubble escapes from the back seat, the two men grinning at each other through roaring laughter. Lauren scowls, fingers tightening on the phone she passes over in her hands. Your grip on the wheel doesn’t waver, and neither does the silly smile on your face, holding on for dear life as Trevor - all long strong limbs and big grins, hair just as perfect as always and dark eyes shining - holds up a cautionary hand.

“I give that a 7.5, Mr. Sauce.”

Alfredo’s eyebrows meet, appalled at the low score and offended that his friend would be so unimpressed by his drunken belch. But the expression makes you smile, the soft face looking wrong with such a feeling of offence. Full lips purse with the narrowing of wide eyes, dark toffee depths critical while he points and accusatory finger. “Only 7.5? That was at least a 9!”

Trevor shakes his head as Lauren hunches further in her seat, exhausted from spending hours on a plane trying to wrangle 2 drunks. Bags lining her face but lips still curving into a plump smile behind her scarf.

But the bickering doesn’t bother you, the company making you feel so light you’re surprised you aren’t floating. The sound of Lauren screaming ‘surprise bitch!’ across the airport still ringing in your ears. Tears brimming as she’d tossed her bags at Trevor and bolted to you. Beautifully blonde with waves of hair that cuts off as blunt as her bangs, blue eyes that pierce your soul and hands scarred with subtle golds snatching your elbows. Bundles of jumpers enough to cacoon her in the sunshine she’s left behind for you, arms bringing with the embrace the warm weather of a choking beachside town. And as you’d held her out at arms length the small woman practically shone. A friend it had taken you too long to find, and a sister you can’t even fathom living without.

Scanning the gentle rolls the fog has started to form beneath the steady and thick snow fall, the early morning light swallows the car in the same nothingness scattered across the dead streets. You shuffle in your seat, trying to concentrate as you maneuver across the ice. “Trevor’s right, Fredo, it wasn’t that good.”

You regrets speaking almost immediately, met with Alfredo’s vehement protests as they hit the back of you seat and curl around your shoulders. “You’re just grumpy cus you’re not drunk.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” groans Lauren, hurling a glare back at her friends.

“I was drunk last night,” you interject conversationally, peering through the thick blanket smothering the car and searching for something that resembles the road. “Well, buzzed at least.”

“You were drunk?” slurs Trevor over Alfredo’s theatrical gasp, “Do you hear that, Fredo? The lady was drunk!”

“I heard it, Trey,” laments Alfredo, shaking his head in shame, “with my own two ears.”

“As opposed to someone else’s?” asks Lauren, defrosting in the warmth, letting go of her lack of sleep. Her beam brightens the space, Trevor practically melting into it.

“Maybe you’re the one that’s grumpy,” he accuses playfully, eyes narrowing at Lauren and the sunshine radiating from her smile.

“Maybe that’s your fault.”

“C’mon baby,” pleads Trevor, managing to sit on his knees around his seatbelt and grip her headrest, chin on Lauren’s shoulder. “Everything was free, you can’t expect me to avoid such a financially beneficial deal.”

“I didn’t expect anything,” she laughs, fingers tracing his rosy cheek and eyes drifting to you with mischief. “But I was hopeful.”

“Ooo, you hear that, man?” Whistles Alfredo, joining Trevor in his knees, head peering between the seats and brushing your arm. “She was hopin’ you wouldn’t be you.”

“I did hear that!”

“That’s not what I said-”

Trevors hand clumsily stops her words, his eyes closing and eyebrows knitting together, as though he can’t quite remember how to open them.  “I’m sorry, Lauren. Laurie. Lol. Ren. Ren Ren… Where was I going with this?”

He blinks when her gentle slap shakes him out of his daze. She laughs again and you join in. “You were saying how much you love me.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Okay, this is getting weirdly intimate,” complains Alfredo, scurrying away from the doey gazes the pair share, shielding behind your chair. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“At least you’ll sleep well,” you offer, smiling into the mirror in the hopes that he’ll catch the expression. He does, returning his own.  “Besides,” you insist, “I’ve missed you guys too much to care. But if you throw up in my car you’re walking. Now, everyone shut the fuck up. I can’t see dick.”

You try to ignore the subsequent jokes that pelt against your back, focusing on the world in front of you that holds little to be distinguished. Squinting, you can no longer see the usual houses crammed together in clumsy lines down the streets as you venture towards the center of Motbury. Nor the trees with their dark green leaves that shift in the dark like monstrous creatures.

“Where are we?”

You don’t have an answer for Alfredo, sharing his concern as still no signs illuminate in your car lights. Through the cracked open window whispers the unusual smell of rot - out of place in the snowy district you swear you should be close too. With it wafts something more, a tangy smell of something that festers and stings, leaving a bitter film that coats your airways and settles at the back of the groups throats. The snow picks up. Swirling with the aggressive wind that engulfs the car. White masking your vision and blinding in the headlights. No amount effort helps you break through the sudden storm that’s raging far earlier than it’s supposed to, car pulling to a reluctant stop.

Lauren shudders at your side, abandoning her phone in favour of clinging to the dashboard. “Is that you?”

“Me?” you ask, astonished and wide eyed. “It what me?”

“The storm.” She waves a hand to the turmoil outside. “All this shit.”

“Why the fuck would this be me?”

“I don’t know, you’re all about snow!”

“What,” you snap nervously, “you think I can just make it snow on command?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” she half warns, clearly uneasy in the enclosed space. “You used to make it snow on our desks in class, Y/N.”

“A desk is much smaller than a whole town-”

“I don’t care, but if this is you please stop-”

Her scream cuts her off, the car shuddering violently beneath a high pitched tearing suddenly taking over the space. Like nails across a chalkboard. Something sharp caught against glass. The sound traces the left side doors, lingering beside the boot. Alfredo sobers up quickly, pressing into the middle of the back seat with Trevor at his side. Both stare out opposite windows, squinting through the flurry of snow that’s quickly taking over the road. The outside world is swallowed whole, nothing but the static of a VHS tape glaring back.

Alfredo gulps, working around the fear clogging his throat. “What the fuck was that?”

Only breathing fills the void, ragged and forced into silence. Before you can respond another bang claps through the storm - but this time it’s different. This time the shriek that follows is so familiar that it makes the hair on your neck rise, base of your skull itching with the burn. It echoes through the nothingness, shrill and layered and agonising just as it had the night you’d experienced your first snowstorm.

A pressure so tight that you can’t draw a big enough inhale to stop feeling dizzy takes over, shooting through your limbs and dancing across your shoulders. Trickling down your back and burrowing into your spine. Without thinking you’re snatching Lauren’s hand, grip so tight that her palm gives beneath your nails. But she doesn’t draw away, instead clinging just as tightly and staring out the window. Every element in your body screams. Wailing beneath the stress and tension and hollow loss that infests your being.

“Help us,” you murmur into the early morning, pleading with the faint growth of colours splashing across the sky and begging the stars that shine down. Urging the moon to intervene or for the snow to part and lead you home. For someone, anyone, to hear you. “Help us, please.”

You don’t know what prompts you to move, but you’re lurching from the car and into the cold like you’ve been stung. Releasing Lauren’s hand without warning, blood rushing back to your white and strained knuckles. Gasping and breathing in the icy air amidst the groups insistence that you stay inside. But you aren’t listening to their cries, too busy hearing the wail of the wind and whistle of snow. Searching for the hollow cries that dance between the storm, the sounds of tearing metal cutting through the comfort you once found in nature.

When it comes you’re ready, the howl distant at first. But as it drones on it gets closer. Your throat closes and airways block with the scream you’re desperate to release, but refuse to allow. Snow swirls around your defiance, twisting gracefully around your being and refusing to touch your skin. And with it anger flares, unyielding and confident despite the fear that bubbles in the never ending pit of your stomach. A step forward feel like 10. Limbs shaking and knees threatening to buckle. But you don’t give in. Another step putting you further into the banks and deeper into the trees you haven’t expected to be so close to.

It’s through the dark that you see it. The black mass throbbing between the bark and branches, lost in the moss and shrouded in the storm. Towering impossibly over the tree trunks with eyes that blare like torches. Despite the snow, nothing clings to it’s fur. Flickering in the nothingness, it bellows. Caught beneath the claws digging into it’s perch.

And it sees you, too.

Turning slowly, it’s form waves in the wind that roars between your fingers, batting through your hair. You don’t give it the opportunity to reposition, hand raising and palm thrust forward without a second thought. And, though fear roots you in place, your voice remains steady over it’s growls. Confusion forced down in favour of actions you can’t quite place. “You are not welcome here.”

It doesn’t move, stuck momentarily in its surprise. And you say it again as soon as you see it consider approaching. More forceful, words white hot against your tongue. Like your cheeks should blister or mouth burst. “You are not welcome here!”

A flash of light rushes from your hand, burning cold and so bright it’s blinding. Almost liquid as it rushes towards the shadow curled between the trees. It wails, a sound lost to the wind and bellow of the storm. Buried beneath the cry of pain that trembles through your elbow. Recoiling, you stare at your trembling hand, old scars glowing a gentle, faint and silvered blue. Your palm shimmers, wrist locked in curling colour and fingers laced with carpenter cuts and a witch’s payment.

“What the fuck are you?” You don’t know what you’re talking to, still trapped in the light that dims into dormancy, skin left to simmer. And with it dies the storm, wind settling and snow slowing to a trickle. A few stray bursts dress your hair and wet your parted lips. “What the absolute fuck are you?”

“That’s a little rude, I should arrest you for that.”

“What?” You stumble at the response, whirling back towards the car. Inside it Alfredo and Trevor stare, shaken and locked on your hand. Lauren scampers from the vehicle, struggling with the door and slipping through the snow.

But it’s not them you’re paying attention too, instead focusing on the figure working its way through the snow. The smudge forms a person as it gets closer, Jeremy shielding his face from the weather and glow of headlights as Lauren launches to your side. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your phone call,” Jeremy says, perplexed and pulling up to you and your friend, her hand clamped on yours. “You called for help, and good thing, too. There’s been a recent bear sighting around here. C’mon, let’s get you home. You’re only about 10 minutes out. The patrol car should be able to get you out of the bank.”

[swanandapirate]

Tuesday (1/1)

It’s my blog’s second birthday today, yay! To honor that and because it’s Tuesday today, I decided to finally post this fic I have been working on for actual months. This fic is dedicated to @captainwiley because she let me use her parents’ epic romance to turn it into a fic prompt (she’s the rl Henry of this fic and just an amazing human being and beta-reader ♥ ) Also major thanks to @artandteaandstuff because she corrected and flailed too ♥

summary: Every Tuesday, she’s there, working late with her son and every Tuesday so is he. He offers to keep Henry busy so she can finish her tasks, but neither of them would have expected that Henry would grow to think ‘Mr.Killian’ is his dad.

This is as much a captain cobra fic as it is a captain swan one and it has a lot of Daddy!Killian feels (the three best things ever to write tbh, probs why this is so long. Also ‘cause it’s a modern AU and I always make those super long)

Rating: FF (Freaking Feelsy)

~17,700 words (so outrageously long wow)

ff.net and ao3

As head of the Books and Manuscripts Department in the New York division of Gold’s Auctioning House, Killian Jones understood the charm of ancient letters, the allure of rare books filled with secrets never spoken aloud. But dear god, the amount of money people were willing to spend for a scrap of Jane Austen prose was frankly absurd.

What would they even do with it, he often wondered. Would it be proudly displayed in their living room amongst other flauntings of their wealth, both intellectual and monetary? Would it be used to brag to their friends about the exclusiveness of the item? Or would it be appreciated as it should be, used as a reminder of days long gone, of a lifetime of an extraordinary woman and writer, of a pillar of English history and literature?

Being an English Literature major, Killian perfectly understood the latter. The former, however…

But this was Gold’s Auctioning House and his boss surely wanted the influx of money to be as big as it could get, wanted people to bid and fight in a direct battle against one another, transcending the actual estimated worth of the object and assuring the Auctioning House as much profit as possible.

It strayed far from Killian’s own ethics, the principles and good form brought to him by his older brother and ingrained in his being, but he was surrounded by literary treasures, was expected to keep them safe. Besides the rich, pompous atmosphere that clung to the walls and customers like a sharp perfume, he adored his job. This was what he was meant to do.

--/--

“Henry! No! Stop!” a female voice yelled.

A form, which Killian assumed was the Henry that needed to stop, flew along the archives and came to a halt right in front of him. It was a child with brown hair swept across his forehead and big brown eyes. His small chest slightly heaved with the running he had done and his eyes looked at him with something between wonder and fear.

“Hello,” Killian said, crouching down to turn himself from a scary giant into a friendly face, which seemed to work as the fear left the child’s expression, only leaving the wonder.

“Henry!” was yelled again and this time the woman to whom the voice belonged joined them as well. She ran, her blonde ponytail bouncing with the movement and her eyes scanning the rows frantically in search of the boy.

“I’m here, Mommy,” Henry said.

Her head snapped towards them and Killian could see her eyes widen in shock as she took in her son with the head of the department kneeling across him.

“Henry, you can't run off like that,” she reprimanded but her words lacked real authority. Killian would assume that was because he was there. The woman grabbed Henry and pulled him closer to her, as if she wanted to cover him, as if she felt the need to protect the lad from him. Henry’s little arms went around her white sweater as she picked him up and placed him on her hip.

Killian didn't recognize her. It wasn't unusual for him to not know everyone that worked in the department. They were one of the biggest of the company and Killian mainly had contact with the people who were directly below him on the hierarchical ladder. They were in charge of hiring the employees they needed and as long as it fit the budget, Killian would not interfere. He was certain that if he had seen her before, he would've remembered her; there was something alluring about her presence. It was a light against a dark canvas. Something that would leave a trace, that would still be visible eons after it had been there.

He stood up again—as there was no need for kneeling on the floor anymore—and left his thoughts about the impression she’d made on the cold granite. He looked her in the eye. An explanation of why Henry was running around here, and why she was still here while the rest of the employees had long left, was still owed to him.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Jones,” she began, apparently recognizing the request in his eyes. “I couldn't find a babysitter and I wasn't finished here, yet. Henry normally knows that he can’t run off and that he needs to keep quiet but he decided to ignore that today.”

“Normally?”

Only then did she realize her words and what they betrayed. She flinched, closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose and it was quite an adorable sight, even more so with the toddler in her arms softly patting his mother's face.

“You do this often?” he asked.

“I wouldn't say often,” she attempted to worm her way out of the situation. “But finding a babysitter is hard sometimes.” Her shoulders moved in a shrug and it conveyed sympathy on Killian’s behalf.

“What's your name?”

“Emma Swan.” She bit her lip as she answered.

“And I'm Henry,” the boy introduced himself proudly.

Killian felt a chuckle come up with Henry's openness, with the innocence that beamed out of him.

“Well, Swan,” he addressed Henry’s mother. “It's alright. Just make sure the lad doesn't touch anything he's not allowed to. I don't know how I would explain to Mr. Gold that a four-hundred-year-old manuscript was destroyed by a two-year-old.”

“I am three!” Henry objected, his small brows pulled into a frown. “And almost four.”

“I am sorry, lad. By an almost four-year-old,” Killian corrected himself while playfully ruffling the boy’s hair. Swan eyed him with wariness. Either she did not trust him to be close to her child or she did not trust his words of reassurance: the words promising her there were no consequences for bringing Henry, the words that told her she could continue to do so.

The words asking her to trust him had already gathered on the tip of his tongue, only requiring one last push to be pronounced, but Killian held them back. She did not know him, he did not know her. They had far too little insight into each other’s characters for him to request such a favor. He supposed a certain wariness towards the man in charge was not unsmart; he certainly did not trust his own boss fully, but then again Gold was a furtive man and Killian was… well, Killian. Hopefully, Emma did not consider him furtive. He hoped none of his employees did.

Before he could let his worries about her opinion on him take over, Killian chose to part with Emma and Henry, to finally go home as he had intended in the first place.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Killian said with a nod, announcing the decision he had made to his company.

Swan readjusted her grip on Henry, shifting the boy from her left hip to her right one.

“You too, sir.”

--/--

“Swan, Henry.”

It made him happier than it should have, seeing her nibbling on a pen as she stared at a row of documents while Henry sat at a small table, drawing chaotically on the white sheets that lay upon it, exactly a week since he had first met the pair.

“Mr. Jones.” She removed the pen from between her lips, stood a bit straighter and quickly checked on Henry to see if he was behaving. “I'm almost done here. We’ll be out of your hands in no time, I promise.”

Her white sweater from last week was replaced with a purple blouse but she still wore pants in that same shade of blue and the same high boots that almost came up to her knees. Her hair was loose today, no hair tie confining the wild curls flowing across her shoulders and with every small movement she made.

“Don't worry about it, Swan. I am done for the day,” he announced. An idea sprung in the back of his mind as he saw Henry peer up at him, some sort of yearning in the boy’s eyes. It had to be boring sitting here while your mother was focused on her work. “If you want—” Involuntarily, his hand went behind his ear to scratch, betraying his uncertainty, the hesitance with which he spoke and of which he hoped she had not noticed.”—I can watch Henry while you finish up.”

“Oh no, that's not necessary.” Her head shook, to decline or to get rid of the surprise that flashed across her features. “I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not and I offered.” His eyebrow rose. “I have a feeling Henry has some interesting things to tell me.”

“Mommy, can I?” Henry asked with an unprecedented enthusiasm, sending his crayon flying over the smooth surface of the table and onto the floor. It seemed the fondness he felt for Henry was reciprocated by the boy.

She was overpowered by them, stood alone while they stood together and in the end, she had no choice but to accept. Killian knew that. It may have been a bit low to enlist a three-year-old but if it was what the three-year-old desired and if it was by his own volition, who was he to stop the boy from looking up at his mother with the most doey eyes Killian had ever seen? While he expected Emma to have acquired some sort of immunity against the adorableness of her own son, she did not have any resistance against his blue eyes copying the act.

“Alright,” she sighed and bent down to speak to her son. “But Henry, please behave yourself and we are going home when I say we are, okay?”

Well-behavedly, Henry nodded. Swan stood back up, it being Killian’s turn to be addressed.

“I’ll try to hurry,” she promised him and Killian smiled in response.

“There’s no need, Swan. The lad and I get on just fine. Take all the time you need.”

With that, they were off. At first, Killian attempted to lead Henry to his office by telling him where to go, but he would not listen, straying from the path he had outlined for them and Killian realized the boy had no idea what left or right was and had no desire to learn. Seeing no use in continuing with his previous strategy, Killian simply offered his hand to Henry, which he gladly accepted.

“Here we are.” Killian opened the door and Henry ran in, head turning from left to right, scanning the entire room.

“Wow, you have a boat?” he immediately noticed, commenting on the large ship that stood on top of one of his filing cabinets. It was one of Killian’s most prized possessions, the replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger Liam had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday. Later, Killian had discovered that the “replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger” part was a whole lotta quatsch but the boat’s emotional value remained. By having it in his office, a piece of Liam was there too.

“It’s a ship,” Killian helpfully corrected. “And yes I do. I even have a real one.”

Henry’s eyes grew and his mouth fell open. Killian laughed with the amazement the lad’s features screamed.

“Can I see it, can I see it, can I see it?” The excitement made him trip over his words and almost trip over his own feet as he ran back to Killian, who saved him just in time from landing face first on the hard ground.

“Perhaps another day. For now, let’s stick to drawing, shall we?”

In acquiescence, Henry calmed down and let Killian lead him to the big mahogany desk that stood in the middle of the room. Killian lifted him and placed him in the fancy chair that stood behind it, a king on his throne. For himself, he rolled the chair that stood on the other side of the desk, the chair that was meant for visitors, next to Henry and sat down. His bottom drawer contained scraps of paper that had already served their purpose but had another go in them, were still capable to be doodled on or have little reminders scribbled onto them. Out of another drawer, Killian took crayons and two markers, frowning at the fact he did not have anything better for the boy to draw with.

“Mr. Jones?”

Henry’s small voice gently pulled him out of his thoughts and Killian moved his gaze off of the drawers and back to the child sitting next to him.

“You can call me Killian, Henry.”

“Mr. Killian?”

The boy pronounced Killian more like Killun which did all kind of things to Killian’s heart. Maybe it would have been easier to let Henry continue calling him Mr. Jones but the words carried such formality, created such a distance between them that it felt unsettling to Killian. His employees—most of them, anyways—called him that but that was because it was expected of them, because it reminded them who called the shots, but Henry had nothing to do with that and Killian had no right to any authority over Henry.

“Aye, if that's what you prefer, that's fine by me,” he mumbled more to himself than to Henry.

“Mr. Killian, is that why you don’t have a hand?” Killian dreaded the words that were about to follow. “Because you are a pirate?” Henry whispered the words as if they were a secret, as if he was the only one that had figured out the mystery. The dread dissolved.

“No, Henry. I’m not a pirate, sadly enough. I wish I were,” he admitted, “That would mean I could sail around the whole world, across all of the seas and I would take you with me as my first mate.” Henry widened his mouth, revealing his little teeth while doing so, in a smile. “I don’t have a hand because I was in an accident and sometimes those can make people lose hands.”

“Okay,” he accepted. “Can you draw a boat for me?”

Killian had to suppress a sigh of relief. Henry seemed so unwavered by the lack of his left hand, so unscarred by the scarred tissue on his wrist. It was a refreshing feeling. Adults always seemed to struggle to look past it. They could not refrain their eyes from sympathetic glances, nor could they stop their mouths from asking the questions he had heard a million times before. Does it still hurt? How did it happen? Living without a hand must be such a struggle? Why don’t you wear a prosthetic?

“Aye, lad. I can surely try.”

There was knock on his office door after a while, a quiet, hesitant thing and both he and Henry looked up from the color-streaked paper on the desk. Emma’s face appeared between the door opening, her eyes unsure where to look until they landed on them.

“Mommy!” Henry yelled joyously, how only a child that has missed his mother would upon reunion, and jumped off the chair to run towards her. Killian leaned back and watched them.

“Hey, honey.” She smiled while opening her arms for him. “Did you have fun with Mr. Jones?”

“Mr. Killian.”

“Oh, you're on a first name basis already. Lucky you.” She kissed his forehead and stood back up with Henry in her arms. Emma looked at him. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all, Swan.” He shook his head with a contented smile. “We drew pirate ships.”

“I asked Mr. Killian if he was a pirate but he is not,” Henry said, slightly disappointed.

“Well, this pirate better get home and into bed.” Emma’s pale hand brushed over the top of Henry's head, her fingers brushed through the brown hairs. A clear sign of affection that made Killian’s smile even more content.

“But Mommy.” Henry pursed his mouth and Killian saw the doey eyes return.

“No buts, Henry. You promised.” She was firm, strict, how a mother should be, but still, the words were soft and kind. Motherly. “Now, say goodnight to Mr. Jones and thank him for spending time with you.”

At the mention of him, Killian stood up, treating it like an invitation to interrupt the mother-son bonding that was taking place.

“Night, Mr. Killian. Thank you,” Henry obediently said to him.

He approached them and stopped when there was still a respectable distance between him and Swan, but was close enough to share a moment with Henry.

“You are very welcome, Henry.”

His eyes shifted to her.

“Umm… thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

She sounded anything but certain, but comfortable in his presence. Killian understood. It was a strange situation they had found themselves in. And yet, one he wanted to experience again.

“It was my pleasure. Goodnight.”

When he finally got home, hours later than he would on a normal day, it was with a content feeling. A feeling he had forgotten even still existed and deemed impossible to ever course through his body and mind again.

A feeling he wanted to experience again.

--/--

It became somewhat of a tradition, a thing to look forward to every Tuesday. He would walk out of his office after finishing the paperwork from auctions held over the weekend, make his way towards the archives and see her there, diligently stacking and retrieving and returning while Henry sat at that same small table. He would greet them, Emma softly smiling in return and Henry jumping up in utter glee.

Killian had to admit that the sudden appearance of toys in his office and a very secret stash of candy had everything to do with the little lad that would visit on Tuesdays. His interactions with Emma were limited to a simple hi when he came to fetch Henry and have a nice evening when she was done with her work and was ready to go home. He could not deny that there was an urge inside of him to know more about her but this was the only time their paths crossed and it would be a very strange sight for him to suddenly appear in the archives during work hours, a place he normally never set foot in. So a hello and a goodbye was all they had, all they got and everything Killian treasured.

“Rawtch.” Henry jumped up from behind his desk in a surprise attack, his small hand wrapped around a green Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Killian copied the sound and fought back with his own duplicate. The two toys collided in a head to head battle, more growls accompanying the fighting and eventually, Killian forfeited, dramatically falling down onto the ground with a shriek proclaiming his demise. Henry jumped up and down, giggling as he danced in victory.

“Henry is the winner! Mr. Killian losed because Henry is stronger than Mr. Killian.”

“Oi, lad,” Killian remonstrated, risen from the dead again. “I’ll have you know that I only lost because you had the bigger T-Rex.”

“No, you losed because I am better.”

“Oh, that will cost you.” Killian jumped up from the ground and swept Henry off the ground, the boy playfully hitting him and wriggling to attempt to escape from his grip.

“What is happening in here?” Emma suddenly stood in the door opening, and Killian and Henry looked at each other with wide eyes and let go of one another.

Thick as thieves, they replied, “Nothing” in chorus.

“Alright then,” Emma said, unconvinced after a small and amused chuckle. “Henry, I know you’re having fun with Mr. Killian, but it’s time to go home.”

Henry pouted while putting his T-Rex back into the drawer, the one that held all of the toys, the one whose insides only saw the light of day on Tuesdays.

“Mommy?” Henry asked.

His little feet took him to his mother, who stood with an outstretched hand for him to grab. Killian deposited his own dinosaur in the drawer and closed it until it would be opened again next week.

“Yes, Henry?”

“Is Mr. Killian my dad?”

Emma looked as if she was going to choke. Killian was pretty sure he looked like he was going to choke. All the while sweet, innocent Henry looked at them, not aware of the gravity of his words, only asking a question and now patiently waiting for the answer.

“No, Henry,” she answered, a sadness taking over her features, darkening them almost imperceptibly. He could see the struggle, the smile that seemed to painfully pull at the corners of her lips, the lines in her forehead that deepened, the gentle ache in her voice, her effort to prevent her emotions to be noticed by Henry. But Killian… well, he did. “He is not.”

And while he wanted nothing more than to ask if she was okay—question why Henry would think he was his father—all of the signs Henry was oblivious to and Killian not, prevented him to do so.

“Let’s go home, kid. I’m tired.”

--/--

“Swan,” he acknowledged her on the Tuesday that followed.

“Mr. Jones,” she did the same but kept her eyes trained on the big shelves and on her hands sliding the books back into their shelter for the night.

Killian searched around, trying to find his company for the evening but the small table was empty and there were absolutely no indications—no paper stacked, no crayons strewn, no backpack propped against the wall—that Henry was here or had been here.

“Is Henry not here tonight?” Killian questioned, hoping that his disappointment seemed less clear, more masked for her than the poor attempt it seemed in his eyes.

“No.” Emma had still not looked at him, back still turned towards him. “He’s sleeping over at a friend's house.”

And while that was a good explanation, one Killian could have accepted, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that his absence had something to do with what transpired between them a week ago. He was quite sure of it, actually. Because Emma Swan had never been this cold, this distant towards him, not even when they first met, and he’d like to think she’d warmed up to him over the weeks and hours spent with Henry. So, it had to be the Dad Incident (with capital D and I because it was such a capital moment in his life).

“The lad doesn’t have a father?”

He was aware of how prying it sounded, of how much she did not owe any explanation to him, but the answer felt like a pivotal piece of information, a revealing part of Emma Swan. That was why he expected her to ignore the question, to yell that he had no right to ask, to take off. And that was why when she did neither, Killian had to control his features from confessing his shock.

“He does not,” Emma replied.

Killian wanted to ask on but he could see how closed off Emma was, how rigid her shoulders were, how faltering her breath. She still hadn’t faced him.

“Henry is lucky with a mother like you.”

If he heard correctly, Emma let out a gasp in response, but it was late and he was tired and it was probably only his imagination conveying the sound, making him hear what he wanted to. There was nothing else, no answer, no looks, only silence, so Killian let it go. Let himself go home and her stay. It was for the best, probably.

He lay awake that night, the worry a constant source of activity in his brain. She seemed okay, so did Henry. He was a typical three-year-old with a vivid imagination. There was no trace of unhappiness, of some sort of deprivation in those dark eyes. They appeared perfectly content.

And yet.

Her job did not pay a lot and she spent so much time working. Emma Swan was a dedicated employee but Killian highly doubted her work would get prioritized over her son, her dedication as a mom even greater. It had to be a necessity, the working late, a thing to make ends meet, to keep their heads above water. Killian had hoped she had someone to support her, to share the task of raising Henry, but the fact that she took the boy there every Tuesday had already been a red flag.

A sliver of silver light intruded his otherwise dark bedroom. Killian rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and it eventually rested along his cheek, a steady breath warming his palm. He sighed and his hand fell next to his body again. He rolled his shoulders to find a better position in the large, empty bed, between the cold sheets. Time passed but he had no idea how much time exactly before he finally drifted off.

--/--

“Belle?”

“Yes, Killian?” The brunette spun on her chair and her blue eyes met Killian’s, the corner of her eyes slightly crinkled by the smile on her lips.

He sat down on an empty corner of her desk, one leg still connected to the floor and the other dangling over the edge. He ran his fingers through his dark locks while he sensed Belle’s expectant gaze on him.

“Is there a woman named Emma Swan that works in the archives for you?”

If Belle was surprised by his seemingly random and very specific inquiry, she hid it well. Much to the relief of Killian; he had no idea how he would go about explaining his sudden interest in her. Then again, he was Belle’s boss; he had no obligation to explain himself to her, but as her friend, he kind of did.

“Yes, I hired her about—” Belle pursed her lips in thought. “—seven months ago, I would say.”

“And how does she do her job?”

Killian already had an idea of what the answer to his question would be but he needed to be absolutely certain, to hear it from someone who saw her every day and not only on Tuesdays.

“Incredibly, to be honest,” Belle replied in her typical Aussie way of speaking. “She's always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. You would think putting and retrieving files into the archives has some greater meaning for the greater good the way she does her job. She has been my savior several times when the others failed me.”

Silently, Belle asked him if he needed to hear more, if she needed to tell him more.

“Hmm,” he hummed while softly shaking his head.

He knew enough.

Emma Swan had always been a good employee—working long hours, working until her body ached only to go home to care of a three-year-old. She worked faster than the others, more thoroughly and more immaculate. In the time it took the others to do one task, Emma would make sure she’d done two. If you were the best, the probability of getting fired, of ending up without any money, any food to feed your child, or the chances of getting kicked out of the closet their landlord dared to call an apartment were smaller. She had to be the best for Henry and a couple of hours of extra sleep were nothing compared to her kid’s happiness.

And still, one day when her boss—not Belle but her boss-boss, Mr. Jones or Mr. Killian as her kid had called him… Mr. Killian and something else—summoned her to his office, Emma was one hundred percent sure that it was all over for her.

She’d walked this path through the halls several times, but never had she done it on a Friday, never had she done it when there were other people around, when the sun had not yet set. Those never’s were the instigators of her fear, of her conviction that she was getting fired.

Emma had tried to forget what happened last Tuesday and more importantly, the Tuesday before that, but it had taken a lot of power to barricade those thoughts and sometimes a brick would fall down, giving leeway for the memory to slip in and catch her off-guard.

Mr. Jones didn’t seem to be a vindictive man, far from it actually; he seemed kind and gentle and Emma completely understood why Henry would want to know if her boss was his dad. At least that would explain his behavior, his caring about them. No, he was not a vindictive man, but why had he suddenly decided to fire her now?

Halting before the door, Emma stared at the silver plaque. Killian Jones. Head of the Books and Manuscripts Department. She let out a shuddering breath, closing her eyes while pushing her balled hand forward until it met the wooden door, creating a harsh knock in the process.

“Yes, come on in!” a muffled voice yelled. The door did not suppress the British lilt of the speaker, however.

“You sent for me, Mr. Jones?”

“Ah, yes, Miss Swan. Do sit down.” His hand gestured towards the chair across him.

He had never called her Miss Swan before. It was always just Swan. He was distancing himself, pretending all of those Tuesdays had never happened to make this less painful for him. Oh god. A chill ran up and down her arms. She was going to get fired.

“Please don’t fire me,” she begged before Jones could even begin speaking. “I have a son to take care of. I will work harder, work longer. Just… please don’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word and it felt like the dam holding back the tears in her eyes had too because a tear rolled down.

“Swan, I’m not going to fire you,” he replied, “On the contrary, I’m giving you a promotion for all of the splendid work you’ve done.”

But Emma still could not calm down, could not stop the tears from flowing regardless of how much she rubbed and how much she blinked. Through her blurry vision, she could see Mr. Jones stand up and walk around his desk. Her hands came up to cover her face, hiding her red eyes and running nose from him. Her chair slightly moved and as Emma peeked between her fingers to find out as to why, she detected him sitting before her, one knee on the floor and holding something in front of her.

"Stop crying, love. Breathe, Swan." His soft voice did seem to help a bit if she focused on it, if she didn’t think about where they were and who he was and what he had just told her but only listened to the sounds of his timbre, the cadence of his accent.

His hand was holding a navy blue handkerchief, offering it to her, and Emma accepted, pressing the piece of soft fabric against her eyes and nose.

Of course he was the kind of guy that carried a handkerchief with him wherever he went.

After having snotted all over the handkerchief and having calmed down to the point that the tears had stopped forming and she did not feel like dropping onto the floor and curling into a ball anymore, Emma hesitantly handed the used cloth back, grimacing in embarrassment.

"Sorry for ruining your handkerchief," she apologized.

Jones chuckled in reply and stuffed it back into his pocket before standing up again.

"No worries, love. Nothing a good wash can't solve.” He leaned against the desk, widening the distance between them while maintaining their proximity. “Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. It's just—” Quickly, her hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I felt a bit overwhelmed. I really thought you were going to fire me.”

"Why would I fire you when you're one of my best employees?” His eyebrow went up as he questioned her fears. And when he pronounced them, a handsome smile on his lips, they seemed so irrational, so illogical for them to make sense. “Besides, I don't want Henry to be angry with Mr. Killian."

The affection in his voice, the affection for her kid, surprised her. Enough to make the words disappear out of her mouth and mind.

"How is the lad doing?" he asked, after some blinks of silence.

"Um… fine,” Emma replied, trying to restrict the shock in her voice. “He's being Henry which means a lot of questions and very little answers."

Mr. Jones laughed and Emma stared at him, the way a dimple appeared in his cheek and he slightly threw back his head.

This was her boss.

And she’d already had a mental breakdown and completely destroyed his handkerchief today She needed to leave. Right now.

“If you don't mind, I'm going to finish the thing I was doing.”

To make her words sound less vague, she pointed behind her but it didn't really help.

“Oh no, sure.” He seemed dazed for a moment, looking back at his desk in search of something and eventually giving up the search. “I'll tell Belle to fill you in about the new job, your tasks and what not. If you agree, she'll have your contract too and all you have to do is sign. You're free to go.”

Emma didn't even let him finish her sentence before she quickly replied thanks and dashed out of the office and more importantly, away from him.

--/--

Jones checked on her constantly, asked her to visit his office and every time, Emma got a flash of fear. She’d done something wrong. This was the end. Back to her crappy job and crappy pay and no more free time with Henry. She’d walk towards his office, bracing herself for the blow, and then he would just smile and welcome her. She would sit down and he’d asked how work was going, if she understood everything, if she had encountered any problems. And he would always finish with asking how Henry was.

It was always on a Tuesday.

--/--

Gold’s Auctioning House had a company holiday, two set weeks in July where every single one of them had time off. It had been part of the allure, part of why Emma eagerly responded to the rubric in the paper. Because no matter how shitty her job or boss could be, those two weeks were set in stone. Looking back, her boss had not been shitty and her job had only sucked because of the long hours and low pay. She never would've imagined that by the time July rolled by, she would’ve been promoted to an actual fun job with actual good hours. Either way, July meant two uninterrupted weeks spent with Henry and now that she’d received a higher pay, they would be able to go places, to do things.

Apparently, July also meant a Books and Manuscripts barbecue right before the holiday began. It was tradition, Belle had told her. Something that came into place when Jones had transferred from the London division right before the holiday and had wanted to get to know everyone before he officially became their boss.

Emma decided to ignore the event, decided to forego the fuss and simply stay home and watch a movie or two. She wasn’t really the socializing type and to be forced to converse with her colleagues, whom she barely knew, while eating hamburgers in some sort of team spirit before singing Kumbaya around the campfire, was something she could live without.

But she was careless and left the invitation lingering around her apartment and it ended up just in the right place for her best friend to find as she came to watch Henry. Mary Margaret Blanchard was her guardian angel—a mother even, had they not been only three years apart. She was kind and smart and was also a big supporter of Emma having a social life. So when she had cast her eyes on the sheet of paper, she had instantaneously offered to babysit, proposed a shopping trip and convinced Emma she should get to know the people she worked with.

All of which, Emma now regretted accepting.

Except for the shopping, because the red summer dress she was wearing was stunning and accentuated just the right places.

Her fingers toyed with the glass in her hand, with the condensation gathering on the outside, drawing little figures, writing her name in boredom. She truly knew no one here, no one of the overwhelming mass of people chatting and drinking and eating. She did not even realize this many people worked in the department. After another sweep of her company, she spotted Belle’s chestnut hair twisted into a braid. She was wearing a purple sundress and was engulfed in a conversation with a tall woman with bright red lips. They laughed and the sound was enough to chase away Emma’s idea to join them.

She took a sip of champagne and closed her eyes, letting the July sun warm her skin. The feeling made her lips curl in enjoyment.

“May I have your attention?” The voice broke her out of her summer delight and made her eyes pop open. She knew that voice.

Her suspicion was right because when her vision returned, Jones stood on a small stage, glass of champagne in his hand and all of the looks directed towards him.

“Thank you all for joining me in celebrating yet another successful year. This year has been the department’s most profitable year and that would not have been possible without all of your efforts. Mr. Gold has asked me to transfer his gratitude towards everyone and his hope that you will all participate to try and make next year even more successful. But let’s not think of that just yet. First, there are two weeks of well-deserved holiday that we all should enjoy to the fullest before returning to work. Heaven knows I will.” The crowd chuckled. “Enjoy the food and drinks and enjoy your holidays. It’s been a pleasure.” Jones lifted his glass and the others copied the movement before clapping with wide smiles.

Killian Jones was, besides Belle, the only one she had spoken with in the month following her promotion and he was the only one with whom the subjects of conversation were not solely dedicated to work. But surely he was busy at this event that he had organized and she did not want to bother him with her company. There was also the matter of her uncertainty when situations involved him. He was her boss but because of Henry and his curiosity, their lives were more intertwined than they should be.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea in the first place to have let him near Henry, to have let them bond because she now had her boss and her child constantly asking about one another. It was easy, though, to pretend Jones really was his father even if it only was on Tuesday; Henry gained a role model and she gained focus on her work. And god, if the sight of them playing pirate or dinosaur hadn’t attacked her heart enough already, her kid talking about his Mr. Killian as if he had hung the moon and lit the stars certainly would.

She grew sick of appearing lonely and fiddling around, having been on the receiving end of pitiful looks far too often, so she grabbed herself a new glass, placed a couple of onion rings—she owed the person who put them on the menu a profuse thank you—on one of the cardboard plates and removed herself from the party.

The park the gathering was held in was not particularly large but it was big enough to put a considerable distance between her and the people—person—she was avoiding while still being able to have a visual on them. There was a pond, an idyllic mass of water with water lilies on the edge and a pair of ducks occasionally traversing it, and it seemed like the perfect place to sit and relax and eat her onion rings. Her eyes fell on a bench, brown with green, mossy discolorations and with a view of the pond. Emma carefully picked a spot that was not tarnished by moss or bird poop that would not stain her new dress and sat down.

She was about to take a bite from her second onion ring when the sound of footsteps crackled along the branches lying on the cobblestone pathway, the connection between the party and the calm, the others and her. Emma looked up, fully expecting the intruder to be one of her colleagues out on a stroll or out for a smoke and preparing herself for a cordial nod before turning back to her food.  It wasn’t someone there to enjoy the scenery or inhale toxic fumes, it was him.

Mr. Jones. Mr. Killian, whatever. Him.

“Here you are, Swan.” He moved a branch out of the way to reach her. “I was afraid you had left."

The words made her frown. She didn’t matter. Why would he be afraid she had left? How did he even notice her absence?

He was nicely dressed but it had a casual air, as if he had just randomly picked something out of his dresser and put it on. The white shirt was tight around his body, emphasized every curve of his muscles and every sharp edge of his physique. He had one sleeve rolled up to his elbow and the other hung loosely over his left arm. Unlike other times she had seen him, he was now wearing a prosthetic, a near-to-life limb with curved fingers.

"Nope,” she said, her lips popping against each other. “Only wanted to isolate myself without really leaving."

Jones nodded towards the empty spot beside her, asking permission to join her and Emma agreed, seeing no direct reason to deny him. If he felt like sitting on a bench overlooking the pond with her, it was his right to do so. It was a free country after all.

"Ah, I get that."

"Isn't this your party?" Emma questioned the understanding he showed.

He had just made a speech to congratulate them all, had just been received with applause and smiles of his doting employees. There should be no reason he would want to leave them.

"I organized it but it's their—" Jones motioned his head to the others vividly babbling and drinking and eating. “—party.”

Quite a few things that she wanted to say appeared in her mind, but her gut told her they would all lead to risky waters, to too heavy conversations for the light and sunny day they were enjoying. And seeing that she forbade herself from uttering her thoughts, Emma chose not to reply, causing silence to dance around them.

It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps a little unfamiliar, but not extremely so. They just had to adjust to being around each other without Henry babbling between them—without Henry in general and outside of work. Not that Emma was foreseeing a lot of situations where that would be necessary.

"So," Jones said, cautiously and metaphorically tapping the silence, creating a crack and a break. "—any fun plans for the holiday?"

The question was an ordinary one, one she would expect a lot of her colleagues would ask each other in curiosity or politeness, but Emma still hesitated to tell him her plans, to indulge him. It had been difficult enough to cut all—non-professional—ties with him and keep Henry away from him, wasn't telling him all about her two weeks off reverse all of the efforts she had made?

In the end, the soft blue of his eyes and the kind smile on his lips were enough to persuade her otherwise. She wiped her hands on a napkin, getting rid of the excess grease from the onion rings, and clasped her hands together before answering.

"Probably let my kid boss me around.” She shrugged. “It's been awhile since he’s had his mom for him all alone.”

Jones let out a sound that wasn't just a chuckle but also not only a hum; it was a mixture of both and Emma couldn't stop the desire to hear it more often from sneaking in.

"He's a lucky lad.”

She sensed the duality of his words, the underlying meaning of the statement and decided it was best to not reply. Too heavy conversations and all that.

"And you?" she eventually asked, "Any plans for the next two weeks?"

"Yes,” he replied, stretching the word out until it was nothing but a hiss. “I'm going on a cruise.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she tilted her head in surprise.

"Huh.” Her eyebrows rose again and her expression became more neutral, or more positive, at least. “Cool. Didn't peg you as a cruise kinda guy, though.”

Jones lifted his shoulders, the white fabric of his shirt clinging to him like a second skin moving along.

“And yet, I am still going.”

He responded with a kind of defensiveness that made Emma look for a way to defer the conversation into a less dangerous territory and if the only way to do that was to talk about herself, so be it.

“I’ve never been on a boat.”

A sound of amusement left Jones’ mouth and it made Emma frown, retracing her steps and words to look for a clue as to what he considered so entertaining, especially so quickly after the shift in his mood.

“They’re called ships, not boats. There’s a difference,” he indulged her after noticing the crease between her eyebrows.

“I haven’t been on a ship either, so I did not know that.” Her words were creating her own defensive reaction; she didn’t want to seem uneducated, oblivious to ordinary things that he seemingly was an expert in. Emma didn’t want to stay that woman that didn’t belong with the crowd because he had brought her there.

“You really haven’t?”

Eyes focused on the calm and undisturbed water, Emma shook her head.  “Nor have I left the country.” She was supplying him with so much information and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d been so careful during their previous interactions, sticking to simple greetings and farewells. They entailed no risk but what she was doing right now did.

“Well, my accent kind of betrays that I have.” He was drawing the attention back to himself, which Emma appreciated greatly.

“It does.” Her movement slightly slowed down by her hesitance, Emma turned her head. Her teeth created a dent in her lower lip as she considered letting the conversation stop there and them part ways again, as she thought about staying in his company a bit longer. “Belle told me something about London?” The latter seemed far more tempting.

“Aye.” And if he was surprised that Belle and Emma had discussed him, he didn’t let it show, he simply told his story undeterred. “I was born south of London, moved there after I graduated from university, started working at Gold’s, became second-in-command and when Gold was searching for someone to temporarily take over the new New York division, until it was up and running, I took the chance.”

“You just up and left?”

“I did,” he said, making it sound so effortless to detach all connections and settle somewhere new. “Seemed a bit of an adventure. I don’t regret it.”

Emma hummed, letting him know she understood. “You were able to just start over. Can’t say how many times I’ve wanted that.”

His cyan eyes watched her carefully and Emma became too aware of her breathing and her movements and of every blink. He was trying to read her, to figure her out; she was no stranger to the feeling, the little alarm bells screaming that there was a trespasser over and over again. No one had ever actually managed—not without her full and complete consent—to figure her out, but it did not seem as if Jones required her to lower her defenses. His look was too understanding for that to be the case, too suffocatingly soft.

She cleared her throat, attempting to stop the obstruction preventing her from properly breathing, but it was in vain. It was all too much.

“I think I'm going to go home,” Emma broke the spell. “I don't want to bother my best friend with Henry for too long.”

“I'm certain the lad is being his stellar self.”

And again, Emma had no idea what to reply. Should she thank Jones? Pretend she didn't hear the compliment? Wave it off as if Henry wasn't the amazing child he was? Take credit for her kid being himself?

“I'm sure he is, but even Henry's stellar self can be a lot to handle sometimes.” Emma stood up and Killian followed the movement with his eyes. She reached for her empty plate of onion rings to dispose of it, but he put a halt to it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

Emma’s hand hung awkwardly in the space between them, before she retracted it and clasped her hands together, the thumb of her right one nervously rubbing the palm of her left. “Thanks.”

He rose as well, his hand grabbing the greasy cardboard plate and towered over her as he approached. Emma had to tilt her head to be able to look him in the eyes and when she did, he simply smiled. It was an everyday gesture but somehow felt so rare. Like she had never seen a smile before, nor did she know dimples could appear and she wasn’t aware the skin around his eyes would crease.

Before she knew it, her own lips curled too. Across from each other, they stood, neither making any movements to leave. If Emma wasn’t too much in denial of it all, she would consider it a moment between them.

“I have to go get—” she reminded him and more importantly herself.

“—Henry. I know,” he finished her sentence while lifting a corner of his lips.

Emma blinked and quickly wetted her lips, her mind racing along roads filled with possible answers and responses, until it slowed down and settled for a kind and casual, “Have fun on your cruise.”

“I will, thank you. Have fun letting Henry boss you around.”

“I will too.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Swan.”

He nodded—and possibly winked but it happened so fast Emma wasn’t certain—before retracing his steps and leaving along the same path he had come, her little plate in his hand. Her gaze was glued to his backside as he exited and detected his now relaxed shoulders and the little spring in his step.

It was a good thing she had time to recover and clear her mind after today because she definitely needed it. Those two weeks would come in very handy.

--/--

Day two of Emma’s vacation and Henry had already made a schedule of what they would do on what day. Well, Henry had rambled things that were both manageable and quite frankly impossible—a trip to the moon was slightly over budget—and Emma had made a selection, planning them accordingly. Today, they were going to the zoo; tomorrow, spend the day with Mary Margaret and David; on Thursday, they would bake cupcakes, and so the list went on.

“I really wanna see the monkeys and the tigers and the giraffes and um… Mommy!” Henry pulled her arm. “Do you think they have cobras?”

“I don’t know, Henry,” Emma answered truthfully. “We’ll have to ask, but cobras are very dangerous animals.”

Emma scanned the street for oncoming traffic and tightened her grip on Henry’s small hand as they crossed the street, a couple of steps closer to where the fun would begin and all of her son’s questions would be answered.

It was silent again and Emma could already spot the bustle of people, the parents with their offspring in tow, making their way to the zoo. It was a perfect day, not too warm, not too cold, perfectly average, for a visit to the zoo and it was clear she hadn’t been the only parent to think so. They stood still while Emma was grabbing everything she required before entering.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“What is it, Henry?” she said a bit annoyed, eyes and hands scouring the insides of her purse for their reservation and her wallet.

“It’s Mr. Killian.”

Emma shook her head while her eyes were still trained on the leather purse hanging on her shoulder.

“Honey, that's not possible. Mr. Killian is not—” Henry tugged on her shirt and she let out a frustrated sigh. “Henry, I’m trying to find our reservation. We can’t go inside if I don’t find them.” Her words appeared to work as the pressure on her waist disappeared. And finally, her fingers encountered the small, square of paper.

“I got them!” Emma exclaimed in victory. “Now, we can go inside, Henry.” But there was no sign of her son. “Henry?” She felt the fear soar as she could not detect his brown locks or bright backpack anywhere. She was on the verge of turning frantic, of starting to scream his name at the top of her lungs until he reappeared in the mass of people.

That was when she saw him. Both of them actually.

He had Henry in his arms and determinedly walked her way once their gazes met. He had Henry. Everything was alright, Henry was alright. He had Henry.

Emma met them halfway with both relief and anger streaming through her veins.

“Henry Swan. Don’t you ever, ever run off like that again, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy.” He pursed his lips in regret. “Wanted to say hi to Mr. Killian.” The big, brown eyes quickly filled with tears and Emma took Henry out of Jones’ arms and held onto him tightly, closing her eyes while basking in the feeling.                                      

“I know, baby, but you gotta be careful, alright. What if it wasn’t really Mr. Killian? What if you couldn’t find me again? That would not be good, would it?” The liquid of Henry’s tears drenched through her shirt and Emma gently bounced up and down to calm him down a bit, cupping his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her shoulder and instead of replying Emma chose to kiss the top of his head to reassure him, to tell him her anger mostly consisted of fear.

She breathed Henry’s smell in and let the air woosh back out in relief. Opening her eyes anew, she was reminded of his presence. Jones seemed perfectly content with just watching them, though.

Emma slightly frowned and claimed his attention with a soft voice, almost a whisper, “I thought you were on a cruise?”

“Ah,” was the first thing he said and it was followed by his hand disappearing into his hair. “I canceled it. Realized I wasn’t really a cruise kinda guy.” His lips moved into a smirk as he repeated her words from a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t really her place to question him about his whereabouts and he did just bring her son back to her. Something she hadn’t even thought about, hadn’t even thanked him for yet.

“Thank you.” Her head motioned toward the three-year-old in her arms.

In response, Jones’ shoulders went up in a minimizing shrug. “Don’t mention it, Swan.”

Of all the things she had noticed about Mr. Jones, the way he minimized his actions was one of the more surprising ones. Types like him often boasted about their accomplishments and acts of benevolence with a puffed out chest, but Jones always swept them aside to a point where one could think he was embarrassed by all the good he did, of all the fame he received in return. He had voluntarily spent hours with Henry to make her work easier and never once asked for something in return, insisting that he did not require anything. A thank you from Emma’s part had even been too much sometimes, his hand already waving it away before her lips could close around the word. Maybe Emma had miscategorized him, placed him in a group with people he did not belong with, with characteristics he did not have. But where did he belong? Who was Killian Jones?

Henry moved, leaving Emma’s shoulder that was functioning as a hiding place, and shyly looked up at her. The remnants of tears lingered on the edges of his eyes and Emma felt the sight tug on her heart, felt her motherly mode activate as she tenderly wiped them away and offered him some more consolation.

“You think you’re ready to see the monkeys and the tigers now?” she asked. Henry sniffed and nodded but the answer wasn’t enough to satisfy Emma. “But are you completely sure, because we could go home too, if that’s what you wanted.”

He leaned back, straightened his back and started shaking his head. First, slowly but as his conviction grew, the movement accelerated, shaking both Henry and her.

“No, no, no, no, no. Henry is ready. I wanna see all of the monkeys.”

Emma laughed, happy with the return of her kid, of how she knew him to be.

“Well, if that’s what you want, then we’ll go see all of the monkeys,” Emma confirmed before setting her son back on the ground. Holding him for longer periods of time was getting more difficult now that he was growing so fast. It all went by in a flash. She could still remember when small, little Henry was placed into her hands. It had changed everything and Emma would be the first to admit it had not all been a fairytale with rainbows and sunshine, but it had been real. Filled with pain and tantrums and wondering if their life would ever become better, but they had made it. Together.

Henry clasped his small hand around hers when her arms dropped him off on the ground and it seemed like he had momentarily forgotten about the presence of his beloved Mr. Killian too, because his eyes widened when he saw him.

“Mr—” His greeting was interrupted by a small hiccup, a side effect of the crying fit he had been afflicted with. “Mr. Killian,” he attempted again. “Mommy and Henry are going to the zoo. Will you come too?”

Emma should’ve seen this coming. Of course, Henry would want him to join them.

“Henry.” It was said in a mix of disapproval and regret she had perfected over the years. “I’m sure Mr. Killian has better things to do than to go to the zoo.”

It was a lie. She was anything but convinced, to be honest. Jones had been standing with them for a while, had patiently endured Henry’s meltdown, Emma’s soothing, their talking. If he had anything better to do, he probably would’ve excused himself, left right after he had reunited mother and son. None of that happened, instead, he stood across them with an expression Emma could not decipher.

“I don't actually,” Jones replied, confirming her suspicion. “If your mum’s alright with it, lad, I would love to come along.” His attention moved from Henry to her, and not for the first time, Emma found herself attacked by two sets of puppy eyes.

“Mommy, mommy. Please, please.”

To deny them their request, required willpower Emma did not possess. Or she did but it was not reserved for unforeseen situations like this where she would only make the owners of the puppy eyes sad by saying no. So, while she mentally prepared herself for a whole day in the presence of Jones, she nodded.

“Okay, fine. Mr… Killian—” She gestured towards him in surrender. “—can visit the zoo with us. But no shenanigans. From either of you.” She sent them both a warning look, one they both did not notice as they were happily smiling at each other. “Those are my terms,” Emma stipulated.

“Well, I have a condition too,” Jones said and Emma frowned. Surely, he must have realized he wasn't in the position of having conditions. She was the one granting him a day with them and he was the one gaining in this situation. He and Henry.

“My treat. The tickets,” he clarified. “I'll pay them.”

While it was a generous offer, Emma felt dismayed by it, almost offended.

“I don’t need you to be some kind of savior. I am perfectly able to pay for this myself.”

Jones’ hand came in front of him to calm her down, to reassure her that his motives were true.

“I know, Swan.” There was no irritation, no embarrassment, no smarty undertone. Just sincerity. He knew. “I simply wanted to thank you for letting me tag along.”

Oh.

The shame warmed her cheeks and turned her skin a rosy color. Her free hand brushed some hair behind her ear while attempting to cool off her face by subtly placing her palm on it.

“Sorry. Um… I had already reserved some tickets for Henry and me online but I'm sure you can just buy another one...”

An impatient pull snapped her out of the situation.

“Mommy. I wanna go to the zoo.”

“Yeah, kid. We're going right now.”

Jones was, though she shouldn't be surprised, a connoisseur of both sea animals and birds, providing all of them with elaborate background stories on the animals they saw, and was therefore, even more, Henry's hero. They walked and he pointed and by the time they had almost done the entire tour. Even Emma had learned new things and some interesting fun facts.

The zoo had a carousel, an old but well-maintained ride with horses, and Henry visibly lit up when he set eyes on it. As fast as his little legs could transport him, he ran until he stood before it.

He looked back at Emma and while he had not uttered a word, she knew he was asking for permission. In reply, Emma nodded, causing Henry to gleefully laugh at the prospect of getting a ride on the attraction.

A bench stood a bit further, far enough to avoid the bustle of excited children and hovering parents, but close enough to be able to keep an eye on Henry. Her feet were slightly hurting after the hours of walking they had done and the prospect of sitting down was far too alluring. She sat on one side and felt Jones covertly occupy the other one. With the utmost stealth, Emma risked a glance towards him. His eyes were on the carousel, focused enough for Emma to dare and turn her head completely, her stealth forgotten. She watched the curve of his jaw, the light stubble that adorned it, the way his eyelashes hit the apple of his cheek every time he blinked.

He must have sensed her watching him—not that she was that subtle—as he turned his head and met her eyes. His somewhat shy smile prompted Emma to ask something she'd been wanting to for a while.

“Did you actually cancel your cruise? Because I’m quite good at spotting a lie and I wasn’t kidding when I said you didn’t seem like a cruise kinda guy.”

“No.” His gaze flickered back to the carousel as he briefly shook his head. Emma couldn't say she was surprised by the answer but she did expect extracting it out of him would've been more difficult. “I did not cancel my cruise because I never booked it.”

It did not come as a shock to Emma, nor did the knowledge that he lied to her sting like it normally did. She abhorred liars, hated it when their words were badly received by the lie detector embedded in her brain. And once a liar, always a liar, especially if it involved such a small lie that could be avoided. If his first instinct was to lie, it always would be. But somehow, it was different with him.

The circumstances were the same; he had lied because he wanted to hide something and he'd told the lie twice. Emma's reaction to finding out, however, was not. She was calm and was ready to hear his story. Maybe it was her gut telling her that he was a good guy and his lie was not meant to hurt anyone, just to protect himself. How her gut had figured that out, she had no idea.

“Why did you lie?”

Jones wiped his hand on the jeans of his pants, rubbing and clenching, telltale signs of nervousness. Emma did not want to put him on the spot, force him to tell his tale to a virtual stranger when he was not ready.

“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse but as far as our colleagues know, I’ve gone on a cruise every single year since they’ve known me.”

“And you’ve never actually gone,” Emma concluded.

“No.” His eyes sought out hers only to break the connection again when they crossed. “I’ve spent every holiday in New York. To think of it, it’s a miracle I haven’t run into anyone sooner. It’s not like I’m in hiding or something.”

“Far from it, Henry was able to spot you from a mile away.” Emma softly smiled, simply turning the corners of her mouth upwards but keeping her lips glued to each other. “But why though? Isn’t it just easier to tell everyone you’re not going anywhere than lie?”

“I’m their boss.” Jones shrugged. “They all expect me to go on some extravagant trip around the world because that’s who they think I am, who they perceive me as. When I moved here, I wanted to start anew, not drag my past along, so I put on an act. And staying home all alone did not fit that act.”

Emma opened her mouth to react but was interrupted.

“Mommy!” They both changed their demeanor, pretended their topic of conversation was far lighter than it truly was and smiled when Henry came running. “It was so fun!”

Killian Jones was broken, Emma realized. It seemed like he genuinely enjoyed Henry’s company and that Henry acted as a distraction of his brokenness. She understood—the being broken, the solitude, the little sparkle of hope that Henry could be in a bleak existence. It would seem that they were a lot alike. Kindred spirits. That realization shifted the way she saw things. The way she saw him.

“Killian,” Emma addressed him for the first time, “I was wondering if you’d like to join Henry and me again tomorrow. We’re going to buy cupcakes and eat them in the park.”

Both Henry and Killian watched her with big eyes, the one in surprise and joy, the other in utter shock and confusion.

“Are you certain?” His dark brows furrowed. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, you won’t,” Emma assured. Her lips were a smile, her voice kind. “I’m sure Henry would love to spend some more time with Mr. Killian, wouldn't you, Henry?”

“Yes!”

Emma looked from Henry to Killian, her eyebrow raised to ask him once again but without words and Killian nodded in acquiescence.

“Then it's settled.”

His hands were sweaty, a clear external sign of his internal nervousness. Or perhaps it was excitement; or a sweat-inducing mix of the two.

Emma had invited him to spend another day together with her and her son after their run-in yesterday. This was different though; yesterday was one hundred percent coincidental, only occurring because Henry had seen him while he and his mother were waiting before the entrance of the zoo and as Killian was making his way to the docks. It was a joyful reunion. They had not seen each other in weeks and while he couldn't assume anything about Henry, Killian surely had missed his Tuesday companion.

It had taken Killian about seventeen seconds of Henry's babbling to realize that he was missing a blonde mother, or his blonde mother was missing Henry. He grabbed ahold of Henry and scanned the crowd in search of her.

He had found her, they had found each other and they had spoken and walked and watched animals and it had been a long time since he had had such a diverting day. Which was why, when Swan proposed another one, he had to put a break on his excitement so his wholehearted ‘yes’ would not seem too eager.

Which was why he felt nervous as he waited on a bench by the entrance of the park Emma had told him to be at three p.m..

There were still four minutes left until the levers of his watch would signal it was time. Killian had been watching them constantly, keeping an eye on the time, letting the minutes tick by. He was a punctual man, always had been. There was a whole backstory to why he considered tardiness as most irksome, one that was filled with pain and heartbreak. Liam and he quickly learned in life that people who tended to be late were often of the unreliable sort and they were to be banished from their lives, avoided at all costs, in order to prevent history from repeating itself.

He rarely took risks just because of that reason, because taking risks had led to losing people and losing people had led to sorrow, sorrow had led to drinking and losing complete control and that had almost ruined his life. So he took back the reins, got his life in order, started anew, and was always on time.

That hadn’t changed but this definitely was a risk. Everything involving Swan and her boy had been, and still, he pursued, continued bonding with them, kept on meeting them and accepted their invitation. Because not taking risks could be very lonely at times.

It was forty-nine seconds to three p.m. when they appeared in his sight, walking hand in hand, engaged in a vivid conversation.

Stretching his legs, Killian stood up as they approached to greet them properly. There was nothing fraudulent about the happiness that he beamed, this was truly what their company did to him.

“Emma, Henry,” he acknowledged when they came close enough.

“Killian,” Emma politely retributed.

“Mr. Killian!” Henry almost yelled, his childish enthusiasm taking over. “Look, pirates!” Henry’s small index went to point at his bright shirt that was indeed decorated with pirates and ships.

“That’s incredible, lad. I’m very jealous of your T-shirt.”

“Mommy.” Henry pulled on Swan’s white blouse. “Mr. Killian likes my pirates.”

Emma laughed. “I know, honey. I heard. You clearly chose the best T-shirt to wear today.”

They began to walk in the direction of the playground, Henry filling the small promenade with words that were occasionally difficult to follow and seemed to skip from one topic to another but that were very entertaining nonetheless. The boy’s imagination kept on astounding him time and time again. He’d make a fine author or storyteller one day, of that Killian was sure.

The time flew by as Henry went up the slide and down, swung forwards and backwards on the swing, and built and destructed a castle made out of sand.

“Hey,” Emma addressed him, “do you think you can handle Henry alone for a while? That way I could go get the cupcakes.”

“Aye, love. No problem. I’ll keep a close eye on him.” Killian solemnly nodded while promising the safety of her son in his hands—well... hand. Emma smiled and brushed her palm along his shoulder in a thankful gesture.

“You’re a hero. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She turned her heads. “Henry, I’m going to get our cupcakes. Behave yourself with Killian, okay?”

Waving, Swan left them alone. She trusted him. Enough to leave her son with him. She had done that before, multiple times even but there was a difference. His office bore fewer risks than an open, public playground especially with a child like Henry. Emma Swan trusted him. The knowledge brought a smile to his lips as he let it sink in.

“Mr. Killian, look!”

A woman walked by. She was older—mid-sixties Killian would presume, her perfectly coiffed dark hair streaked with grey and her tanned skin wrinkled—and was taking her dog out for a walk. It had the cutest set of floppy ears and a grey tail and as soon as Henry saw the dog, he ran towards it in typical Henry-like fashion. There was no stopping this boy.

“Henry, wait!” he yelled, trying to prevent him from attacking the dog and possibly spooking it, but the woman waved her hand to show it was alright.

“You don’t have to worry. Alma is a good girl, she won’t hurt anyone,” she spoke, a different culture coloring and shaping her words.

“Alma?” Henry asked, hands scratching Alma’s back. “That’s pretty.”

“Well, thank you. And what is your name?” The woman slightly kneeled—which was impressive considering the height of her heels—to diminish the distance between her and Henry.

“Henry.” He watched the woman with big eyes, attempting to take everything—the hair, the jewelry, the clothes—before him in. Killian was accustomed to these kinds of people, they were his biggest customers—who else would spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on the books and manuscripts Gold’s Auctioning House had to offer—but he could see that Henry was not. His eyes darted from one place to another, not knowing where to stop.

“Nice to meet you, Henry.” The hand that wasn’t holding Alma’s leash kindly shook Henry’s. “I’m Isabel and this is Alma.”

Alma reacted to her name, enthusiastically barking and startling Henry out of his reverie. His little feet were trampling on the grass in anticipation or longing to run and play with Alma and it seemed like Killian wasn’t the only one that picked up on that, Isabel letting go of her connection with Alma and giving the dog her freedom back. Henry looked at Killian and with a nod, he received the same.

“Mind if I join you?” Isabel asked Killian as he settled on a bench.

“Be my guest,” he said with kindness.

Their heads moved synchronously from left to right as if they were watching a match of tennis instead of the game of fetch Alma and Henry were participating in, both of them running and jumping and making sounds of exhilaration.

“How wonderful children are.” Isabel shook her head in astonishment, her brown eyes sparkling in delightment.

“They truly are,” Killian agreed softly, the same sparkle most likely reflected in his own blue eyes as well.

By the time Swan joined them again, cupcakes stored in a box between her hands, she began laughing at the scene—Henry peppering Alma with butterfly kisses—in front of her and continued to do so when Henry almost tackled her while chanting “Mommy!”

“Hey, kid.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Isabel said when Henry and Emma reached them. Killian rushed to intercept her but it was too late as she called Alma, the animal faithfully followed her order and approached the bench. She stood up, smoothed the fabric of her skirt and smiled at the three of them.

“You have an adorable family,” Isabel complimented.

He blanked, not knowing how to respond to the statement. They weren’t a family, only… well, Killian did not really know what they were. He was her boss, she was his employee, she was Henry’s mom. Nothing more.

“Thanks.” Emma accepted the compliment and smiled back at the woman she had only just met.

“Bye Alma, bye Izzie!”

Killian couldn’t help but send Swan a quizzical look once Isabel had turned her back.

“It's easier just to say thanks than to explain everything to a stranger.” She shrugged.

The sky had begun to turn that orangey-pink, the one that was quintessential to the beginning and the end of a day, without which the feeling of a new start and a content completion would be lost.

After devouring all of the cupcakes, they had played some more and talked some more. Killian couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself face that content completion so he tagged along to extend the day as long as he could. They bought a light dinner, the cupcakes still very present in their stomachs, and ate it too. He would’ve left if he felt unwelcome but the signals Swan was giving him were far from that. She was warm, tried to include him in every conversation, laughed with everything he said. She was making an effort and he didn’t know whether he should be grateful or wondering what had warranted the change. After dinner, Henry had almost collapsed on the grass they were picnicking on, the events of today so exciting and exhausting and all of the running and jumping catching up on him.

Emma watched his little chest inflate and deflate. “I hate it when I have to wake him up when he’s so soundly asleep, but we have to walk all the way home.”

Killian followed the direction of her gaze to the closed eyes of the three-year-old. He looked so peaceful and Killian understood Emma’s hesitance to interrupt that peace.

That was the only reason he made the suggestion to carry him home for her.

“Oh no,” Swan objected. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

“I’m offering, Swan.”

“But…” Her sentence died when he raised his eyebrows, challenging the words that were going to come out of her mouth. “Alright.” Her hands went up “Go ahead.”

It proved to be more of a challenge than he expected, lifting him without waking him and with only one hand to gently maneuver him, but with the very brief assistance of Emma, Henry ended up on a comfortable spot on Killian’s shoulder with only one small sound of displeasure.

The walk was mostly calm, quiet and without any conversation, as they both did not want to wake the slumbering toddler on Killian’s shoulder, but there were moments when he silently watched her and her gaze left the stones of the street to look at them, their eyes meeting. He shyly smiled, directing his eyes to the ground as the tingles ran up and down his arms.

By the time they reached her apartment, the streets had turned dark, streetlights diligently working to provide some sort of light and Emma used that light to find her keys. She let out a triumphant sound as her hand revealed the set and opened the door to grant him access.

Their apartment was small, tiny even in comparison to his average flat, but he could see Swan’s attempts to turn it into a home for her and Henry; the toys that were stacked in a corner, the drawings that adorned the walls, the soft grey that colored the room. She had tried to reach the best result with what she had available. It made Killian think of when he was younger, when he and Liam had to fend for themselves and try to survive in a very big and unfair world. It had been such a struggle but they had managed. So had Swan.

“You can put him in the room on the left.” She pressed the light switch and brought light to the room. Her head motioned towards a closed door as she was taking off her jacket and purse. A bit hesitantly, he followed her instructions, moving Henry to his left arm and grabbing the handle to enter the room. He could make out the vague form of a bed and moved Henry into it. His small feet still had shoes on them—the easy ones with Velcro’s thank god—and Killian quickly removed them and set them next to the bed. Checking if the boy wasn’t waking, Killian let his gaze fall on the bed one last time. He turned and opened the door again, leaving Henry with a final “Goodnight, lad.”

Once he returned to the small living room, there was no sign of Emma, at least until he tread close enough to the couch to be able to peer over it. In it she lay, asleep. Bright yellow socks on her feet, bright yellow hair across her face.

“Swan.” He softly prodded her to try and wake her but it was to no avail.  “Emma,” he whispered, but still no movement. For a second, he remained next to the couch, fiddling with his fingers, before deciding what his next move was going to be. Waking her seemed too drastic, especially if she was tired enough to fall asleep on her couch after mere seconds.Sleeping on her couch, however, couldn't be very comfortable since it seemingly belonged to the lumpy category of couches. Killian was going to make Emma’s rest as pleasant as possible. He searched the tiny apartment and came across a stack of blankets. He removed one, one that had small ships on it, and laid it over Emma's unconscious form.

He checked his surroundings for anything else he could do but nothing came to mind so Killian decided to go home. Before doing so, he reached into his pocket, took out one of his business cards that bore his number and wrote something on the empty white space with the pen that resided in the opposite one.

Thank you for today. -K

--/--

He got a text the next morning from a number neither he, nor his phone, recognized saying: You are very welcome. Henry wants to go to a museum tomorrow, wanna come? -E and promptly saved the number as Swan before answering: I’d love to.

--/--

With Henry’s obsession with pirates, Killian could not not take him and his mother out to the docks for a sail on the small ship he had the honor to call his. She was old and well-used but sailed like she was great a many years younger and was an absolute beauty, in her own, esoteric way. Killian went to pick up Swan and Henry with his car and drove them to where she lay, the spot where he spent so many hours painting and tinkering, where he began and finished all of his trips into the silence and calm.

Thinking back to their very first meeting, he remembered that Henry was somewhat disappointed to hear he was not and had never been a real pirate, but Killian was hoping seeing the Roger would make up for that and if it didn’t, a sail definitely would. Henry was a sailor in his heart and soul, not to forget, even if he was too young to have actually sailed a boat on his own.

“Is this it?” The boy pointed at a random boat swaying in the water.

“No, Henry,” Killian refuted.

“This one?”

“No.”

Impatiently, Henry grunted only to receive a very stern look from Emma’s part ordering him to behave.

“Here we are,” Killian said when they had reached her. With a quick gesture, he introduced them to the location they would be spending the next couple of hours in. “Swan, Henry, this is the Jolly Roger.” He was wishing they would not be disappointed by his humble ship and it seemed his wish was granted as he let out a small gasp as they stood still before her.

“Can we go on it?”

“We can and we will,” Killian chuckled, the relief encompassing him in one swoop.

The weather was perfect, even more perfect than he could have hoped for. The sun was bright and hot in the sky, the wind offering some relief against the rays of light heating their skin. The water lapped slowly, an affable welcome for both Henry and Emma who had not been on the water before. In spite of the good weather, it was calm around the docks and on the water, the side effect of it being Tuesday, but Killian was not complaining, far from it even. If this sail did not turn out to be the best day of this holiday, he would be the sole one to blame and he was going out of his way to avoid that.

Holding out his hand, he led Henry aboard, Swan following on his heels. He could see their efforts to steady themselves on the tilting surface, see the concentration on their faces as they tried to accustom to the peculiar sensation.

“Ready to set sail?” His eyebrow went up with his question.

Swan inhaled, her shoulders rising and eventually dropping as she let the air back out in one go, before nodding and wrapping her arm around Henry. “We are.”

Using the hook prosthetic he always wore while sailing, Killian opened a crate and retrieved two life jackets. Safety above all.

“A life jacket for you, young man,” he said, pulling the bright red contraption over Henry’s head and securing it in the right places. “And one for you, Swan.” Her eyes did not waver from his as his hand touched her neck, her shoulders, her waist. His hand almost trembled with the urge to linger, to caress her pale cheek and her soft curves. It almost trembled as he fought the feeling, painfully aware of where they were and who they were. She wasn’t his to caress and that was where it ended.

“All right,” Killian said, shaking himself out of his haze of self-pity and melancholy, summoning every ounce of excitement he had felt in the previous week, “You two are my first and second mate for today so I’ll need you to follow every order you get from me, understood?”

Henry’s bobbed rapidly as he agreed while Swan replied with a quiet ���Aye, aye, Captain.”

They were eager guests, wanting to help wherever and whenever they could. Killian had to tell Henry on numerous occasions that he was too small for some things and the boy had countered every time that he would be four in less than a month—not that it helped to change Killian’s initial and final decision. Emma was more of a quiet learner, taking in everything he had said and turning it into practice only moments later, a little smile following when she was successful.

After a while, the hard labor of leaving the harbor was over and the Roger was calmly floating in the water, granting them some respite after all of the work they had done. Killian had provided a basket with some food and drinks and went to fetch it below deck. When he returned, Henry was slathering a thick layer of sunscreen all over his mother’s face and arms, Swan giggling along with her son as she, in turn, treated him to a coat of protection against the sun, albeit less chaotic than how her son was rubbing and applying.

“I think Killian needs some sunscreen too, Henry.” Swan smirked as she was well aware what her words would ensue.

Henry approached Killian with greasy hands and plastered them on his face. He threw her a dirty look and she just laughed in response. After their beauty treatments, they all settled on deck and started nibbling on all of the goods Killian had brought. Henry leaned against his mother’s chest while Killian sat across them, the perfect place to watch them enjoy.

The sun hit her skin and she glowed. Her skin, her hair, the gold flecks in her mossy eyes. They all lit up as she smiled. It was in that moment that he realized that she owned his heart. He could not return to his empty existence, lonely and on his own. It was frankly impossible to after her.

She was not his but how he wanted her to be.

--/--

“You already know where he belongs,” Emma told him later that day.

Killian was carrying a sleeping Henry again, a replica of the situation that occurred over a week ago. This time, it was not crossing along the playground but the sail that had completely exhausted him.

“Aye, that I do.” Killian couldn’t stop the warmth from creeping into his voice. He knew where to put Henry because they had been here before, together and somehow he had been granted an opportunity to do it all again. To spend more days with them.

“Sleep well, Henry,” he whispered to the dark room, fully aware that the boy had been sleeping for over half an hour and would not hear him. It was the gesture that counted.

Like last time, Killian went back to the living room but different than that time, Swan was awake on the couch. A quip left his lips before he could think about it.

“I'm surprised you're still awake, Swan,” he teased. “Last time you, very unceremoniously, fell asleep.” His lips formed a smirk as he came closer.

“Haha,” she replied, the sound without any humor. “I have a kid that decided to wake me up at 5:30 am last time.” Swan grimaced. “Luckily, Henry has learned that vacation means sleeping until at least eight.”

She was settled on the couch, jacket and shoes off like last time and a blanket slightly thrown over her legs. Her locks, that she had let loose during the day, were now gathered in a hastily thrown together bun at the top of her head. She was the image of relaxation. And he was awkwardly lingering around her. It was time go home, she was clearly ready to unwind and he did not want to overstay his welcome. As usual, his hand went up to rub his neck as he gathered his courage.

“Well, I'm not going to bother you any further. Good night, Swan.”

Her forehead creased as she tilted her head and rearranged her bun.

“You can stay a bit longer if you want,” she casually proposed. “I was simply planning to watch some Netflix so you definitely wouldn’t bother.”

“Oh… um. Aye, if you’re certain I won’t be a hindrance, it would be my pleasure.”

Swan made room on the couch, inviting him to sit next to her and assuring that he would not be a hindrance. Killian began with taking off his own jacket and shoes, placing them next to hers by the door. After a calming and somewhat heartening inhale and exhale, he finally joined Emma. He chose to sit down as far from her as possible. Of course, he would not have minded to sit slightly closer but he was in her home, was invited by her to watch some television and he did not want to take advantage of that or cross any borders. So, the corner of the couch, it was.

“Any preference?” Her blonde eyebrow went up along with the remote control, explaining her words.

“As long as it isn't anything horror, not a big fan of the genre,” Killian explained, internally cringing after he uttered the words. Way to go.

“I wasn’t planning on anything horror tonight,” she reassured with a wink. “That’s reserved for Halloween and Halloween only .”

Eventually, Swan ended up choosing a light comedy that did not require a lot of paying attention, but was truly funny and entertaining to the both of them. They laughed together over the antics of the characters and, in a moment of distraction, Killian noticed how Emma threw her head back as she laughed freely. It only made his grin grow even more.

Netflix began to count down until the next episode and Swan removed the blanket from her lap and stood up. Killian followed her steps to the fridge and saw her pull two beers out of the cold storage. Swiftly, she removed the caps, the metal clinking against the stone of her counter. The rough material of the couch did not shift as she sat down again, handing him a beer while sipping from the second one. As the title song of the show blasted through the apartment again, Killian noticed how they were suddenly sitting way closer than how they had begun.

“I know I've told you this before—” Killian began as another episode had ended and they both had decided to put a stop to it here. “—but Henry truly is a magnificent lad.”

Their empty beer bottles stood on the floor, their feet were in the couch, sometimes touching and sometimes not.

“You really like him, don't you?” Emma turned to face him with a soft expression. He nodded. “Henry adores you, he cannot shut up about you, so I guess the feeling is mutual.”

Killian already knew this. Henry had been pretty straightforward and open about what he felt, like any other three-year-old. He had even been too open at times. It was his mother Killian was still unsure about. He could read her and could see that she liked their time together but doubt and fear loomed in his mind. Did she reciprocate the feelings he felt—the feelings that had surprised him by appearing but also had been there from the start?

He still didn’t know what they were and even though defining a relationship, a connection, wasn’t always necessary, Killian needed this. To not go mad, to have some sort of footing. And a man at the edge of sanity did bold things.

“What about you, Swan?” he dared to ask, locking his eyes with her green ones. “Do you fancy me?”

He had expected her to frown, to be repulsed by his question, to order him to leave her apartment, but of course Emma Swan surprised him yet again by holding his gaze and smiling.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “What about you, Killian Jones. Do you like me?”

Words are overrated, he thought as he drifted closer to her. Words are overrated, he thought along with yes, yes, yes. I like you. So very much.

Emma caught on to what he was about to do and met him halfway the lumpy couch, her glance moving from his irises to his lips right before they took that leap of being more. It was the biggest cliché mankind had ever known but time stood still when their lips touched. It was weeks and months of build-up, of yearning looks and adoring gazes that lead up to the moment where clocks stopped ticking, the world stopped moving and he was kissing Emma Swan.

--/--

They spent an additional three days together, taking Henry places, doing things, and once Henry’ was asleep, truly enjoying each other’s company. They’d built their own little world, a bubble that was so lovely that he never wanted to leave, never wanted it to pop. But the more time they spent together, the closer the end of the two weeks of vacation got. And even though he only admitted it to himself, in the darkest hour of the night, he was afraid of what was going to happen when they did end. They were in a grey zone, somewhere where he wasn’t her boss, where they didn’t care about other people. They now were more than what they started as but less than stable. Less than stable would not work once they were forced to return to work, get back into the strenuous daily string of events.

He was desperate to hold onto this feeling, to them.

“What happens at the end of this week?” he attempted to keep the worry out of his voice, to uphold some sort of casual air and lightheartedness.

Swan’s feet were lying across his lap while she was scouring the Netflix menu. It was a picture of domesticity and they had gotten to it in under three days.

“We go back to work?” Emma answered innocently, apparently confused by his question.

“With us, Swan.” His attempts proved to fail as he suddenly sounded so very tired. It was the absolute dread that drenched his bones, the nights he spent mulling this over. She was unaware of those as he didn’t want her to know, but it was becoming more difficult to keep it all to himself

Killian felt Emma shift, sensed her feet pull back as she finally turned her head to him and moved into a position that acknowledged the earnestness of their conversation. Folding her legs beneath her, she sat upright with her hand in her lap.

“Oh.” Her eyes slightly widened, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. The serenity left her face as she crinkled her forehead. Her tongue darted out to assuage the dent her teeth were creating.

The fear was taking over, he could see it in the way her breathing accelerated, the way her couch was suddenly not big enough for the both of them. She was preparing herself to lift her walls again, figuratively mixing the cement to glue the stones together. This was what he was afraid of. Killian needed to interfere, or her wall would be blocking his completely bare heart

“Look, Emma.” Without actually moving closer, he attempted to reduce the distance between them. “I really enjoy spending time with you two and I don't want that to stop. I can understand if you’re uncomfortable with me being your boss and the thing,” he said, not knowing what else he could call it, “between us. There are no obligations whatsoever and if you’re feeling queasy about it all, you can just tell me. We can go back to how things were before the holiday, if that’s what you prefer.”

It would be the most difficult thing, return to work as if he had not seen and experienced paradise but it would be something he’d be willing to do for her if it meant her wellbeing.

“Really?”

With a sad smile, he nodded.

Before he could realize, Emma’s lips were on his and her hands were on his jaw. It was a soft peck, over in an instant, over before he could properly kiss her back. She lingered close, foreheads connected and her breath hot against his skin. Her thumbs were simultaneously rubbing circles against the apple of his cheeks as silence fell. He did not want to ruin the moment by asking her anything and she did not feel the need to explain the sudden burst of affection.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” she whispered, an admission into his skin that made his heart thump faster. “It’s going to be weird going back to work, but it would be weirder to not have this—” Her nose brushed against his cheek. “–—anymore. So, I’m completely okay with slowly figuring out what this thing exactly is.” It was a timid statement, a quiet, calculated one but it was all Killian needed. He wasn’t expecting her to make any promises that brought her into a state of panic or anywhere but her comfort zone. Reassurance that he would not have to leave them behind was enough.

Killian kissed her to substitute the words that had disappeared out of his mouth, his hand tangling in her light hair and arm snaking around her waist.  He gave and took, searched and found, was cherished and worshipped.

In the dimmed light of her apartment, they watched each other, their initial plans long forgotten. He could almost feel the veneration, it was almost tangible in the air around them; it lay heavy on his chest and yet, he would not want it gone.

“You have a scar here,” she noticed, drawing her own finger along her skin. It sounded like a report, as if he had not known the cut in his cheek had been there for over twenty-six years.

“I fell when I was two,” he explained, recalling the stories he had heard as his own memory failed to muster the image. “It was a nasty cut. Liam thought I was going to die because there was so much blood.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Killian shook his head.

Silence began to surround them again, almost bringing them back to the place they were before but it did not manage to do so as Emma broke it with a question.

“Liam’s your brother?”

She didn’t know. Killian was on the verge of sighing, but held the whiff of air in. They had so much left to discover about each other, so much of their stories left untold. She had the right to know all of him, but he did not want to burden her.

“Aye, he was.” As usual, the words were accompanied with a sting, “He died a couple of years back.”

Emma crawled closer, burrowing her head under his chin, encircling his chest with her arms, until there was no space left between them, until their breaths and blinks and heartbeats occurred at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” Killian felt her hand brush across his jaw.

“It was a devastating night. Liam wasn’t the only one who died. Milah, my girlfriend back then, died as well.”

His world had been destroyed, he had ceased to exist. How could he exist without the two people whom he loved most, without the only people that loved him? It had been stupid, so stupid. Milah and he were young, went out to party but had both drunk too much and driving home was not an option. Why waste money on a cab when he had a big and worried brother at home who would not mind playing taxi? But that big and worried brother had also just gone to sleep after a double shift and had fallen asleep at the wheel as he was driving them home. Milah died. Liam died. Killian survived. It was a reversed world. How could he live and they not? How was that fair? He wanted to stop living, breathing, existing but in the end, he just stopped taking risks.

There were tears gathering at the rim of Emma’s eyes as she listened, the glitters making her eyes seem bigger, even more innocent.

The ache, the absence that used to be a throbbing all over his body, was now softer, easier to live with. It had taken moving across the globe, starting all over in a town that carried no memories of them, with people who had never known them. But, he was doing better and that was a start.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Killian.”

He was doing better and a lot of that was thanks to her.

“I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is until I met you.”

The tears on the edge of her eyes now fell, Killian instantly reaching out to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. Emma leaned into his touch, closing her eyes while she basked in the feeling.

After a moment of calm, of letting the emotions steady again, she spoke, “So the Swans have finally conquered your heart?”

“You've had it for way longer than you realize.”

The fact that her boss was now also her boyfriend should be weird and awkward but it somehow wasn’t? Belle knew, including a handful of other people too but besides that, they had decided to keep it under wraps. While their relationship was very serious and came to be in a very proper and correct manner, people could think the contrary and start to trumpet false tales and gossip. And seeing that both their jobs were at risk if that were the case, as well as her child she needed to protect, a strictly business relationship on the work floor was as far as they went. And if they sometimes broke their own rules and succumbed under the tension by having a make-out session in his office after hours, Emma would attribute that to Killian’s divine looks.

But he was more than that.

Killian was sweet and funny and cheeky and just thinking of all of his characteristics made Emma break out in a grin and made her heart beat that tad faster; he was a catch and he was completely hers. Well, hers and Henry’s, but mostly hers. Ever since he’d come into her life, it had become so much better. From a better job and more free time, to helping with Henry and to feeling loved by a simple look and a small smile.

Emma couldn’t be more grateful for that one evening where Henry had run away and completely changed their future while doing so.

“Mommy.” Emma’s gaze left the dishes as she turned her head towards Henry, wiping her hands on a towel before walking towards her son. He was settled on the ground, face distorted in concentration as he attempted to build the puzzle Killian had given him for his birthday. “Is Killian my Dad?” he asked once she squatted next to him.

“What?” was Emma’s baffled reaction.

Last time she had heard this question was months ago, on that one night that made her freak out and tear Killian and Henry apart. She’d been so very wrong in doing so, she realized in hindsight, and eventually faith—or you could blame it on her curious child again—had made their paths and stories intertwine anew, this time into an inseparable mess that only became more interwoven.

“Is Killian my Dad?” Henry repeated impatiently. “He does all the things Avery does with his dad with me and he buys me puzzles and he is here all the time and I love him and Killian loves me. He should be my dad,” was his conclusion.

She wanted to freak out about what this meant and what she should reply but she couldn’t. Henry’s simple and matter-of-fact reasoning prevented her to do so. Yes, Killian did all of those things and yes, Killian loved Henry, of that Emma was sure. There had been no shortage of indications that he was all in, completely devoted to the both of them. And yes, the last couple of months Killian had been Henry’s dad, they just hadn’t used that specific term before.

So as the over-rationalizing swarm of thoughts left her brain and Emma could see clear again, Emma asked Henry a very simple question and the answer was going to determine the rest of their lives.

“Well, if that’s the case, you want to ask him if he wants to be your dad?”

There’s an angsty sequel of this fic coming at some point which will be called Trials so if you’re interested in that, keep your eyes open and if you’re not, you can easily pretend this is the actual end if angst is not your cup of tea ♥