#(complete playlist will be linked at the end of the whole week) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Fine Lines

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: modern day au, one-shot

Rating: Explicit

cw: vaginal sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, “princess”, “slut”, somewhat self-conscious reader

Word Count: ~7.0k

Summary: A girl’s night out ends with you crossing some lines with your best friend’s brother.

Notes: Got inspired by this soundgasm I listened to that drove me wild (this is the link, listener discretion advised, put your damn headphones on before you click)! Everyone is in their mid-to-late twenties, for reference. Title inspired by the song “Fine Lines” by Jorja Smith.

Personal Notes: This is shameless smut, not much plot (although I tried). Also, I’m very much obsessed with the pet name “princess” right now, so don’t mind me as I stick it in every fucking fic I write, can’t promise I’ll ever grow tired of it. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

ao3 | my masterlist

It’s Friday night, at last the start of the weekend. Work has been particularly stressful the past few days. New projects, useless meetings, upcoming deadlines; it’s never-ending. In need to let loose after being tightly wound this whole week, you suggest to your best friends, Mikasa and Sasha, for a girl’s night out. Dinner, drinks, dancing, and trashy food to end the night of debauchery. Just what you need to relax.

At Mikasa’s apartment, the three of you gather inside her bedroom, blasting a party hits playlist as you all get ready. Sasha, eating a sandwich for a pre-game snack, sits beside on you on the carpet, the two of you applying your make-up in front of the closet mirror while Mikasa tries on outfits. “Does this look okay?” She presents herself to them in her black, strappy two-piece.

Sasha whistles. “Hot mama!”

You smile, agreeing. “Stunning!”

She blushes, always appreciative of the support. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, there’s aggressive knocking on the door. She opens it to find her brother and roommate, Eren, glaring at her. “Can you lower it? It’s so fucking loud.”

She rolls her eyes, tapping her phone to lower the volume. “Don’t you wear headphones?”

“I was wearing headphones and I still couldn’t hear Jean or Connie because of your fucking music.”

“Alright, alright, I lowered it, okay?”

“Thank you.” He glances over to you and Sasha, watching them argue. You quickly look away to avoid his gaze, staring back at the mirror.

“Where are you three going tonight?” he asks, directing his question to his sister.

“Dinner in Stohess, then dancing at Club Paradis.”

“What’s the occasion?”

From the reflection of the mirror, you see Mikasa point her thumb at you. “Just a girl’s night. She’s been stressed at work and wants to let off some steam.”

Eren looks at you, your back turned to them as you pretend to not be listening. “Well, have fun.”

“What are you up to today?” Mikasa asks.

“Just gaming with Jean and Connie. Armin’s out of town at a work conference, so it’ll be an uneventful weekend.” He pauses before directing his question at you. “So, I’m assuming you’ll get super drunk tonight? Will I need to take care of you again?”

You whip around to face him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, recalling the incident he’s referring to. “Hey, to be fair, your rooms are right next to each other, it was an honest mistake! And I already made up for it, remember?”

A few weeks ago, following another girl’s night, you stumbled into Eren’s room by mistake and made yourself comfortable in bed next to him. And almost threw up on his sheets. Luckily, he caught wind of what was about to happen, and he led you into the bathroom, where he held your hair as you began to vomit the results of your excessive drinking. As thanks, you cooked a delicious dinner for both him and Mikasa the following day, complete with his favorite dessert: brownies. Specifically, you’re signature brownies.

Chuckling, he responds, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just teasing you. Good thing you didn’t actually throw up on my sheets. Then you’d be in real big trouble.” The smirk he gives you sends a flutter bellow your belly.

Mikasa glares at him. “Gross. Stop flirting and get out of here, we’re trying to get ready.”

He obeys, yelling out, “Have fun tonight!” before retreating into his room.

As you finish the rest of your ensemble, your mind is focused on Eren. You’ve known him for nearly ten years now, ever since you and Mikasa became roommates freshman year of college. They weren’t biologically related, Mikasa being adopted into his family from a young age, but they were closer than most blood-related siblings were. The two of them, along with their childhood friend, Armin, were inseparable. And as Mikasa’s best friend outside of this close-knit circle, it was only natural that you became well acquainted with the other two, especially her brother.

It's no secret that he’s always been attractive. You’ve listened to too many rants from Mikasa about all the different girls he was messing around with in college. She criticized him often for dating fine women without ever wanting to commit to them. These tirades began to fade after graduation. It’s been a while since you heard any news about his love life, but you’re always too shy to pry.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about him in a romantic sense. He’s always been kind to you, harboring a soft spot for his sister’s best friend. It’s never been more than that, though. You’re certain that’s the only way he sees you. And it’s not as if you’ve ever made any attempts to flirt with him. There’s an unspeakable boundary that you don’t dare cross, fearing the repercussions. Rejection, potential harm to the relationship you’ve built through the years. It isn’t worth it to jeopardize what you currently have.

Still, there’s no harm in fantasizing about it, as long as no one else knows. Right?

Make-up done, you slip into your little black dress, resulting in another whistle from Sasha. Mikasa twirls you with a smile. “Gorgeous.”

“So what’s the plan tonight, ladies? Shall we play a little game?” Sasha suggests with a devious grin. “Last time, it was drinks. Maybe this time, we’ll do phone numbers?”

“I’m down for that,” Mikasa agrees, adjusting the volume of the music even lower.

“You in?” Sasha looks to you for confirmation.

You shrug. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong?”

It takes a while for you to respond, ashamed to admit it out loud. “I never win these things. I rarely ever get hit on.”

“That’s because you’re too shy! You have to put yourself out there!”

You fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t think that’s it. Maybe I’m too ugly.”

“Stop! We don’t tolerate that kind of talk in this household!” Mikasa yells, sitting next to you.

“I will slap you if you say that again,” Sasha threatens.

“Not only are you two gorgeous, but you are also great at flirting. I’m just going to be sipping my drink alone while all the men flock towards you. But that’s fine! I’m fine. I’m happy to be a wing woman!”

Maybe it’s the stress of the work week putting you in this bizarre self-pitying state. You’re not usually like this. Or maybe you’ve been hiding it all along. It’s not as if you don’t have any experience when it comes to this. You’ve been on your fair share of dates, none of which have ever panned out to anything serious. Ever since you started working at your current job, you’ve been having a bit of a dry spell, too preoccupied with your career to focus on romance. Tonight, the burden of the past few years is finally taking its toll.

With your innermost thoughts already laid bare in front of your friends, you confess, “I just wish I could hook up with a guy tonight. Just sex. No strings attached.”

“Well, if you announce it like that, I guarantee you’ll find a guy who’ll want to fuck you,” Sasha laughs.

Mikasa adds, “Guys are easy. They go dumb if you bat your eyelashes or laugh at their jokes. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is it really? I don’t think I have that power...”

“It’s because you’re too shy! Don’t worry, we’ll find you a man tonight. We’ll make it happen.”

Sasha is the last to get changed, donned in a black dress similar to yours. Before requesting a ride, the three of you move to the kitchen, where you down a few shots of tequila. The burn of the liquor awakens your senses, prepping you for a fun night with your friends and hopefully, a guy to satisfy your sexual needs.

Sasha checks her phone, groaning. “The surcharge is insane right now. It’s going to be this much just to get to Stohess!” She shows her screen, displaying the ridiculous cost.

Hiccupping, Mikasa says, “Ah! I got an idea.”

Stumbling towards Eren’s door, she knocks a few times until he answers, headphones around his neck, an annoyed expression on his face. “What?”

“Can you please give us a ride to dinner? It’s super expensive right now. And it’s only ten minutes away!” She puts her hands together in a prayer pose, pleading with him.

Glaring, he replies, “I’m in the middle of a game right now.”

Sasha joins in on the begging, standing beside Mikasa. “Eren, please! We’ll make it up to you!”

He crosses his arms, expression softening, slightly amused now. “How?”

The two girls stare at each other, thinking harder than usual because of the alcohol taking its effect. “She’ll cook you dinner again!” Mikasa points to you. “She’ll cook you whatever you want!

You step towards them, yelling, “Don’t just volunteer me like that!”

He looks at you with the same smirk as earlier. Even in your almost tipsy state, you feel the familiar sensation in your abdomen.

“I’ll only do it if she bakes me my favorite brownies.”

“She will! She’ll do it!”

He removes his headphones, throwing on a hoodie before turning off the lights to his bedroom. “Alright, you drunks. Let’s go then.”

~~~

The three women follow him to the door, thanking him profusely as they strap on their heels. Inside the car, Mikasa and Sasha claim the backseat, while she rides as passenger. While the two struggle to put on their seatbelts, she stares forward, avoiding Eren’s gaze as he pulls out of the garage. Quiet enough for only her to hear, he murmurs, “I guess you’re my passenger princess for tonight.”

“Huh?”

He smiles at her, but doesn’t repeat himself, turning his attention on the road.

They’ve known each other for a while now, ever since freshman year of college. She was Mikasa’s roommate, and eventually, best friend, aside from Eren and Armin. She’s always had that charming smile on her face, matching her magnetic personality. He never really noticed how alluring her energy was until recently. He’s not sure what changed, but something did. He pays attention to her now.

Today, he overhears them talking on the other side of the wall. Eren didn’t have his headphones in while him, Connie, and Jean took a break from their game.

I just wish I could hook up with a guy tonight.

Just sex.

No strings attached.

These words, coming from her mouth in particular, pique his interest.

It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to her before. He just never really thought of her outside of being Mikasa’s sweet, innocent friend. All he knows is that they’ve been acquainted long enough to know that they get along well. Sometimes really well, sharing similar humor, music tastes, favorite foods. Little details that used to be insignificant, but now, seeing her in a new light, means something more.

He'd be fooling himself if he says he’s never thought about it. Of course he has. The common trope of fucking your sister’s best friend, it’s a story that’s been written countless times in television, literature, even porn. Is it possible that this fictional cliché can become a reality? The idea floats around in his head as he drives them to the restaurant. Sasha and Mikasa are obnoxiously giggling to themselves, looking at their phones. His passenger joins in on their conversation. “What are you two giggling about back there?”

“We’re trying to find potential candidates for you.”

Eren is definitely listening now. He tries not to smile to himself as she exclaims, “What?!”

“We’re checking out all the guys in the area. Oooohhh, what about him?” Sasha turns her screen towards the front, showing a picture of a shirtless man. Literally just a naked torso, no face at all. “I can message him to meet us at the club after dinner!”

“Don’t!”

“Why not? I thought you were trying to fuck tonight!”

“Sasha!” She buries her face in her hands as Mikasa cracks up.

“Oh hey! Maybe Eren knows someone he can set you up with! Got any single friends who are down to fuck?”

Sasha and Mikasa cackle together as she turns to him, expression horrified. “Ignore everything they’re saying, oh my god.”

He teases, “What if I do know someone?”

Mikasa leans forward, now curious. “Who? You better not set her up with Reiner. You know he would eat her up alive.”

“It’s not Reiner.”

“Then who?”

He pulls up to restaurant, still not answering the question. Sasha and Mikasa hastily exit the car, thanking Eren for the ride. She takes a while longer to undue her seatbelt. He takes this opportunity to say, “Good luck tonight.”

Groaning, she mutters, “I can’t believe Sasha. I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Hey, nothing embarrassing about it. We all have needs.”

“Well, if I fail tonight, maybe you can introduce me to that friend of yours one day,” she jokes.

“Sure. I can even introduce you to him tonight.”

She laughs, not fully grasping what he’s trying to say. “Yeah. Right. Anyways, thanks for the ride.”

He watches her exit the car, the hem of her sexy black dress riding up along her thigh as she steps out. Hoping that she does strike out tonight, for his sake.

~~~

Dinner goes by smoothly, the meal delicious as always, drinks flowing freely to continue setting the mood for the night. The three of you linger at the restaurant for a little while, sipping on more cocktails as you digest your food, preparing yourselves for a long night of dancing.

By the time it’s 10:30 PM, you make your way a few blocks down to Club Paradis, a crowd of people already lined up at the door. Luckily for you, Sasha’s friend, Nic, is one of the chef’s at this establishment when it’s a restaurant during the day. The bouncer, who recognizes her, let’s you all in immediately, without issue.

Inside, the DJ has already started their set, EDM music blaring through the speakers. The first thing you do is head to the bar. Mikasa, right off the bat, works her magic and has a guy buy the first round. In turn, she also gets his number, starting the little game.

Sasha manages to charm her way into sharing a table with a trio of men, getting their digits in exchange. Two of them chat with Sasha as the other tries to flirt with Mikasa, leaving you on the side, sipping on your cocktail, as predicted.

When the dancefloor starts filling up and the DJ begins to play the popular club hits, the three of you abandon the table to start dancing. Throughout the night, more men approach your friends, sometimes dancing beside them or attempting to dance with them. Mikasa and Sasha end up rejecting their advances, deserting the phone number game. The three of you dance until your feet are tired, throats sore from singing along, and heads pleasantly dizzy from the buzz of the alcohol. By the time it’s past 1:30 AM, you’ve forgotten about your desire to hook up, too immersed in having a blast with your friends.

Being the least drunk, you request a ride on your app, Mikasa and Sasha both leaning against you, still giggly, but exhausted. The car arrives, the three of you cramming into the back as the driver takes you to the apartment. Sasha whines to you about fast food, reminding her that there is a frozen pizza waiting to be baked at home.

It’s about 2:00 AM now as the three of you shuffle into Mikasa’s apartment. You immediately preheat the oven before following your besties into the bedroom to start the tedious process of turning down for the night.

When you hear the distinct beep from the kitchen, you scurry over to pop the pizza in the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes. You continue to remove the rest of your makeup and by the time you’re done washing your face, comfy in your silky, floral-print pajamas, the pizza is done. Resting it on top of the stove, you walk back into Mikasa’s room to find your two friends passed out on the bed, snoring peacefully. Chuckling to yourself, you turn the lights off and close the door quietly, leaving them to their slumber.

In the kitchen, with the pizza cool enough to touch, you cut yourself a large slice and start eating, leaning against the counter, scrolling through social media with your free hand. The sound of a door creaking open startles you, until you see Eren step out of his bedroom, dressed in a white t-shirt and dark grey sweats. Man-bun in all its glory.

“You’re still up?” you question, mouth full of the bite of pizza you just took.

“Yeah, I just finished playing with Jean and Connie. The smell of pizza lured me out,” he responds, smiling.

“Help yourself. Your sister and Sasha fell asleep, so I won’t be able to finish this on my own.”

He cuts himself a large slice, sliding it onto a paper plate that you put out on the counter prior. The two of you eat in silence, you pretending to be distracted by your phone when really, you’re waiting for him to initiate conversation. When you’re finished with the pizza, you open the fridge, craving something else to eat.

“Are you stealing my snacks?” He’s behind you, closer than he’s ever been before, body pressed ever-so-slightly against you as you inspect the refrigerator.

You lean forward, sticking your ass out just a little bit. For good measure. “I would if you had anything good. All that’s here are Mikasa’s protein bars and a dozen eggs.”

He chuckles, placing his hands on your waist to push you aside. “You just don’t know where to look.” Reaching his arm into one of the compartments, he conjures a pack of vanilla pudding, handing it to you. In the cupboard above the fridge, he grabs a bag of potato chips.

“Ah, so you have your own secret stash.”

“For drunk munchies. Or even when I’m not drunk.”

“Thanks. This is just what I wanted.” You unfold the bag, reaching in for a handful, smiling.

He leans on the counter next to you, munching on his pizza. “So, how was tonight?”

“Very fun. I needed that.” You rip the seal off the pudding cup. Some of it gets on your thumb, to which you instinctually stick in your mouth to suck it off. You realize Eren watches you carefully as you do this. Nervous under his gaze, you release it from your mouth with a slight pop. “It’s been a really stressful week at work, so it was fun to have a girl’s night, not worrying about anything.” When’s the last time you and Eren actually had a conversation one-on-one like this? Has this ever happened?

He grabs a water bottle, twisting the cap off to drink a couple of gulps. When he’s done, he offers it to you. You’ve shared plenty of drinks with Mikasa, but with Eren? This is unexpected. Not wanting to make it weird, you take it, swallowing your fill until you’re properly hydrated, much thirstier than you thought.

He watches you replace the cap, setting the almost empty bottle back down on the counter. It’s odd being observed by him. You don’t remember him ever paying attention to you in this way. Why tonight of all nights? Edgy from the work week, horny and desperate for an easy release. Why is he acting this way now while you’re vulnerable?

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Hm?”

He lowers his voice, leaning in closer to you. “Did you find a guy to fuck?”

This catches you more off guard, the bluntness of it. Maybe it’s the remaining alcohol still flowing through your body, giving you liquid courage to behave out of character. Maybe it’s your desire to feel a warm body beneath you tonight. Maybe it’s the words he uttered to you earlier in the car replaying in your head that you’re just now picking up on.

What if I do know someone?

I can even introduce you to him tonight.

We all have needs.

Whatever it is, it’s driving you to match whatever crass energy he’s giving off. “If I did, would I be here right now? I’d be at his place, fucking his brains out.”

At this, he lets out an amused hum, smiling. That goddamn smile. Charming, attractive. Dangerous. “Being here with me isn’t so bad, right?” His arm is completely pressed against yours now. All this surface on the countertop free to occupy, yet he crowds you in his space.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you can do for me,” you answer, setting the barely eaten pudding cup on the table. You swallow hard, standing up straighter to muster as much confidence as you can.

He moves closer, all six feet of him towering over you. “What do you want from me?”

“You told me you know someone in case I struck out tonight. Who is he?”

“I think you know.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you sure?” It’s like asking for permission to cross the line that you’ve avoided this whole time.

“Yes, absolutely sure,” he confirms, bowing his head down towards you.

You gulp loudly, heart thumping. “Then make the first move.”

~~~

Without hesitation, he closes the gap and kisses her. He starts off soft and slow, acquainting himself to these lips he’s known for almost ten whole years, but never appreciated until now. How foolish he’s been for not getting a taste sooner.

She grasps at his chest, white tee bunched in her fists as she pulls him closer to deepen the kiss. He never knew how forward she can be. She’s always been shy, reserved. This is a new side of her he’s never seen before, and it excites him.

Her lips part, inviting his tongue in to swirl around hers. He slides his hands to her waist, thumbs slipping beneath the silky band of her pajama shorts, feeling for the fabric of her panties.

“Fuck, this is crazy,” he whispers between kisses. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Dragging his bottom lip down with her teeth, she suggests, “Should we go to your room?”

He shakes his head. “Walls are too thin. Let’s go to the couch.”

They stumble into the living room, feet shuffling against the hardwood floor, clothes tugged on here and there, little giggles exchanged between them as they fondle each other on the way to the couch. He sits down first, spreading his legs wide to display the erection outlined in the fabric of his sweats, cocky smirk plastered on his face. Palms patting the inside of his thighs, he beckons, “Come here.”

She takes her place on his lap, straddling him, skimpy boxer shorts bunched at her thighs. They keep kissing, his hands sliding under her shirt towards her chest. To his delight, she’s not wearing a bra. With a gentle pinch on both her nipples, he squeezes at her tits, still in shock that he’s feeling her like this. He starts brushing her hardening nipples with the pads of his thumbs, enjoying the way she pulls away from his lips to throw her head back in pleasure.

“You like having your nipples played with, don’t you?”

Biting her lower lip, she nods, gripping his shoulders like reins to hold herself steady for the ride. He brings her face close to his again, lips grazing her ear as he whispers, “Do you ever think about me? Like this?”

He’s genuinely curious. Now that he thinks about it, there has been an instance or two when she’s appeared in his mind during a late-night quick release. Particularly after seeing her wrapped in only a towel after coming out of the shower whenever she sleeps over. He never thought anything of it, just an innate reaction to seeing a woman almost completely bare. It’s instinct for him to wonder what marvel is hidden underneath if that towel conveniently slipped off. What her naked body, slick and dewy from that steamy shower, would look like in front of him. Or beneath him. Even riding him.

It's only natural to think of his sister’s best friend, of his friend, this way. Right?

Maybe not. Lost in the jumble that is his psyche, he’s definitely thought about it, and not just once, not twice. Many times, he realizes. Somewhere in the middle of all his other depraved fantasies, she’s been there without him even noticing. Until now.

This may be a mistake. It might ruin whatever relationship they’ve developed throughout the years. It doesn’t matter though, because all of those worries fade away as soon as she breathes out the answer to his question. “Yeah, I do. I think about you a lot.”

It’s the go-ahead, the green light. They’ve both stepped over the line now; at this point, it doesn’t even exist. She wants this just as much as he does. Nothing else matters except for the two of them, sitting on this couch, fulfilling each other’s shameless needs.

She hoists her top off, breasts completely exposed for him now, his hands still squeezed firmly around them. He takes one and latches his lips to it, sucking hard until it’s taut in his mouth, listening to her whine in ecstasy. With a loud pop, he releases her, brushing his lips along her plump nipple. “You like having your nipples sucked, huh?”

“Mm-hm. Do that other one.”

He laughs softly. “So demanding. So greedy. I never knew you were like this.”

“I guess the secret’s out,” she says, smiling before kissing him hard on the lips.

He breaks away to play with her other nipple, causing her to moan even louder. With his free hand, he covers her mouth gently, her wet lips puffing warm breath into his palm. Unable to resist temptation, he teases his fingers into her mouth, pleasantly surprised when she sticks them in farther, tongue licking around his digits.

Another loud pop as he let’s go of her tit, cursing. He pumps his fingers in and out of her mouth, coating her spit all over him. “You’re nasty. You’re really fucking nasty. Tell me what you want me to do with these wet fingers.”

Still licking at his hand, she muffles, “Touch me.”

Through the opening of her shorts, he slips past her panties, sliding his fingers along her pussy, slick and creamy with her arousal. His cock is unbelievably hard, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants to take his time with her, familiarize himself with her body, memorize each beautiful crevice he gets to explore tonight. There’s no telling what will happen to them after this. He’s taking this opportunity and making the most out of it in case this never happens again.

Finding her clit, he rubs his middle finger against it, pressing it firm enough to have her trembling above him. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Eren.”

The rasp of his name in that sultry, desperate tone makes his cock twitch. He uses his free hand to start palming his erection through his sweats, thankful that he had the foresight to change into these before he stepped out of his room, knowing it was her out in the kitchen, alone.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just now that he had this revelation. Who is he really kidding? He’s wanted this for a while now. He buried it in the back of his mind because it was too taboo, too forbidden. That just made him yearn for it more. And tonight, it all comes to head. Finally.

“You’re getting so wet for me with just my fingers.” He slides his hand underneath his pants to fist his shaft. “Bet I could make it juicier if I eat you out.”

“Sounds promising,” she smirks, grinding against him. Leaning past his ear, she whispers, “But I want to try something else first.”

His abdomen tightens, anticipating what she has in mind. “What?”

She dismounts him to kneel on the carpet, head positioned between his thighs, staring lustfully at him. “You know what.”

Shifting forward in his seat, he asks, “You want to suck my dick? This fat cock in front of you? Is that what you want?”

“I want to see what all those girls in college were making such a big fuss about.”

He lets out a short laugh, lifting his torso to slide his sweats and boxers off simultaneously, his rigid cock springing free from its confines. “How do you know about my slut era? Did Mikasa tell you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, wrapping her fingers around him, stroking.

He moans quietly, not wanting to reveal how fucking desperate he is for her. “Were you jealous whenever she’d tell you about all the girls I fucked?”

“Maybe,” she repeats, giving him a soft kiss on the tip, small string of precum connected to her lips. He’s stares at her, capturing a mental picture of this for future reference.

“Do you wish I fucked you back then?” His curiosity is getting the best of him.

Shaking her head, she answers, “No. Because now, I get to have you all to myself.” Mouth formed in an oval shape, she sinks down onto his cock, the tip completely engulfed in her warm saliva.

He uses every ounce of willpower not to bust right there. Who is this woman? Where has she been this whole time? And why hasn’t this happened sooner?

“Fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes. “That feels good. Fuck.”

She blows him, her fist working the base as her head bobs along the shaft, movements in sync with each other to stimulate every fiber of his being. It’s been a while since a blowjob has felt this good. Maybe it’s because it’s her. Sweet, innocent, wholesome her. Or so he thought. The fact that his perception of her has been blown out the window, replaced with the side he’s always secretly pined for. This is what does it for him.

He keeps his eyes shut for the most part, the sight of her with hollowed cheeks, milking the fucking life out of him, too lewd to watch. When he does, she looks up at him with a twinkling gaze, enjoying it.

“Fuck,” he moans, a little louder this time.

She slides off him, hand still stroking his cock, slick with spit and precum, index finger to her puffy lips, shushing him, “Be a good boy and keep your voice down.”

Holy fuck. Any morsel of control he has left is quickly withering away. “I’m going to come,” he tells her, rocking his hips in sync with her strokes. In an instant, her lips are latched around him again. He comes in her mouth, some of it spilling down onto his pelvis. She removes her hand to sink lower to the base, swallowing the rest.

There’s a brief moment of silence as he basks in the glory of his orgasm, head lolled against the cushions, mind blank except for the euphoria spreading to the rest of his body. It’s only when he hears her giggle that he is brought to his senses. He lifts his head up to face her, observing the naughty smile formed at her lips.

Grinning, he murmurs, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

She stands up to sit next to him on the couch. “We? Excuse me, but I did all the work.”

Turning towards her, he leans forward to kiss her cheek. “I guess it’s time for me to do my part, then.”

Lying on the couch with Eren on top, he hastily pulls off her pajama bottoms along with her soaked panties, now completely naked. He takes a few seconds to stare at her, admiring how much sweeter it is to see her like this with his own eyes instead of in his imagination.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she waves at him. “You’re making me self-conscious.”

“Self-conscious? About what? This fucking gorgeous body you’ve been hiding from me?” he teases, tracing his fingers along her sides, down to the hips.

“Shut up,” she whispers, turning away. She’s so fucking cute, he can’t stand it.

“No way. I’m not going to stop talking about this beautiful face,” he says, leaning down to scatter kisses all over her cheeks. “Or your soft skin,” more smooches trailing her stomach. “And I definitely won’t shut up about this perfect pussy I’m about to devour.” With that, he spreads her thighs wide to lap his tongue on her clit, hearing her gasp quietly above him, hand covering her mouth.

Delighted by her reaction, he hums against her skin, lips puckered at her bud, toying with her sleek folds. He flattens his tongue and slides it side to side while he slips his middle finger in her.

“Oh fuck!” she cries into her palm. He puts his ring finger in along with his middle, thrusting into her while he eats her out sloppily, drool smearing all over her already sticky arousal. She tastes even better than he imagined, her creamy arousal luscious on his tongue, the lewd smell of sex surrounding his nostrils, priming him to go completely wild on her. It hasn’t been long since his first orgasm, but he feels the blood pulsing into his cock, getting harder and harder the more he indulges in her.

He doesn’t want to fuck her just yet. No, he wants her to gush all over his fucking face, and he knows exactly what to do to put her over the edge.

Pulling away briefly, lips and chin shiny with her arousal, he growls, “Sit on my face.”

“What?”

“Sit on my face,” he repeats.

“Are you sure?” She sits up, uncertainty evident in her expression.

Growing impatient, he guides her on top of him, shimmying across the couch to position himself just right. “Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, hands on her hips, as she mounts his face, her knees surrounding his head. She hovers above him, too timid to do it properly.

He grips her tighter, shoving her pussy into his face, tongue lapping up her leaking juices, swallowing noisily so she knows just how good he’s drinking her up. His hand smooths over her ass cheek, tapping it lightly. He wants so badly to spank her, punish her for hiding this from him all these years. Discipline her for depriving him for so long.

“Ride it,” he demands, loosening his grip, letting her be in control. Without question this time, she does, rocking her hips back and forth against his face, pussy dragging on every inch of it. Dousing him, quenching him, smothering him. She’s whimpering now, lost in the heat of passion, fondling her own tits to feel even more as she grinds on his mouth. He’s tempted to jerk off, but it’ll be too much; it’s already enough for him to come untouched.

In a small voice, she mutters, “Coming.” He sucks on her clit hard until her voice goes a pitch higher, then sticks his tongue into her slit, licking her insides while his nose jams into her sensitive bud.

When she’s down from her high, she’s gently gets off him, a guilty look on her face as she reaches for the box of tissues on the coffee table next to the couch, handing it to him. He sits up, face even shinier with her cum, and refuses. Smiling, he starts collecting her slick off with his fingers, sucking them clean into his mouth.

She shoves him playfully. “Don’t!” she hisses.

He continues to grin, pulling her into a sloppy kiss. “You taste fucking amazing,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against hers. “So yummy.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” she says, smiling. She toys with the hem of his shirt that he’s still wearing. “Do you want to stop? Or…?”

“Oh, we’re definitely not done yet,” he states, hoisting his shirt off.

Her eyes widen at the reveal of his sculpted chest and abdomen, then down at his stiff cock sprung against it. He laughs, catching her ogling him. “You’re going to help me deal with this, right?”

“Yeah. How do you want me to do it?”

“You tell me, princess.”

She grins at this, biting her lip. “I like that. Princess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Pulling her towards him, he whispers, “Show me what else you like.”

~~~

You get into a similar position as earlier, you on top of Eren, straddling his lap as he sits against the couch. This time, however, you’re both completely naked and messier than before, all the evidence from both of your orgasms sticky between your bodies. Lifting up, you align his cock with your wet slit, guiding it in slowly. It’s no surprise that he’s robust. It’s even bigger than you imagined, especially as you sink deeper onto it, his girth stretching you more than his fingers could.

When he’s all the way in, you take a sharp breath, adjusting to his size. He doesn’t rush you; instead, he waits patiently, holding your hips tenderly with his forehead pressed to yours, watching you. You can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of his.

A few moments of this and you ease up on him. You lift off slightly, then sink back down, repeating this until it’s a fluid motion, whimpering when you feel him reach your G-spot. After a few more deep thrusts, you let out a particularly loud moan, resulting in both your hand and his covering your mouth. You giggle quietly with each other.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he laughs, gazing at you.

“That’s because you’re fucking me so good,” you respond, riding him faster. You take his hand and guide it to your arousal, begging him to touch you while you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Fuck, you’re bad. You’re so fucking bad,” he growls, sticking out his thumb to massage your sensitive bud. “What happened to my sweet, innocent girl, huh? Deep down, you’re just a naughty fucking slut, aren’t you? Begging to be fucked tonight.”

His obscene words twist around your core, getting you closer and closer to another climax. “Say more dirty things to me, Eren,” you demand, bouncing on his lap, his thumb strumming your clit ruthlessly.

“Oh fuck, you’re so nasty,” he whispers, panting. “Your cunt is so fucking wet for me, oh my god.” He fucks you, hands tight on your ass, feet rooted into the carpet, couch creaking noisily in the quiet of the living room. But it doesn’t matter because you’re almost there. Just a little bit more.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he spits out, breath hot on your ear. “Acting like a good girl when you’re really just a nasty fucking slut. You know exactly what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you? Tell me.” Sweat beads off your forehead, his eyes animalistic, peering into yours as he rails you.

“You drive me fucking crazy. The way you flaunt yourself in front of me. Teasing me with that innocent smile. You’re just a naughty girl who needs to get fucked.”

“Ah, fuck me, Eren. Fuck me, fuck me! Make me come!” you cry, riding him fast.

“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming,” he groans, holding you tighter in his arms. His warm cum shoots inside you as you orgasm on his twitching cock.

He cradles you gently for a minute before asking, “Did you come? Please tell me you did.”

Nodding weakly, face nestled into his neck, you answer, “I did.”

“Good,” he says, kissing you on your shoulder. “Good.” His arms wrap you in a snug embrace, massaging your back tenderly.

“Do you think they heard us?” you ask.

“I’m pretty sure Mikasa would have come out by now to kick both our asses, so I think we’re good,” he chuckles.

Pulling away to face him, you mutter, “Thank you. For tonight. I really needed this.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, grinning. “Always happy to help. You know that you can come to me for anything, right?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends.” It almost seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He ends it there, still smiling at you.

You lean forward to give him one more kiss on the lips. “We should probably clean up and go to bed before we really do get caught.”

“Right. I’ll see you in the morning?” He phrases it in the form of a question, like he’s unsure.

“Yes, I’ll see you in the morning,” you reassure him, extracting your sticky self from his body.

Without another word, you walk away into the bathroom to clean yourself up and brush your teeth, mind racing with the realization of what just occurred. When you’re done, you exit and find him standing in the kitchen, dressed back in his sweats, waiting for you to use the bathroom. Before you sneak into Mikasa’s room to finally call it a night, you tiptoe towards him and kiss his cheek. “Goodnight.”

He blushes, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “Goodnight, princess.”

~~~

Eren retreats into his room, ready for a good night’s sleep. He checks his phone for the time; almost 3:30 AM. In bed, he rolls to his side to face the wall he shares with his sister’s room, wondering if his special friend is still awake like he is.

Friends. He didn’t think it through before saying it. It was a spur of the moment comment, one made from nerves and anxiety surrounding the aftermath of their actions. Tonight, they crossed a line that most friends do not. What will happen to them now?

He grabs another pillow and hugs it, wishing it was her. Realizing that he doesn’t want to be friends with her at all, but something else. Something more.

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #attack on titan smut #aot smut #eren yeager

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nevernonline · 7 months

Text

✧.* svt vocal unit as the five love languages.

paring/s: svt vocal unit x reader.

warning/s: physical touch

genre/s: fluffy, bf! svt

synopsis: just the vocal unit as your partner and the different ways they show you they care.

jeonghan: giving & receiving gifts.

loves treating you no matter how big or small. dinner? yes. stuffed animals? yes. this man shows up to home or picking you up from work with a little something to gift you every time. would leave little notes with candies or a stem of your favorite flower on your nightstand if you were sound asleep when he had to leave for work. you'd assume all his silly little gift giving would halt when he had to go away for a while, but every week he'd manage to have something special delivered to your door, maybe t-shirts, magnets, a polaroid of him from tour. (I mean he did travel with a baguette for dk.) when it's time for you to give him a birthday or holiday present you go all out creating small notes and memories from all the speical things he's given you, like a chocolate wrapper he left you or dried pressed flower petals.

woozi: acts of service

no matter how hard this man goes at work, the gym, or on stage he always has time to do something you feel like you can't finish without you asking for it. goes above and beyond cleaning your apartment after a spell of you being too overwhelmed in your own life to do so. you haven't had time to cook a homemade meal for yourself in a while and continue to order out? he would insist on getting help from his friends or a YouTube video to sit around in the kitchen and have something comforting on the table for you. carrying AirPods or headphones for you and always knows without fail if you get stressed he can put them in your ears and play a comforting playlist or audible book for you to wind down. actions speak louder than words is your relationship motto, the things he does for you are enough to tell you how much he cares for you despite being busy all the time. and you don't take that for granted either, you'll pick up dinner for him when he's spending late nights recording and writing, wash his sheets so he can come home and rest well.

joshua: quality time

you have his undivided attention always. you can gossip about work, spend hours on the couch watching cute videos or silly tiktoks talking about how funny you find them and he just finds it endearing. upon meeting him even before you got into a relationship you ended up spilling your whole life story to him and he listened. he always has time to put on a movie and discuss as you watch together, smiling and sitting close. he's always by your side. if you're sick he still manages to find a way to be there, maybe by FaceTime or even sitting outside your bedroom door reading you a book. makes you both turn your phones off during your quality time so there's zero distractions and you can just be present together. loves watching the world through your eyes. he spends so much time with you that even without words he knows how you feel. helps you complete tasks through support!! loves every second of being the person glued to your side.

seokmin: physical touch

understands your body language so much!! you're always linking arms, holding hands, touching knees anything to feel the comfort and warmth of him next to you. you maybe weren't or aren't the most physical person with anyone else, but a seokmin hug after a stressful day makes you feel like the hours before didn't matter. you didn't know real love until you met him and automatically clung onto his magnetic nature. even if you're apart you hold his pillow and wear a shirt sprayed with his cologne like he's right there next to you waiting for the time you can feel his heart beat next to your ear while you're resting on his chest. subtle touching is great, but the clingy stuck like glue touch is your favorite, piggy back rides, him throwing you over his shoulder to carry you from room to room. not even showering alone anymore. just being together, annoying everyone with how cute you are. kisses always are a must!! hands, foreheads, cheeks, knees, lips, it doesn't matter you crave it more than anything else.

seungkwan: words of affirmation

definition of "you're doing great sweetie." srry?? never misses a chance to tell you all the little simple things he loves about you, he just loves you so much. talks about you like you're the only person in the world. gives the worlds best pep talks if your down. the first time you heard him say he loves you made you float for a week and when you finally built the courage to say it back he screamed it even louder. he's a wordsmith always finding new ways to tell you that you matter to him like comparing you to a movie character you really love or that you shine brighter than all the stars in the night sky. kind of cheesy, but he's so cute that it doesn't matter. when he's away he makes subtle instagram or weverse posts of words that you know are mean't for you and you only. LONG TEXTS about things he loves about you or appreciates you for. he's really just grateful you exist and you always believe him.

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sayitaliano · 4 months

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Sanremo 2024 - the post!

Hello everyone! Here you’ll find this year’s Sanremo’s stuff and news (I’ll be uploading this post through all the week). The Festival will start on Tuesday February 6th at 8:30 pm (it’ll probably have a 5 minutes “anteprima = preview” every night), and end on Saturday February 10th, when the final will be broadcasted.

/ Official website / you can find loads of videos and interviews here + the latest news. You can already find the presentation videos of the songs made by the artists.

Rai’s website dedicated section (here) | youtube playlist | spotify playlist

TikTok official channel: @/sanremorai; @/sanremoesc Instagram official: @/sanremorai Twitter official: @/SanremoRAI; @/SanremoESC Facebook: festivaldisanremo

Also this year we’ll have the PrimaFestival, the small show broadcasted on Rai1 at around 8:30 p.m. (February 4th - February 10th). The hosts are Paola & Chiara (singers), Mattia Stanga and Daniele Cabras (tiktokers).

There's gonna be some kind of Dopofestival, with Fiorello and Alessia Marcuzzi (tv/radio host) called “Viva Rai2!… Viva Sanremo” (jingle/sigla) right after the end of each Sanremo's night (6th-9th Feb.). Gli Autogol (comedians soccer-related) will complete some missions for Amadeus on Raiplay.

CasaSanremo- A website about Sanremo and all the artists who will take part, with more infos and interviews (also Italian places and food specialties will be shown). Follow them also on their Social Media Channels, usually they make live video/interviews/shows on FB for example.

On Sorrisi&Canzoni you will find also other infos about Sanremo and every lyrics’s explanation (ofc ask me if you need a translation)

The # on this blog is #sanremo 2024, #sanremo, #sanremo2024 you can black any of these (the first one in particular) if you want.

To watch it live:

Raiuno -> just click on the first video on the left, or here, to open the Raiuno streaming immediately (I added the whole Rai channels things in case you had troubles connecting directly and wanted to try from there). The RAI’s geoblock is usually removed for Sanremo’s week, no need to create accounts or whatsoever to enjoy Sanremo online!! Remember you can rewatch the whole event and each performance on Raiplay few minutes after it has happened (and the whole week will be avaiable as well for basically the whole following year).

FESTIVAL LIS - songs and whole exhibition explained in signs language

FANTASANREMO - this year as well you can play while enjoying your Sanremo! How does it work? Every person “buys” 5 artisti and marks one of them as a captain. As in the last years, artists will have to do or say something while on stage to help you gain points (and also classification will have a say).

I’ll try to write down some more infos/links through the week.

——-

Hosts & Guests + Other Stuff

This years’ host will still be Amadeus (who choose the songs taking part into this Sanremo), a TV and radio host. He will be accompanied by a different co-host each night: Marco Mengoni (singer; first night); Giorgia (singer; second night); Teresa Mannino (actress, comedian; third night); Lorella Cuccarini (actress, tv host, dancer, dance teacher in AMICI tv show; fourth night); Fiorello (tv and radio host, comedian, singer; last night).

Some of the one-night guests during the week will be: John Travolta (actor, dancer); Giovanni Allevi (musician); Marco Mengoni (singer); Sabrina Ferilli (actress); Giorgia (singer) will celebrate her song "E poi"'s 30th anniversary; Russel Crowe (actor, singer); Eros Ramazzotti (singer) will celebrate his song "Una terra promessa"'s 40th anniversary; Roberto Bolle (dancer); the cast of "Mameli" (new serie about the guy who wrote our National anthem); Leo Gassman (actor, singer); the cast of "Il Mare fuori" (Raiplay serie); The Nuova Orchestra Santa Balera to celebrate "Romagna Mia"'s 70th anniversary; Gigliola Cinquetti (singer) will celebrate her song "Non ho l'età"'s 60th anniversary.

How it works

There will be 30 singers in the ARTISTI (artists) section. It will be the only section, as last year. 27 artists were chosen by Amadeus, while the other 3 are the winners of Sanremo Giovani (held in December 2023). The winner of the competition will represent Italy at the Eurovision Song Contest: if he/she/they won’t accept, the choice will be another artist, usually the 2nd classified or the next (the first one accepting). This year we're gonna listen to all the 30 songs on the first night. The 2nd and 3rd night, we'll get to listen to 15 songs each night. The artisti that are not performing during the 2nd night will introduce the performing ones and vice versa on the 3rd night. The artisti introducing the performing artisti will be decided by a public draw during the Sanremo's press conferences on the 2nd and 3rd day. On the 4th night, there will be the usual “covers” night: the artisti this year can choose any song, national or international, from any year (until December 2023) and by anyone (even themselves).

Day 1 - co-hosts: Marco Mengoni Prob. guests: Marco Mengoni; Zlatan Ibrahimovic; Federica Brignone; omaggio a Toto Cutugno; Banda dei Carabinieri + on the Costa Cruise: Tedua and in the square: Lazza We’ll listen to all the 30 songs (in order of performance: Clara, Sangiovanni, Fiorella Mannoia, La Sad, Irama, Ghali, Negramaro, annalisa, Mahmood, Diodato, Loredana Bertè, Geolier, Alessandra Amoroso, The Kolors, Angelina Mango, Il Volo, BigMama, Ricchie Poveri, Emma, RengaNek, Mr. Rain, Bnkr44, Gazzelle, Dargen D'Amico, Rose Villain, Santi Francesi, Fred De Palma, Maninni, Alfa, Il Tre). We'll have a first top5 rank (the whole list will be presented only Saturday):

Day 2 - co-hosts: Giorgia Prob. guests: the non-performing 15 artists; Giovanni Allevi; Giorgia; John Travolta; Nuova Orchestra Santa Balera; Leo Gassman; Cast "Mare fuori"; Ruggero del Vecchio + on the Costra Cruise: Bob Sinclair and in the square: Rosa Chemical We'll listen to 15 artisti (artist presenting -> artist singing in order of appearance: ghali -> fred de palma; la sad -> renganek; mr.rain -> alfa; diodato -> dargen d'amico; rose villain -> il volo; bnkr44 -> gazzelle; santi francesi -> emma; alessandra amoroso -> mahmood; il tre -> bigmama; angelina mango -> the kolors; fiorella mannoia -> geolier; sangiovanni -> loredana bertè; mannini -> annalisa; ricchi e poveri -> irama; negramaro -> clara) We’ll have an updated rank:

Day 3 - co-hosts: Teresa Mannino Prob. guests: the non-performing 15 artists; Russel Crowe and his band; Eros Ramazzotti; Sabrina Ferilli; coro Arena di Verona; Gianni Morandi; Stefano Massini e Paolo Jannacci + on the Costa Cruise: Bresh and in the square: Paola & Chiara The 15 artisti that didn't perform yesterday will perform their entry to the contest (artist presenting -> artist singing in order of appearance: loredana bertè -> il tre; alfa -> maninni; fred de palma -> bnkr44; clara -> santi francesi; il volo -> mr rain; gazzelle -> rose villain; dargen d'amico -> alessandra amoroso; bigmama -> ricchi e poveri; irama -> angelina mango; the kolors -> diodato; mahmood -> ghali; emma -> negramaro; annalisa -> fiorella mannoia; renganek -> sangiovanni; geolier -> la sad) Classification after tonight:

Day 4 - co-hosts: Lorella Cuccarini Prob. guests: Cast "Mameli"; principe Alberto di Monaco; Pecco Bagnaia; Elena Sofia Ricci e Margherita Buy; i Jalisse; il maestro Beppe Vessicchio + on the Costa Cruise: Gigi D'Agostino and in the square: Arisa The 30 artists will present a song’s cover, each of them will perform together with a guest or more, unless they're already a band/group and will decide otherwise.

Covers’ list (in order of appearance):

Sangiovanni con Aitana - Medley di "Farfalle" e "Mariposas" (Sangiovanni)

Annalisa con La Rappresentante di Lista e il coro Artemia - "Sweet dreams (Are made of this)" (Eurythmics)

Rose Villain con Gianna Nannini - Medley

Gazzelle con Fulminacci - "Notte prima degli esami" (Antonello Venditti)

The Kolors con Umberto Tozzi - Medley dei successi di Umberto Tozzi

Alfa con Roberto Vecchioni - "Sogna ragazzo sogna" (Roberto Vecchioni)

Bnkr44 con Pino D'Angiò - "Ma quale idea" (Pino D'Angiò)

Irama con Riccardo Cocciante - "Quando finisce un amore" (Riccardo Cocciante)

Fiorella Mannoia con Francesco Gabbani - "Che sia benedetta" (Fiorella Mannoia -Saremo 2017) e "Occidentali's karma" (Francesco Gabbani -Sanremo 2017)

Santi Francesi con Skin - "Hallelujah" (Leonard Cohen)

Ricchi e Poveri con Paola & Chiara - Medley di "Sarà perché ti amo" e "Mamma Maria" (Ricchi e Poveri)

Ghali con Ratchopper - Medley dal titolo "Italiano vero"

Clara con Ivana Spagna e il Coro di voci bianche del Teatro Regio di Torino - "Il cerchio della vita" (Ivana Spagna -Lion King's ST)

Loredana Bertè con Venerus - "Ragazzo mio" (Luigi Tenco con l'arrangiamento di Ivano Fossati)

Geolier con Guè, Luchè e Gigi D'Alessio - Medley dal titolo "Strade"

Angelina Mango con il quartetto d'archi dell'orchestra di Roma - "La rondine" (Mango)

Alessandra Amoroso con i BoomDaBash - Medley

Dargen D'Amico con BabelNova Orchestra - Omaggio a Ennio Morricone: “Modigliani” (sulle note di The Crisis)

Mahmood con i Tenores di Bitti - "Come è profondo il mare" (Lucio Dalla)

Mr.Rain con i Gemelli Diversi - "Mary" (Gemelli Diversi)

Negramaro con Malika Ayane - "La canzone del sole" (Lucio Battisti)

Emma con Bresh - Medley di Tiziano Ferro

Il Volo con Stef Burns - "Who wants to live forever" (Queen)

Diodato con Jack Savoretti - "Amore che vieni, amore che vai" (Fabrizio De André)

La Sad con Donatella Rettore - "Lamette" (Donatella Rettore)

Il Tre con Fabrizio Moro - Medley di Fabrizio Moro

BigMama con Gaia, La Niña e Sissi - "Lady Marmalade" (Labelle)

Maninni con Ermal Meta - "Non mi avete fatto niente" (Ermal Meta, Fabrizio Moro -Saremo 2018)

Fred De Palma con gli Eiffel 65 - Medley degli Eiffel 65

Renga Nek - Medley dei loro successi

Top 5 covers (all the other entries are considered as 6th):

We’ll also have a new general rank.

Day 5 - co-hosts: Fiorello Prob. guests: Roberto Bolle (dancer); Gigliola Cinquetti; Luca Argentero, Claudio Gioè (actors-Màkari 3) + on the Costa Cruise: Tedua and in the square: Tananai All the 30 artisti will perform again their songs (in order of appearance: renganek, bigmama, gazzelle, dargen d'amico, il volo, loredana bertè, negramaro, mahmood, santi francesi, diodato, fiorella mannoia, alessandra amoroso, alfa, irama, ghali, annalisa, angelina mango, geolier, emma, il tre, ricchi e poveri, the kolors, maninni, la sad, mr.rain, fred de palma, sangiovanni, clara, bnkr44, rose villain) and after midnight (prob. more like 1:30-2:30 am.) we’ll know the competition’s first 5 classified and all the special awards winners. The first 5 classified will perform again and get new votes to decide the final standings. The winner will go to the #ESC2024.

And the winner is: Angelina Mango!

Final standing:

Angelina Mango - "La noia"

Geolier - "I p' me tu p' te"

Annalisa - "Sinceramente"

Ghali - "Casa mia"

Irama - "Tu no"

Mahmood - "Tuta gold"

Loredana Bertè - "Pazza"

Il Volo - "Capolavoro"

Alessandra Amoroso - "Fino a qui"

Alfa - "Vai!"

Gazzelle - "Tutto qui"

Il Tre - "Fragili"

Diodato - "Ti muovi"

Emma - "Apnea"

Fiorella Mannoia - "Mariposa"

The Kolors - "Un ragazzo una ragazza"

Mr.Rain - "Due altalene"

Santi Francesi - "L'amore in bocca"

Negramaro - "Ricominciamo tutto"

Dargen D'Amico - "Onda alta"

Ricchi e Poveri - "Ma non tutta la vita"

BigMama - "La rabbia non ti basta"

Rose Villain - "Click boom!"

Clara - "Diamanti grezzi"

Renga Nek - "Pazzo di te"

Maninni - "Spettacolare"

La Sad - "Autodistruttivo"

Bnkr44 - "Governo punk"

Sangiovanni - "Finiscimi"

Fred De Palma - "Il cielo non ci vuole"

ANGELINA MANGO will take part at the ESC 2024! Other Awards: - Premio della critica “Mia Martini” : Loredana Bertè "Pazza" - Premio della sala stampa “Lucio Dalla” : Angelina Mango "La noia" - Premio miglior testo “Sergio Bardotti” : Fiorella Mannoia "Mariposa" - Premio miglior composizione musicale “Giancarlo Bigazzi” : Angelina Mango "La noia"

————————

Artists (+ lyrics):

Alessandra Amoroso - "Fino a qui"

Alfa - "Vai!"

Angelina Mango - "La noia"

Annalisa - "Sinceramente"

BigMama - "La rabbia non ti basta"

Bnkr44 - "Governo Punk"

Clara - "Diamanti grezzi"

Dargen D'Amico - "Onda alta"

Diodato - "Ti muovi"

Emma - "Apnea"

Fiorella Mannoia - "Mariposa"

Fred De Palma - "Il cielo non ci vuole"

Gazzelle - "Tutto qui"

Geolier - "I p' me, tu p' te"

Ghali - "Casa mia"

Il Tre - "Fragili"

Il Volo - "Capolavoro"

Irama - "Tu no"

La Sad - "Autodistruttivo"

Loredana Berté - "Pazza"

Mahmood - "Tuta gold"

Maninni - "Spettacolare"

Mr.Rain - "Due altalene"

Negramaro - "Ricominciamo tutto"

Renga e Nek - "Pazzo di te"

Ricchi e Poveri - "Ma non tutta la vita"

Rose Villain - "Click boom!"

Sangiovanni - "Finiscimi"

Santi Francesi - "L'amore in bocca"

The Kolors - "Un ragazzo una ragazza"

[all the lyrics can be found on this page]

(will edit with more updates, corrections and links as we get closer to the event)

#sanremo #sanremo2024 #sanremo 2024 #it #italiano #italian #langblr #italian language #italian langblr #languages #italian music #italian culture #italian things #italian tv #musica italiana #music #musica #italian stuff #lingua italiana

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nebulousbrainsoup · 9 months

Note

ooh ooh ooh! If it is not too much... can I ask for a headcanon for "Secret Admirer: What would they do as a secret admirer" for a member of ateez? Have a good day hehe <3

(~Sky, on anon <3)

see but if you give me the freedom to pick a member, i'm gonna make us both delulu about it. joong it is.

Kim Hongjoong: Secret Admirer

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: hongjoong x gn!reader TAGS/WARNINGS: none! GENRE: headcanon, fluff/romance RATING: G WORD COUNT: 630 masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

✵ this is like a game to him

✵ he’s passionate, he goes for what he wants and he gets it done, so if he’s being a secret admirer instead of just asking you out, it’s because he wants to have fun with it

✵ he has a signature, right from the start; the same phrase is always somewhere on the packages he sends you, along with a swipe of whatever nail polish is currently on his finger

✵ so you’ll only figure it out if you pay enough attention

✵ whether or not you notice his little detail, you do pay enough attention to notice that the delivery guy is always the same

✵ it doesn’t matter if it’s bakery treats, flowers, a stuffed animal, or a new bottle of perfume/cologne; the same boba eyes and sheepish smile always peek out at you

✵ i think he’d only do this with someone he’s known for a while bc he’d need to know all of your favorites. he isn’t going to halfass this and be basic about it

✵ although, if he doesn’t know you well enough to know your favorite flower, the victorian flower language will always come to his rescue

✵ truly don’t think you ever receive a rose from this man unless he’s handing it to you himself

✵ the first bouquet he sends you is an arrangement of pink, red and white carnations (representing fascination) and baby’s breath (innocence). the white (pure love/faithfulness) and pink (i’ll never forget you) dominate the spread, with a maximum of three red carnations to hint at his own passionate nature.

✵ he’ll also send you gardenias (secret love) if he catches wind of you being particularly frustrated with his games, just to tease you

✵ he also starts growing pansies (thoughtfulness) so if you’re having a rough week he can just drop by your desk/home/workplace and leave it for you with your favorite sweets

✵ morning glories (love in vain/affection) for if he’s feeling particularly dramatic and scorned

✵ it all seems random to you, but the amount of work this man is putting in behind the scenes is actually insane

✵ forget the lore binder, he has a you binder

✵ he’s ordering things weeks in advance, talking you out of buying things he’s already bought you, etc

✵ at one point the next book in a series you’ve been reading shows up the day after you’ve finished its prequel and you’re mildly concerned

✵ it’s 4d chess in this man’s brain trying to win you over

✵ if/when you finally start to figure it out, he’s completely oblivious

✵ seonghwa has to tell him, bc you cornered the poor man after the latest delivery and asked him outright if your admirer was hongjoong

✵ he didn’t know what to say and scurried off without a word, so you knew

✵ he does freak out about it a little bit, bc he got a little too caught up in the game and forgot there was, in fact, a goal

✵ a few days later, seonghwa delivers you a handwritten note with the first word of his signature phrase on it to you and the first clue to a city-wide scavenger hunt

✵ at the second to last stop, you get the link to a playlist of songs that remind him of you

✵ by the end, hwa’s laden with bags from the gifts hongjoong never got to give you

✵ and once you get there, hongjoong is waiting for you at your favorite shop/cafe/park with your beverage and sweet of choice in front of him, a blue hyacinth (constancy) and a red rose in hand

✵ he had a whole speech planned but he’s too overwhelmed and just grinning, so all he gets out before you’re wrapping him up in your arms is

✵ “i hope you’re not disappointed”

TAGLISTS: permanent [open]: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict ateez [open]: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona

banners again from @cafekitsune

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boqvistsbabe · 2 months

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Update!!!!!!!!

Hey Y’all!!

Here is the start of hopefully monthly updates. I know in my last update I said I was going to be more consistently here and active. Obviously, that didn’t happen lol. Trying to hold myself to that rn. So this is probably going to be the format for all of my update posts, just so they are easier to follow.

Refresh:

So I am almost completely done with the blog refresh. I think all that is left is updating links and getting some other posts (ex: theme days) made/redone. Most of that got put on the back burner due to how long they were going to take lol. But hopefully, over Spring Break, I’ll be able to get those done (no promises, another thing I’m trying to do, is be more realistic about what I want to get done by when so).

Writing/Other Content:

Ik I said I’d write more. Once again didn’t really happen. Well, I have written a decent bit, but never finished anything. There is one fic that I am going to try and work on after this week (midterms lol) and have someone look over it (the first time I’ve had a beta reader, look at me go lol). Like the blog as a whole, I am trying to organize my writing, like requests and my ideas and what is going out when etc. (@ any of the other writers if you have any suggestions of what to/where to organize my stuff so it doesn’t get all confusing and mixed up you should def let me know). Speaking of requests, I am going to try and do at least two requests a month. That doesn’t sound like a lot but for me, that feels like something I can realistically do. I will be doing old requests first because even though they are years old at this point, I liked the ideas so I genuinely want to write them. I am still going to be accepting new requests (esp because sometimes that helps spark creativity/help with writer’s block so feel free to send in any ideas!!) but I will try to get those older ones done first. As for any other content (playlists, moodboards, IG edits, drawings, etc.) I am also taking requests for those so feel free to send in any of those requests too.

Another Blog?!

As of rn the second hockey blog has not been “released”. I want to catch up on things for this blog before I throw that into the mix and try to grow that as well. I am hoping to add that sometime this summer. Also, I do technically have a sideblog already (@samistheman) which is normally where I reblog random things, and I don’t really have tags for that blog I just kinda willy-nilly reblog there (it used to be mostly PJO stuff but now that’s kind of here because of how much of it there is lol).

Life Update:

College is a lot rn. I’m doing 17 credit hours and tbh do not know what possessed me to do that. At first, I was doing pretty good, but now not so much. Like I said earlier I have midterms this week. If y’all didn’t know this, I’m shit at taking tests so not doing great rn. Thankfully one of my classes ends on Sunday so at least I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life recently that is impacting a lot so trying to navigate that as well. I am moving out in May, which is yes months from now but there is still a lot that I need to do beforehand. Anyway, I’m going to a college hockey game on Thursday and I am super excited. I haven’t been able to go to a game since October. Also little fun update, I’m going on a weekend (work) trip to Boston. Super excited for that. I’ll be getting to go to a Celtics game and a Red Sox game (I’m a Royals girlie tho). I’ve never been to an NBA game so that’s for sure gonna be really cool. I’ve been to many MLB games before but this will be my first at a different stadium. Anyway, I think that is it for this update. Hope y’all are doing well!!

As usual, if y’all ever want to talk dms/inbox are open <3

I am going to tag some moots, I am totally forgetting some people so I am sorry for that (if y'all could reblog that would be amazing)

@2manytabsopen @krugstrash @jimmystrudel @andreburakozy @sidneycrosbyhoe @fallinallincurls @timstuetzle @typical-simplelove @ilyasorokinn @drei-mrssvechii

#blog things

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toxic-ship-tournament · 1 year

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ROUND 1 / SIDE B / POLL 8

Amaro x Calamari ( @hottopicabbacchio & @corpsoir ) vs Iphi, the goddess of sacrifice x Jack Sinclair ( @kira-the-whump-enthusiast )

who makes up your ship?:

amaro (he/him, by hottopicabbacchio) calamari (he/they, by corpsoir)

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Amaro used his stand (make you fall in love) on a lot of people, Calamari came around and he used his stand on them for one night too, but Calamari kept coming back after the effect wore off so Amaro continued to use his stand for a bit being afraid of him leaving/because he thought it would be fun. Eventually, Amaro realized that he had stopped using his stand on Calamari and actually fell in love with them. They have a good 3 year run where they're together and fine and in love UNTIL. one day going on a job for information (mafia business), Amaro is talking/flirting some of the information out of the guy theyre after and Calamari over hears some guys talking about how "Amaro is after another one" and how they had been affected by his stand power before. It gets Calamari thinking if Amaro had used his stand on them before (yes, but only at the beginning) and they start thinking that the whole relationship had been a lie. They get in a big argument - Calamari confronting Amaro while Amaro desperately tried to prove to Calamari he hadn't been using his stand for years - and they end up breaking up. After about a month, Amaro gets worried about not seeing Calamari around and goes to their apartment that he still haa the spare key too and goes inside to find him. Instead, he finds a mess and Calamari eating cold pizza in an empty bathtub alone. Calamari half agrees for Amaro to stay and help them clean, which they assume and know thats the only reason they would have come, and doesnt believe Amaro about their relationship no matter what he tries to say. Over time - a cleaning session maybe once a week or so with Calamari making as little talk to Amaro as possible and Amaro just wanting to make things right again - Calamari suddenly realizes that he might be falling in love with Amaro again and confronts him about using his stand again and tells him to show her to them. Amaro had made a vow to himself to not use his stand around Calamari ever again, but caves and shows Calamari that the swords (where his stand power is) are all still there. Currently, they are working on getting back to how they were before, but there is still Issues and Problems <3 They both want it back but Calamari still cant trust Amaro but Amaro had never been in love with someone like that before

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4AcBeDHX48BYcmdda13KNL?si=fkg9IR4NT5Klw4bUt-0QoQ&utm_source=copy-link playlist by hottopicabbacchio, character tags on both op blogs under amaro avvoltoio and calamari pavone

****

who makes up your ship?:

Iphi, the goddess of sacrifice, and Jack Sinclair, her loyal servant

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Iphi is a machine of a goddess, and thousands of years ago she decided that she needed a little help. So she found Jack Sinclair, and they talked and eventually Jack fell in (non romantic) love with Iphi. And then Iphi manipulated them into giving up their physical body and independence to be with her for eternity! Iphi quite literally has completely control over Jack's mind. They've lived for thousands of years, but they haven't actually been conscious for the vast majority of it because Iphi literally keeps them in a state of subdued consciousness when she doesn't need them for anything. When she has a mission she'd like Jack to carry out, that's when they're given control of their mind back. And yet they're still bound to her orders, and well, she's a goddess. She's always watching. And Jack sees nothing wrong with this! Because they love her so much. They would do everything for her, let the world crumble if it would make her even the smallest bit happy. Jack is willing to and has killed and tortured for their love. Their personality has been,,, tampered with, somewhat. Iphi made sure to exacerbate the love they felt to the point of total obsession and undeding devotion. They'd do anything and everything for her. They don't know that she made them that way. Iphi has gotten her perfect servant, and Jack can't be anything but happy to be that.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

I have like two songs. Your Body, My Temple by Will Wood and Haunt, The Cartoon Heart by Bear Ghost. Mostly from Jack's perspective.

#hottopicabbchio #corpsoir #kira-the-whump-enthusiast #amaro x calamari #iphi the goddess of sacrifice x jack sinclair #toxic ship tournament

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alexandralyman · 1 year

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New Fic: Not Another Hallmark Movie

Hi Everyone! Coming off my long fic hiatus with a Captain Swan holiday story. I hope everyone has a very safe and happy Christmas after everything that’s happened in the past few years.

Not Another Hallmark Movie

The little fishing village of Storybrooke Maine was just like those quirky small towns you'd see in one of the Hallmark Channel's never-ending lineup of Christmas movies, so it was no surprise when it was chosen as the filming location for one of them to the delight of everyone in town.

Almost everyone.

Deputy Sheriff Emma Swan was less than thrilled to have Christmas come early in the form of a cast and crew that it was her responsibility to wrangle all over town, the prickly Scottish location manager Merida, seven surly Teamsters, the pretentious assistant director Arthur, and the two leads, former teen star Christina Bell and her love interest, up and coming English actor Killian Jones.

Well, maybe Killian wasn't so bad.

With Storybrooke fully decked out for the holidays several months early, a star-struck son, a totally not jealous brother, and Christmas music blasting everywhere she went, all Emma wanted was for the movie to finish and life in town to go back to normal.

(though a bit of flirting with the handsome lead actor certainly helped to fill the time until then)

AO3 Link / FF.net Link

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma gave a nonplussed stare to the teenage barista on the other side of the counter, who was holding out the coffee she’d ordered in a festive red and green paper up instead of the normal white one.

“Seriously?” she replied, one eyebrow raised.

The barista gave a cheery smile that it was far, far, too early for.

“We’re getting into the spirit! We should be getting a delivery later today with gingerbread syrup and pumpkin spice to make holiday lattes.”

“Great,” Emma muttered, taking the coffee and taking in the silver and gold tinsel strung up along the menu boards and the snowman cookies in the pastry case that she hadn’t noticed at uncaffeinated first glance. When she went outside the Storybrooke Bean & Brew it was more of the same, wreaths on doors, snowflake decorations in the storefronts, lights and bells and it was clear the whole damn town had gone completely Christmas crazy practically overnight. Which would be fine...if it was December, or even November.

It wasn’t.

It was August.

August, the middle of summer, when the chalkboard sidewalk sign in front of the Bean & Brew should have a sun and a beach umbrella drawn on it to advertise iced coffee, not a candy cane stuck in a mug of hot chocolate. The temperature was supposed to hit the high eighties today, for fuck’s sake.

No, Storybrooke hadn’t succumbed to the phenomenon known as “Christmas creep” when stores put out their holiday merch earlier and earlier each year so that artificial trees were on sale next to barbecues and gingerbread men shared shelves with Halloween candy. The little heritage town in Maine that looked like it had been designed by Currier & Ives themselves had been chosen by the Hallmark channel as the filming location for one of their insipid Christmas movies, where toothy, pretty people met, fell in love, and had their happy ending in an hour and a half against a picture perfect backdrop of evergreen trees and twinkling lights. A Holiday Romance, Jingle Bell Ball, New Love for Noel, Tis the Season, they aired them non-stop over the holidays and Emma never really gave much thought to where all those movies actually came from, until a fleet of trucks full of expensive-looking equipment had arrived a week ago.

They’d transformed Main Street into a faux winter wonderland within hours of unloading, and it seemed the townspeople were just as eager to get into character as well. Granny’s Diner was serving a turkey dinner special with stuffing and cranberry sauce, the local radio station had switched over from their usual playlist of songs that had been hits sometime in the 80s to nothing but Christmas music 24/7, and the coffee shop closest to the sheriff’s station was apparently now serving Emma’s morning caffeine fix in the cups printed with holly and ivy they normally didn’t pull out until it was closer to Thanksgiving than the Fourth of July.

It. Was. August.

And on top of having to listen to Bing Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas or Josh Groban calling to all ye faithful every time she got into her cruiser, Emma, in her capacity as Storybrooke’s deputy sheriff, had been tasked by the mayor herself, Regina Mills, to be the official town liaison to the movie people. Madame Mayor was adamant that they feel as welcome as possible, hoping to market Storybrooke as a filming locale to any Hollywood production that wanted small town charm and little red tape. All the permits they applied for had been approved without question, so Emma spent her days dealing with road closures and directing traffic around the sets, working long hours with the location manager, a no nonsense Scot named Merida, or with the assistant director, a jackass named Arthur who clearly viewed Storybrooke as nothing more than a backwater hick town that was stuck in time.

Which it was, but still. Rude.

As unenthused as Emma was having to deal with a woman whose accent she barely understood at times and a wannabe Martin Scorsese, her son Henry was just as excited about the movie coming to town. While not exactly in the Hallmark channel’s target demographic, Henry loved Christmas, loved movies, and loved the chance to actually see one being filmed in his own backyard. The fact that it was a cheesy TV movie aimed at women aged twenty-five to forty who drank wine and dreamed of their own hunky yet tender lumberjack love interest and not ten year old boys who were obsessed with Marvel and Star Wars didn’t matter, Henry had proclaimed to anyone who’d listen that it was the best thing to happen to Storybrooke in the history of ever. Since the last major event that Storybrooke had seen was a bad storm that washed a full container of live lobsters off one of the ships down at the docks and scattered them halfway to the town line, he did have a point.

Storybrooke was a fishing village in Maine. There were a lot of lobsters in that container.

A lot.

Emma had listened with half an ear while Henry spouted off every bit of information he could find online about A Midnight Clear, the title of the movie, scouring IMDB, Wikipedia, and the Hallmark channel’s social media accounts. Since Emma didn’t let him have his own Twitter or Instagram account yet, he’d followed anything remotely relevant from hers so he could keep tabs on them all. He was even more excited when he discovered the male lead in the movie was British actor Killian Jones. While he wasn’t exactly world-famous, with one of those fancy BBC costume dramas and some London theater work under his belt, Jones had guest-starred in a two-part episode of Doctor Who, making him, in Henry’s opinion, hands down the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. An opinion he freely shared with everyone from Granny Lucas during lunch at the diner to the mailman when he dropped off the water bill.

David was visibly annoyed by it, which amused both Emma and his wife Mary Margaret to no end.

“I’m cool,” he’d protested, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair with a pout.

“Yes dear,” Mary Margaret deadpanned, patting him on the shoulder.

“I taught Henry how to ride a horse. Could Killian Jones do that?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “He’s English, isn’t riding a big thing there? Besides, he’s been inside the TARDIS, and sorry David, but that’s pretty hard for any of us to top.”

David threw his hands in the air. “It’s a TV show! The TARDIS is a prop, it’s not like the guy has actually been to space or traveled in time.”

Henry had come back in from the yard with dog and immediately started in again on the movie and how cool it was that someone like Killian Jones was visiting their town, brightly asking, “isn’t it the coolest thing ever, Uncle David?” and making David grumble to himself all through Sunday dinner while Emma and Mary Margaret trader knowing looks across the table at his sulking and Henry’s obliviousness to it. Emma and Henry had moved to Storybrooke because of David, her adoptive brother, and lived with him and Mary Margaret and their golden retriever Fandral on their farm at first until Emma got them their own place. Small town life had been a huge adjustment, at least for Emma. Henry had the ability to fit in wherever he went.

Big city girl with a cute, precocious kid moves to a picturesque small town and falls in love with a rugged lumberjack who looks like he stepped out of a paper towel commercial and proposes under the mistletoe before the credits rolled. Wasn’t that the plot of most of those made for TV Christmas movies? Although in Storybrooke it would probably be a lobster fisherman instead, and Emma’s life wasn’t a movie.

Plus, after the whole lobster incident, she really, really, didn’t want to see one ever again even if it was brought to her on a silver platter by Chris Evans in nothing but his Knives Out sweater.

Emma parked her Bug in the station lot after her stop at the Bean & Brew and went inside to both check in with Graham Humbert, town sheriff, and grab a bear claw from the ever present box of donuts he kept on his desk. More for the bear claw. Normally, she’d eat it at her own desk while going over the morning paperwork and seeing if there’d been any breaks in her one and only open case, the ongoing crank calls to Mr. Gold, pawnbroker and shoo-in favorite if Storybrooke ever needed to vote in an official town Scrooge. Not exactly something they needed to call in the FBI to consult on. But with the movie scheduled to spend all day filming at not one, but two different locations, Emma had to head out again immediately in one of the cruisers, so she brought the bear claw with her and slid behind the wheel, putting her coffee in the cupholder and turning the key in the ignition with one hand while she took a bite with the other.

Mariah Carey came blasting out of the stereo and Emma nearly choked, coughing and sputtering around her mouthful of pastry.

“Oh come on, it’s August,” she muttered, fumbling for the volume control. “Ugh!”

Once she got it down to a level that wouldn’t make her ears bleed, she pulled out and headed towards Storybrooke Town Hall. The trucks were already there when she arrived, cables snaking up and down the street and a sign with the name of the movie’s fictional town in place on the building’s facade. Several locals were watching eagerly from behind the barricades that Emma bypassed, badge on her hip and tossing back the last of her coffee as she went.

“How’s it going?”

She directed the question to Merida, whose cloud of red hair made her easy to find among the mostly male crew. The location manager had a clipboard in one hand, a walkie talkie in the other, a headset perched messily in her curls, and an expression that was the opposite of holly jolly.

“How’s it going? Well, I’ve got seven Teamsters who are all on their union mandated break at the same bloody time, the call sheet had the locations for today backwards so my two lead actors are currently at the wrong sets, which is absolutely grand, and to top it off the snow machine is on the fritz again so we’ve got no snow for our fecking Christmas movie. So that’s how it’s going.”

Emma understood about half of that, and it wasn’t just because Merida’s accent got as thick as oatmeal the more she talked. Henry was the movie expert, not her. Still, she made a sympathetic face, since it was clear things weren’t going particularly well.

“Bummer,” she offered, which made Merida let out a very Scottish sounding harrumph.

“You can say that again.”

The walkie talkie in her hand crackled to life in a burst of static and she started talking to whoever was on the other end.

“You got an ETA on Bell yet? Well, why not? I don’t care what the call sheet says, she’s supposed to be at the town hall, not the park!”

Emma assumed she was referring to the lead actress in the movie, Christina Bell. She’d met her briefly on the first day of filming, a tiny blonde pixie of a woman who Emma vaguely remembered from some soapy teen drama show that had been popular when Henry was a toddler. She hadn’t had much time for TV back then, and her own teenage drama was still too fresh for her to really be into the fictional kind, so she wasn’t nearly as starstruck as Mary Margaret and Ruby Lucas were when they came by to watch some of the shoot.

“Merida love, If you’d just give me the keys to one of the cars I can drive myself.”

“No,” Merida answered without looking up from her clipboard at the man who’d come over to join them. In contrast to the members of the crew in their jeans and black T-shirts, he was dressed in a three-piece suit that he had to be absolutely sweltering in, his dark hair was slicked back from his face and he had an accent that was tea and crumpets to Merida’s malt whiskey.

It was Killian Jones, the male lead and officially the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. According to Henry, that is.

“But-“

“I said no, Jones. You’re not covered by the insurance and Arthur will have my arse in a sling if I let you. Or he’ll try to, at least, and I don’t fancy having to explain to the network exactly how their AD got a black eye. You just have to wait until Leroy finishes his break and then he’ll drive you over.”

Regina Mills had been adamant that Emma was to make everything as smooth as possible for the movie people, and if she’d learned one thing about Storybrooke, it was Regina’s town and the rest of them were just living in it. Normally it was beyond annoying, but, what Madame Mayor wanted, she would get in this case.

“I could drive you if it’s that urgent,” Emma offered. “Emma Swan, deputy sheriff. You’ll be safe with me.”

Both of them turned to look at her and she saw Killian’s blue eyes dart down to where she was oh so casually resting a hand next to her badge and then back up to her face.

“A police escort? Well, I suddenly feel very important,” he joked, with an easy smile that could only be described as movie-star handsome. Not that Emma planned on describing his smile to anyone. “Killian Jones, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Officer Swan. Oh, sorry, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“Emma is fine. Nice to meet you.”

She shook the hand he held out and smiled back. A few weeks ago she would have scoffed at the idea of playing chauffeur for some spoiled actor, she hadn’t gone back to college to get her criminal justice degree when Henry was old enough for kindergarten just to end up a glorified Uber, but the guy was cute and it beat standing around pretending to watch the crew fiddle with lights and cables in case Regina was in her office and decided to pop out and check that Emma was doing her civic duty.

“Brilliant,” Merida said, scribbling something on her clipboard. “He needs to be at the park, they’re filming at that bench we scouted last Wednesday. Thanks so much, Emma, you’re a lifesaver, in that you just saved Arthur’s life, since this was his cock-up and I was going to kill him.”

Emma knew the bench Merida was talking about, it was a favorite place of hers when she needed a quiet place to think. She nodded and pulled out her car keys, gesturing towards where she’d left the cruiser. “The Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department is always happy to assist. This way.”

Michael Buble informed them that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas when she turned the key and the radio came to life again. Emma swore under her breath, the volume control was obviously broken.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

He said it with an amused laugh and she felt her cheeks flush hotter than the eighty degree forecast. “Yeah, well, it’s the local station. We always keep the radio on them in case someone calls them instead of us, and they’ve been playing Christmas music in honor of you guys filming here even though it’s August.”

She glanced over at his not very seasonal attire and turned the air conditioning up, letting a rush of cold air wash over them both. At least that was working fine.

“You have a very charming little town here, Sheriff Swan. I grew up in a village by the sea like Storybrooke back in England before I moved to London, it reminds me of home.”

Emma had spent nearly an hour the other day listening to Arthur, assistant director and grade A asshole, bitch about the lack of a Starbucks and a decent place to get Thai food in Storybrooke when she’d had to work with him on the logistics of shutting down Main Street in the middle of the day so they could film a scene, as he oh so condescendingly put it, “before the light changes, Emma, you see, we have this thing in filmmaking called continuity.” At least Killian Jones had some freaking manners to go along with his good looks and sexy accent.

Nope. Don’t go there, Emma, don’t even think about it. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled. Lame, Emma.

The park wasn’t that far away, but she couldn’t take the fastest route thanks to the trucks blocking the streets around Town Hall and had to go the long way instead. With the volume turned down on the radio it was quiet in the car and she could sense him watching her from the passenger seat while she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the road. She was the deputy sheriff, she had to set a good example to visitors about safe driving habits.

Or something.

The long way involved driving past Henry’s school, it was closed for the summer, of course, since it was freaking August, but the message on the signboard out front had been changed from, “See You in September!” to “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” because of course someone had done that. Still, she smiled to herself at the reminder of her son. Henry went to day camp during the week with his friend Paige, coming home every night eager to hear everything that was going on with the movie shoot and Emma had definitely earned some cool points in Henry’s eyes for getting to work with the cast and crew. He was going to freak when she told him she’d finally met Killian Jones.

“Did you grow up here?”

It took Emma a second to realize Killian had asked her a question. “What? Oh, no, I didn’t, actually. We only moved to Storybrooke about two years ago.”

“Ah,” he said, voice seeming to go a bit flat. “Well, I can see why you and your husband decided to relocate. It’s lovely.”

She snorted, trying to imagine Neal in Storybrooke. He’d think it was ridiculous, twee and old-fashioned, and he’d probably also complain that there was no Starbucks or Thai food within an hour’s drive of the town.

Not for the first time, she wondered if part of the appeal of Storybrooke was just how much her ex would hate it.

“Nope, no husband. My son and I moved here from Boston, my brother David and his wife have a farm just outside of town. He heard about the job opening in the sheriff’s department and told me about it, and the rest is history.”

Her long overdue breakup with Neal had come on the heels of finally finishing her degree thanks to night school and loans she wouldn’t pay off before Henry went to college, after dropping out on the first go round when she’d had a baby at twenty. Emma knew their relationship only lasted as long as it did because of their son and even though they kept half-heartedly planning to get married, it never did happen. David also wasn’t her actual brother, his mother, Ruth Nolan, had been Emma’s final foster parent before she aged out of the system and the Nolans became the closest thing she had to family.

Not that she was going to share her entire life story with a complete stranger, of course. Even a handsome one with bright blue eyes the color of the ocean just beyond Storybrooke’s harbor.

“You have a son?” he asked, “How old is he?”

He was a good enough actor that he actually sounded interested, even though most guys noped right out of the conversation when they found out she had a kid.

“Henry’s ten, and according to him the movie is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to this town.” she said, and glanced over at him to add, “He’s also a huge Doctor Who fan, by the way.”

Killian’s whole face lit up at that, clearly pleased. “I’ve been a Doctor Who fan since I was ten, so getting that part was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. You should bring Henry to the set next time, I’d be happy to give him a look at what goes on behind the scenes.”

“You would really do that?”

Emma realized with a start that they were parked and she was twisted in her seat to fully face him. When had they arrived at their destination and why hadn’t she noticed anything except the fact that, up close, Killian Jones had just about the bluest eyes she’d ever seen?

And not only that, he was looking right back at her.

“Of course I would.”

He said it like there was no question that he’d want to entertain an overly excited ten year old boy he didn’t know when he could be…practicing his lines or taking selfies for Instagram or whatever it was actors did when they had downtime on set.

It was a knock at the window that made them both look up and Emma had a very vivid flashback to being sixteen and getting caught parked in a car with a cute boy after sneaking out past curfew. That little stunt had gotten her kicked out of the group home she’d been living in at the time (safe haven for all, her ass) and even though she’d ended up at the Nolans as her next placement and been welcomed with open arms by Ruth, the memory still left a sour taste in the back of her throat. She turned away from Killian and got out of the cruiser with a cough, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her sunglasses.

“Mr. Jones, I’m sorry for interrupting, but we’re way behind schedule today and-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, exiting on the other side of the car and waving off the apology from the harried looking crew member with a lanyard around his neck and another of the ubiquitous walkie talkies they all seemed to carry. “Thank you very much for the official escort, Sheriff Swan.”

She didn’t bother to correct him again that she was only the deputy sheriff, giving him what she hoped was an official looking nod in response. “I’ll be sure to send Merida the bill for using so much of my valuable police time. And you’re welcome, Mr. Jones.”

“Killian,” he offered, before the crew member whisked him away, shepherding him through the maze of trucks and RVs while letting whoever was on the other end of the walkie talkie know that “Mr. Jones was now on set.” Emma thought that he might have hesitated for a bit, lingering for a moment longer with a glance back before disappearing around the side of an Airstream trailer with the crew member and she lost sight of him.

Or maybe she was imagining it.

She needed another coffee.

With their leading man safely delivered, Emma’s next task was to check that everything was running smoothly at this location and if A Midnight Clear needed any further assistance from the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.

“Another last minute permit…shut down traffic on Main Street again…close the library so you can film in it and have to listen to old Mrs. Hubbard bitch about not being able to read the latest National Enquirer for half an hour…give the ridiculously handsome star a blowjob-”

Emma halted dead in her tracks. Had she actually said that out loud? Shit, she did. Luckily, she’d only been muttering under her breath and it didn’t look like anyone was around to overhear. Her fingers found the badge on her belt, running over the metal star. She wasn’t some teenager crushing on a cute boy she’d talked to for all of five minutes, she was thirty years old, for fuck’s sake. An adult, with a college degree and a savings account. A law enforcement officer, come to…enforce the law.

God, that even sounded lame in her own head.

She really, really needed another coffee.

“Enforcing the law” in this case meant moving an orange pylon the crew had left that was too close to the accessible entrance to the park’s footpath. She’d make sure to note that stellar bit of police work in her daily log back at the station.

Signs had been posted to point the crew towards the set, not that Emma needed them. The bench was set in a clearing halfway down the path, not visible from where she was standing because of the trees. She followed along until it came into view, feeling her breath catch in her throat at the sight.

Henry had called it magic, and she supposed it was. Movie magic.

It was like an invisible snow globe had sprouted around the clearing. The green summer grass had been covered in a blanket of white that glittered in the sunlight the way actual snow would, while several faux evergreen trees had been strategically placed around the bench with more snow dusting their branches and dangling icicles that looked so real it was hard to believe they were probably made of plastic. A loud whirring noise suddenly rent the air, sounding like a motorcycle gang was about to come racing through. But this was Storybrooke, the closest thing they had to a motorcycle gang was when Marco gave Granny Lucas a ride to the diner on the back of his Vespa. A minute or so later, large white flakes started falling from the sky and the noise died down to a quieter hum as Merida’s malfunctioning snow machine had obviously been fixed. It all looked pretty damn realistic, Emma would give them that.

Killian appeared on the other side of the clearing, now sporting a black scarf and a pair of gloves with his suit. He was talking to Arthur, Emma was too far away to hear what they were saying but it didn’t take long before the actual filming started. She’d seen enough by now to know that it was a lot less exciting than it sounded. After watching the lead actress, Christina, film the same five second shot of her character walking into the library umpteen times, she really hadn’t paid much attention to what they were actually shooting whenever she had to babysit the crew on location around town. Regina called it “liasoning with the production” because Regina was, quite frankly, a bit of a snob, but really, it was babysitting.

She hadn’t seen Killian film before, and it was a lot more interesting. Yes, Emma could admit that partially it was because he was really, really good looking and it had been a while since her last date, and even longer since her last good date, but it wasn’t just that though. Something about him just changed when Arthur yelled action, the way he walked, his expression when he pretended to answer his cell phone, he wasn’t Killian Jones anymore, he was his character. Emma had only ever played the pity role of a tree in a school play once, she knew jack about acting. It was cool to watch an actual professional do it, especially when that professional looked like he did. They ran through the scene several times and during one of the breaks Killian waved at her. Emma waved back, telling herself the warm feeling in her chest was from the sun.

It was August, after all.

Henry was very excited to hear that she’d finally met the “coolest person ever to have set foot in Storybrooke” when Emma picked him and Paige up from camp that afternoon. They climbed into the Bug and showed her the popsicle stick snowflake ornaments they’d made in arts and crafts, since the Christmas fever had clearly infected Camp Arrowhead. After dropping Paige off at home and eating dinner Henry asked if they could watch Home Alone on Disney Plus, begging, “Please Mom? Please?”

Emma sighed to herself, putting the leftover potato salad back in the fridge. Whenever Henry was interested in something, he threw his whole heart and soul into it, and right now he was all about Christmas movies. She loved that about her son, while privately wondering where the heck it had come from. Not from her or Neal, that was for damn sure. Emma didn’t actually have a middle name, but if she did it might as well have been Cynical, and Neal, well, Neal never took anything seriously enough to care the way Henry did.

A part of her still loved Neal, even after everything that had happened between them.

She really didn’t want Henry to follow in some of his father’s footsteps, though.

Or hers.

“Home Alone it is then,” she agreed.

Henry settled happily on the living room floor, lying on his stomach with his chin propped in his hands to watch Kevin McAllister get left behind while his family rushed off to Paris. Emma curled up on the couch, feet tucked under an afghan Ruth had made for her when she’d been dropped at the Nolans’ door late one night with a duct-taped backpack and a chip the size of the McAllister’s ginormous house on her shoulder. She’d never really liked this movie, even when she was Henry’s age. Sure, the slapstick humor was still funny even as an adult, but…

But…

That huge mansion, filled to the brim with family on Christmas.

The desperate mother, fighting tooth and nail to return to her abandoned child.

The tearful reunion at the end.

Emma didn’t need a session with town psychiatrist Dr. Hopper to figure out that she had some issues with Christmas. Growing up in the system it was far from the most wonderful time of the year.

It was usually the worst.

Donated clothes that never fit quite right and generic gifts bought for “Girl Age 9-11”, no mother or father out there fighting their way back to her, no house full of family and Emma knew far too young that Santa wasn’t real, magic didn’t exist, and she was alone in the world, left behind to fend for herself not just for a few days, but for the rest of her life. She was the CPS equivalent of a misfit toy, a foster kid who got too old to be wanted. Even after Ruth took her in and David became the big brother she’d secretly always longed for, the damage had already been done. Even now, Christmas movies just reminded her of her shitty childhood.

“That was awesome!” Henry said once Kevin had been reunited with his family and the credits started to roll. Emma exited out of the Disney app and dropped the remote back onto the couch.

“You’ve already seen it about a million times,” she reminded him.

“If burglars tried to break in here, I’d set up booby traps to catch them too.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “No, you’d call 911 and do exactly what they told you to do. This is real life, kid, not a movie.”

“Movies are way cooler,” Henry proclaimed, flopping onto his back as dramatically as any actor with his arms spread wide as he announced it to the ceiling. She stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, standing over him and holding out her hands to pull him to his feet. “Too bad you’re stuck here in the real world with me, huh?”

After Henry went to bed and she’d mindlessly scrolled through Netflix for a while —ignoring the algorithm’s suggestion to watch The Holiday and lingering for a bit on the thumbnail for Doctor Who before putting on a random episode of Nailed It instead—Emma found herself standing just outside Henry’s room. The door was ajar and she watched him sleep under the superhero posters that were dark shadows on the walls, with the Lego Star Wars x-wing fighter that David and Mary Margaret had given him last Christmas in place of pride on his dresser. Their little two-bedroom house in Storybrooke could charitably be called shabby chic, with its mismatched thrift-store furniture and and oddly-shaped rooms, it was a far cry from the McAllister’s giant McMansion and there was no luxury trips to Paris in Emma’s single mom budget, but she’d worked her ass off to make a home for her son and she was pretty damn proud of it

Her phone vibrated and she gently pulled Henry’s door closed before fishing it out of her pocket to check the notification. She expected to see a text from David or that Mary Margaret had tagged her in another Facebook post, instead it was from Instagram, letting her know that she had a new follower on her thatswangirl account, officialkillianjones. Sure enough, when she tapped the screen it took her right to his profile, the picture was definitely him and there was a blue check mark next to his name. The most recent post was a selfie where he had the black scarf he’d been wearing on set wrapped around his face and fake snow dusting his dark hair, one eyebrow quizzically raised while he stared into the camera. It was captioned, “Just walking in a winter wonderland, it’s still August, right?”

Having had similar thoughts multiple times a day over the last week, Emma snorted in agreement. She leaned against the wall, looking down at the screen. Killian Jones was now following her on Instagram, that was unexpected, to say the least. She followed him, or rather, Henry had followed him on her account, but she’d never expected him to follow her back. Had he actually gone looking for her profile or had Instagram just recommended her the way Netflix had recommended a Christmas movie even though it was August? Her finger was hovering over his latest post while she mused on it and the next thing she knew, she’d liked the photo. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

Henry was going to freak out again when she told him Killian followed her. Being “mutuals” on social media was apparently a Big Deal for reasons she didn’t quite understand.

She’d tell him in the morning, just like she’d told him that she’d met Killian on set, had answered all the questions he’d eagerly peppered her with during dinner, yes, he was very nice, yes, he liked Storybrooke, no, he hadn’t heard about the rain of lobsters (she hadn’t actually asked him if he did, to be honest), and yes, she told him Henry was a Doctor Who fan and he was happy to hear it.

She hadn’t told him about Killian’s offer to show him around the set and give him a behind the scenes look at the movie.

Her son wasn’t like her. Henry was cheerful, exuberant, and believed the best of everyone he

met. He would absolutely, one hundred percent believe that an actor in the middle of filming a movie would carve time out of his busy schedule to play tour guide to a random ten year old.

Emma knew better. It wasn’t worth getting his hopes up when the odds were that Killian had already forgotten all about it.

She closed Instagram. It was late, it had been a long day and she was ready for bed. Her own bedroom wasn’t that much larger than Henry’s and there was a serious lack of closet space, but it did have original hardwood floors that David had helped her refinish and a little wrought-iron Juliet balcony off the window. The house was an old sailor’s cottage, and Emma supposed the balcony had been for the sailor’s wife to lean on and look out to sea, waiting for her husband to return to her once more. She could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach when she opened the window to let in some air, the original features definitely didn’t include AC. It was a far cry from their old apartment in Boston, where there had been no chance of hearing anything except the drone of traffic or a drunken bar fight out of the window. Storybrooke had been a hell of an adjustment, but it was worth it to have a house with a backyard where Henry could play, a steady job with health insurance, family close by in the form of David and Mary Margaret, everything she’d ever wanted.

Well, almost everything, she thought, looking at the empty space on the side of the bed that used to be Neal’s.

Some dreams just didn’t come true.

************

“Seriously, you too?”

The turkey special was one thing, but now Granny’s Diner was fully decked out with little fake Christmas trees sitting on each table, snowflake banners strung up everywhere, red and green napkins in the dispensers and instead of the usual 80s music that was usually playing from the jukebox, it was Michael Buble again, currently informing them in his 40s throwback style that Santa Claus was coming to town. In August.

Granny Lucas looked down over the rim of her glasses. “Oh come on, Sheriff, it’s the most exciting thing to happen to this town since-”

“-since it rained lobsters on Main Street, I know, I know,” Emma finished with a sigh. “But it’s August.”

“It’s good for business,” Granny said. “The lobster bisque is still a top seller, you know.”

Emma hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of lobster since that fateful day. She ordered her usual grilled cheese and onion rings, not bothering to look at the menu.

“Mom, can I get the turkey special?” Henry asked.

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Henry wanted turkey instead of a burger and fries, and the woman whose picture could appear in the dictionary under “crotchety” was humming along to Christmas music in the middle of summer while she poured coffee. Everyone in Storybrooke had lost their damn minds. Or almost everyone. Mr. Gold was the lone holdout who’d refused to allow any filming on the properties he owned, his creepy little pawn shop was the only one left on Main Street without any decorations in the windows and Regina was utterly furious with him. Not that he cared, and the standoff between the mayor and the richest man in town didn’t look like it would end before the filming did.

Granny disappeared back into the kitchen and Emma listened while Henry chatted away about camp and whatever was considered new and cool among his fellow ten year olds, which seemed to change on a daily basis and she was barely thirty but god did she feel like she was about a hundred when her son started in on TikTock trends.

“Mom, look!”

Henry’s sudden gasp and grab at her arm came a split second after the bell over the door chimed, announcing that someone had just walked in. Her back was to whoever it was, but Henry’s eyes were as big as saucers and even before she turned around in the booth Emma knew exactly who had just walked into the diner.

Killian Jones was standing just inside the door, looking around with interest. Strangers in Storybrooke always stood out, something Emma remembered well from their first few months in town, and when said stranger was a handsome man who everyone knew was the star of the biggest thing to happen to the town since the lobsters, well, all eyes were on him.

He caught sight of her, and his face lit up with a smile. All eyes were on him, and he was looking only at her while he walked over to the booth.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!”

It was Henry who replied to his greeting first, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“Sorry to bother you, Sheriff Swan, but I was told this was the best place in town to get real American food and I was wondering if there was anything in particular I should order?”

Again it was Henry who answered, grabbing one of the menus from behind the napkin dispenser and opening it up on the table. “Oh, you have to try a milkshake. And a cheeseburger. I always get it with fries, but Mom prefers onion rings, and-”

“Whoa, slow down there,” Emma interrupted him, while Killian looked like he was stifling a laugh at Henry’s rapid-fire enthusiasm. “Mr. Jones isn’t going to order everything on the menu.”

“Call me Killian, please. And you must be Henry.”

His attention was all on her son now as he held out his hand for Henry to shake and uttered the magic words. “I heard you like Doctor Who.”

By the time Ruby came over to take his order he was sitting in the booth with them, showing a completely enthralled Henry pictures on his phone of the Doctor Who set. Ruby gave Killian a wide smile, her signature crimson lipstick perfect and one hip cocked in his direction when she pulled out her order pad and pen from her apron. Most men (and more than a few women) in Storybrooke were unable to resist Ruby’s bare midriff and wolfish grin. Killian only gave her a polite nod before looking back down at the menu and ordering a milkshake after conferring with Henry on which flavor was the best (chocolate, was Henry’s answer) and a cheeseburger with fries, Henry’s normal go-to meal. Ruby went back into the kitchen with a disappointed pout and Killian went back to telling Henry what he said were top TARDIS secrets until the food was dropped off on plates roughly the size of frisbees.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, looking a little stunned.

“There’s your real American food,” Emma smirked, picking up an onion ring from her plate and biting into it with relish.

“If I eat all this I don’t think I’ll fit back into my costume.”

Henry decided to be helpful. “Mom’ll steal some of your fries when you’re not looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks kid.”

“Steal?” Killian repeated, putting a theatrical emphasis on the word. “A fine upstanding officer would never steal, unless…why, Sheriff Swan, are you secretly a pirate?”

Henry was giggling alongside him and Emma played along with the joke, corny as it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she shot back.

“Perhaps I would.”

They were interrupted by two teenage girls, sharing nervous giggles as they came over to ask for Killian’s autograph and a selfie. He turned to them with that movie-star smile, signing and posing for several pictures with each. When he turned back Emma was holding one of the fries off his plate, the end already dipped in ketchup.

“Oops, how’d that get there?” she mused with faux innocence.

His smile turned to something less suitable for the Hallmark channel’s family friendly reputation as he leaned back in the booth and gave her an appraising look that she met head on while she ate the pilfered fry. She was still pretty good at nicking food when no one was looking, it was a lot more fun now than it had been when she was sixteen.

When Ruby dropped off the bill it seemed like no time had passed, but Emma noticed with a start that the diner was practically deserted, the lunch rush was clearly long over. Killian’s plate was empty, after he’d taken a few pictures to post “real American food” on his Instagram he’d dug in and eaten everything except the fries Emma had filched every time someone else had come over to ask for his autograph or a photo. It had turned into a game they all played until there was none left.

Killian got her back by taking the last onion ring from her plate, aided by her son distracting her, the little traitor. Now she knew how David felt.

“Bye Killian!” Henry said. “See you on Monday!”

During lunch he’d invited both Henry and Paige to visit the movie set on Monday after camp. Emma knew Henry was going to talk about nothing else until then. David was going to be just thrilled to hear all about it during Sunday dinner.

They all slid out of the booth and she went to grab the bill so she could take it up to the cash register at the front, only to see that it had disappeared off the table. Emma frowned, wondering if it had fallen on the floor.

“Ah,” Killian said, and he was even better at sleight of hand than she was because when she looked up she saw he had it, having lifted it without her even noticing. “Let me get this.”

Her initial reaction was to protest, it wasn’t like they’d been on a date or anything, plus it wasn’t just her grilled cheese, it was Henry’s turkey special too on the bill. He must have seen her reluctance on her face because he added, “Consider it thanks for keeping me company, I was just going to get takeaway for one and this was much more fun than eating by myself.”

“Okay,” she found herself agreeing. “Thanks.”

Granny came bustling over from behind the counter. “Hang on, Sheriff, you almost forgot these.”

She handed over two oversized candy canes, Henry snatched one and immediately unwrapped a cellophaned end, sticking it in his mouth like an old man with a cigar.

“Thanks Granny!” he beamed around his mouthful of peppermint before bounding towards the door. “See you on Monday, Killian! Don’t forget!”

“They come with the turkey special,” Granny explained in response to Emma’s questioning look. “And here’s one for our visitor, too, on the house. Come back anytime, Mr. Jones. You were very good for business today. Try the lobster bisque next.”

She handed another candy cane to Killian, looking very pleased with herself. The diner had been more crowded than usual during lunch, now that Emma thought about it, and there had definitely been a higher than average amount of teenage girls. Emma watched through narrowed eyes while Granny went back to the counter and waited until she was out of earshot.

“Take my advice,” she said to Killian, leaning in to murmur it low in his ear, “don’t try the bisque.”

“I heard that, Sheriff!”

Okay, so maybe Granny wasn’t quite out of earshot.

“I think you just made the naughty list, Swan,” Killian chuckled.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

She smirked at his stunned look, feeling something that she hadn’t felt in a long time when she turned and headed for the door, something that made her put a little bit more of a swing in her hips than was strictly necessary and unwrapping her own candy cane as she went. Maybe it wasn’t very professional of her to flirt with him like that, especially when Granny Lucas apparently had the hearing of a woman half her age, but hey, she was off duty and he was only going to be in town for a short while. What was the harm?

The candy cane was pretty good, Emma had to admit to herself.

Hey, candy was candy, no matter what month it was.

***********

David, predictably, was less than pleased at Sunday dinner to hear about Killian’s invitation, and was even grumpier the following week when Henry was still on cloud nine after visiting a real live movie set. He got to hear all about how cool Killian was, and how Henry and Paige got to watch him film a scene while sitting in real director’s chairs, and then they got to be extras in the background and were actually going to be in the movie and wasn’t that the coolest thing ever? Everyone at camp had been so jealous.

“They’re not the only ones,” Emma said with a knowing smile, glancing over at her brother.

“I am not jealous!” David protested. His crossed arms and childish pout told a different story. “Why would I be jealous? Pass me the potatoes.”

Emma handed him the bowl and he started spooning them onto his plate with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Hey Mom?” Henry asked, oblivious to his uncle’s black mood as he took a roll from the basket Mary Margaret was offering to him, “Can I be Prince Charles for Halloween?”

“Prince Charles?” Mary Margaret repeated, putting the basket of rolls down and looking completely baffled.

“Not Prince Charles, Prince Charles,” Emma tried to explain, which only made her look even more confused. “Not the real Prince Charles, I mean. The character Killian played on Doctor Who was named Prince Charles, it was this running gag because he was from a different planet and didn’t know there was a Prince Charles here too so everyone thought he was joking when he said that was his name. Especially since he’s a lot more hand-“

She caught herself before she finished the thought and covered it up with a cough, trying to divert attention away from the fact that she’d almost just called him handsome in front of both her brother and her son. Judging by David’s rolled eyes and Mary Margaret’s raised eyebrows she wasn’t entirely successful, although thankfully Henry didn’t appear to have noticed.

“But, kid,” she continued, “Halloween costumes already? It’s only August. You’ll change your mind ten times before October.”

He shook his head. “No, I won’t, I promise! Please Mom? Please?”

“You said that last year about Iron Man, but then you wanted to be Boba Fett instead, remember?”

“This is different!”

Henry had that stubborn look on his face, the same one he had whenever he’d made his mind up about something, like which was the best Star Wars movie after Empire, (it was Rogue One) or that peas were gross (she agreed with him there), the look that Neal claimed he got from her and boy did that never fail to piss her off. But Neal was back in Boston (with Tamara, that little voice in her head oh so helpfully reminded her, the woman he said she didn’t have to worry about) and while he may have been right about where their son got that particular trait, she didn’t feel like arguing with Henry tonight, especially not so close to Christmas…

…fuck. It was August. She blamed the constant stream of Christmas music and the decorations Mary Margaret had put up already. Her Bug could only pick up the local station and it was too old (or vintage, as she preferred to call it) to have Bluetooth, so they'd arrived at the farm before dinner with the Little Drummer Boy rum-pa-pum-pumming away from the radio to find enough wireframe reindeer set up in the yard to pull Santa’s sleigh and a wreath on the door, while inside the stockings Ruth had made were hanging up on the fireplace mantle and even Fandral the golden retriever was jauntily dressed in a festive red plaid collar instead of his normal black one.

“They won’t make a costume for that,” Emma said instead of saying no outright, trying to let Henry down easy, “he’s not a big enough character.”

He frowned, looking down at his plate and chewing on his lip. She knew she was right, Target wasn’t going to have a Prince Charles costume alongside the umpteen Spidermans and Elsas.

“I could make it,” Mary Margaret offered.

Henry looked up, hope flaring bright on his face. “You could?”

“I’ve been meaning to get Ruth’s old sewing machine down from the attic to make a few, um, projects anyway, it’ll be good practice. Do you have a picture of it?

“Mom?”

He swiveled to face Emma with big, excited eyes. She had her phone sitting on the dinner table in case there was an emergency back at the station, like Mr. Gold getting another call asking if his refrigerator was running or Regina making an urgent report after catching someone littering. With a few taps she opened Instagram, going to Killian’s profile and scrolling back until she found a photo he’d posted of himself dressed in the Prince Charles costume of a long brown coat worn over a white shirt and black vest.

“It doesn’t look easy to make,” she warned, turning the screen towards Mary Margaret. Emma wasn’t the crafty type, not like her “I saw it on Pinterest!” spouting sister-in-law, but that coat seemed pretty complicated. Mary Margaret took the phone to have a closer look and squinted down at the photo, chewing her lip just like Henry.

“I’ll have to look for a pattern that I can adapt into the coat, and it’ll take a decent amount of fabric, but I should be able to copy it.”

“Yes!” Henry was bouncing in his seat, “See Mom? Aunt Mary can make it for me!”

Emma wondered if she’d ever stop getting caught by surprise every time David showed up at her house with his toolbox whenever she complained about the water pressure in the shower or the window that refused to open, or when Mary Margaret made social media-worthy cupcakes for Emma to take to the PTA meeting after she had a late shift at the station the night before and had no time (or skill) to bake herself. Her knee-jerk reaction was usually to protest, to say she could handle it herself, except she had to admit she wouldn’t be able to make anywhere near as good of a costume as Mary Margaret could make no matter which online tutorial she tried to follow.

“Okay,” she agreed, knowing she was powerless against the both of them now that they’d teamed up against her, “but, Mary Margaret, if it turns out it’s too much work for you-”

“Bah,” she interrupted. “What’s family for? Henry’s going to be the best Prince Charles in Storybrooke when I’m done.”

“He’s going to be the only Prince Charles in Storybrooke,” David pointed out. “Sure you don’t want to be Han Solo this year? I can be Chewbacca.”

“Nope!” Henry said, his ten year old mind clearly made up. Which meant he’d probably change it tomorrow, just like he’d gone from insisting that he had to be Iron Man one day to Boba Fett the next last year, but for now, her son was going to be a two-episode character that no one except die hard Doctor Who fans would recognize for Halloween.

David continued to sulk in his chair and stab at his food while Mary Margaret handed the phone back to Emma. It was still open on the photo from Killian’s Instagram and when she looked down she saw the heart was now filled in, meaning Mary Margaret had liked the months-old post.

Crap.

She narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law, who was calmly serving herself from a snowflake patterned bowl that normally didn’t appear until December. For someone who dressed and acted like a 1950s schoolteacher with her pastel sweater sets and sunny, glass-is-half-full optimism, she had a suspiciously satisfied look on her face.

“Pass the salt, please,” she asked mildly, meeting Emma’s gaze over Henry’s head. “It’s certainly a nice…costume, isn’t it, Emma?”

Yeah, liking Killan’s post was no accident.

************

If there was one place in town that Emma would have bet actual cash on not giving in to the red-and-green wave that had spread through Storybrooke like a zombie apocalypse, only with a horde of gingerbread men instead of the walking dead, it was The Rabbit Hole.

Nope.

The shitty dive bar atmosphere of mismatched glassware and pool tables with faded felt was somehow even shittier with one of those white artificial trees set up in the corner and old-school multicolored lights strung haphazardly around the walls. At least there wasn’t any Christmas music playing—Emma may or may not have looked up flights to Canada one afternoon at the station while plotting how to murder Michael Buble and make it look like a tragic accident—classic rock thumped in the background instead when she walked in the door.

Henry was spending his monthly weekend in Boston with Neal and Ruby had dragged Emma out of her empty house to hit the town. In Storybrooke the pickings were slim, it wasn’t like there were any wine bars or clubs, so they went down to The Rabbit Hold alongside everyone else who wanted to blow off some steam on a Saturday night. Which included a bunch of the movie people, Emma saw the seven Teamsters pounding back beers together at a table and Merida throwing back shots as if they were water, while Arthur was hitting on anything in a skirt. Including Emma herself when they first arrived, which…no. Even though he was a good looking guy and would be far from the first asshole she ever slept with, she did not need to get laid that badly.

“You know it’s August, right?” she said to Ruby, pointing at the headband she was wearing. It had reindeer antlers. She was also wearing a short, sparkly red dress that would fit in perfectly at a Christmas party, but then again she wore red year round anyway.

“So? Lighten up, Emma, you’re giving off serious Grinch vibes, you know.”

She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at Ruby, which probably proved her point. Emma had to admit she was in a grinchy mood, with Henry gone and the house so much quieter without him there.

“You need a drink, and a dick, and not necessarily in that order.”

One thing about Ruby Lucas that anyone who spent more than five minutes with her learned was that while she may live in a storybook town that looked like the very definition of family friendly, she talked like she was starring in her own show on HBO.

“Let’s start with the drink,” Emma said, steering Ruby towards the bar and not having much hope of finishing with a dick.

The thing about small towns where everyone knew each other was that...it was a small town and everyone knew each other. One night stands were super awkward when you had to pull them over for speeding a week later after they never called you back, and she didn’t need Mary Margaret to start wedding planning after hearing from Ashley at the grocery store that her boyfriend Sean had been told by his friend Philip that Emma had left the bar the night before with someone they’d all known all their lives. So she nursed her Sam Adams (you could take the girl out of Boston, but you couldn’t take Boston out of the girl) for as long as possible and watched Ruby work her mojo instead of looking for someone to give her the “D” - as Ruby so unsubtly put it. Not that Ruby herself was leaning that way either, since she ended up doing shots with Merida and from the way they were looking at each other, leaning in close to speak in the other’s ear even though it wasn’t that loud, “friendly” touches to hands and arms and shoulders that lasted a little too long...yeah. Ruby wasn’t going home alone.

Well, she did like red. That extended to redheads, apparently.

“So...looks like your friend is having a Highland fling tonight.”

Emma looked over as Killian Jones sat down next to her in the seat Ruby had abandoned to go visit Scotland instead. He tipped his glass towards the pair, Ruby was now sitting on Merida’s lap with her dress riding dangerously high up her thighs and Emma really hoped she wouldn’t have to arrest her best friend for indecent exposure.

Again.

“I guess so,” she drawled, waiting to see if he was going to leer and make some gross comment about how hot two girls were together. He didn’t though, he just finished his drink and waved at the bartender.

“Another rum, neat, and one of whatever the lady is having.”

He looked good, that knife’s edge jaw covered with dark scruff several hours past a five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes bright even in the dimly lit room. Blue eyes that were fixed firmly on her, making Emma warmer than the liquor or the balmy summer night.

Ruby and Merida disappeared together at some point, Emma wasn’t really sure when. She drank the beer Killian bought her, and then bought him a drink, because she was an adult with a job and her own credit card and he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

Especially because he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

“Need a police escort home?” she asked, when his glass was empty and she knew the burn between her thighs wouldn’t be satisfied with her own hand tonight. Technically she was off the clock, but it was her sworn duty to protect and serve the people of the town, and that included handsome visiting actors with accents more delicious than candy canes or pumpkin spice lattes. It was just hitting midnight when they left The Rabbit Hole into a clear night of sea breeze coming in off the ocean and the stars above guiding their way like the sailors coming home to the lovers left behind on land. There was heat in the air, heat between them in the heavy-lidded glances they shared that were thick with anticipation, heat in the rum Emma wanted to taste directly from his mouth instead of a glass. She pulled him to her by his necklace, fingers wrapping in the cool metal of the chain and her back hitting the wall behind them.

The music from the bar was still faintly audible when their lips met, bass notes echoing like the beat of her pulse as she felt the kiss all the way to her toes. He caged her in place, hand sliding to the back of her neck and she met him more than halfway, her hips pressing against the bulge she could feel in his tight jeans and sliding her tongue along his reddened bottom lip. She relished his shiver when she grazed it with her teeth.

Killian pulled back, his eyes a glittering line through dark lashes and his voice a rasp of liquor and lust.

“Swan, are you sure?”

Emma really, really shouldn’t be doing this for a number of really, really good reasons, she had a kid, she had to oversee the rest of the movie shoot, Regina would probably kill her if she found out, literally, not figuratively, but, fuck it.

“Yes.”

He was staying in a house that the production company had arranged for him, he explained, a giant Victorian affair with gingerbread trim and one of those wide wrap-around porches that was made for a swing. Killian seemed slightly embarrassed when she couldn’t stop herself from gaping at it, although who could blame her, the house had a damn turret, for fuck’s sake. He fumbled with the lock and muttered that it was far too big for one person but it had been on the market for ages with no takers so they got a good deal on a short term rental. She followed him in when he finally got the door open, catching a glimpse of a kitchen that would have Mary Margaret squeeing over the vintage appliances and a giant bay window before he was on her, mouth latching onto her neck and all thoughts of her sister-in-law and architectural details flew out of her head. Strong hands reached under her thighs, lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his hips. The line of his erection pressed against the damp lace under her dress with the movement, making them both shudder.

Killian carried, actually carried, her up the stairs, like she was a heroine from Bridgerton or something and not just a blonde he picked up at a bar, and damn if that wasn’t even more of a turn on. They tumbled through a door and onto a bed, her ankles crossing behind his back while he continued to grind between her thighs, his tongue in her mouth and his hands now planted rather firmly on her ass. She didn’t mind that at all and was eager to get her hands on him too, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt to find bare skin that was scorching to the touch when she dragged it up his sides. He had to go up on his knees on the bed to get it off completely, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side as soon as his arms were free. His chest was dusted with a generous amount of dark hair, it turned into a line that went down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans with a tantalizing hint of the treasure that lay at the end of the trail. There was something so delightfully male about it, and the noise he made when she raked her nails through the fine mat was even better.

Her dress was next to go, and while she hadn’t gone out with the expectation of getting laid she had worn something underneath that definitely meant she wasn’t opposed to the idea, lace-trimmed and sheer in all the right places and would look damn good on Killian’s bedroom floor. He pulled a bra strap down with his teeth and swirled his tongue around her nipple, bringing it to a tight pebble in his mouth while his fingers worked at the button of his jeans.

“You have condoms, right?” she asked, voice more than a little breathless and her back arching to give him better access.

“Yes,” he answered, flicking his tongue one more time over the tight peak before his dark head came up and he winked at her. “But we’ve got time before we need them.”

He leaned forward then and kissed her, far more softly this time. The hookups she’d had after her breakup with Neal had been more about scratching the itch, getting off and getting out as soon as possible. She’d almost forgotten it could be like this instead. Killian kept his word and took his time, kissing a line down her neck and back to her breasts, lavishing each one in turn with licks and sucks that had her flushed right down to her navel. When he hooked his thumbs in the lace clinging to her hips and dragged it down she was more than ready, slick with arousal under his fingers while he braced himself on one arm to reach between her legs. He slid up and down in a friction that had her gripping his shoulders and holding on against the wave that was poised to drag her under. When he slid two fingers inside and crooked them just right she met his eyes for a moment, the blue swallowed in a dark storm of desire, before her head tipped back helplessly into his pillow and she fell over the edge with a gasp.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Another kiss was pressed to her lips while she lay panting for air and then he reached over to the bedside table and pulled open a drawer, rummaging around blindly inside until he found the box of condoms. Emma saw that it was unopened, which made her wonder if she was the first woman he’d slept with since he arrived in town. Not that it really mattered, this was just a one time thing, but still.

His boxer briefs were tented with his erection. She sat up and slid her palm over it while he was tearing a condom off the string and his hips jerked into her hand. A smirk played at her lips as she did it again, before toying with the waistband and tracing the lines of his abs with the tip of her nail.

“You said we had time, right?”

His accent was thicker, rougher, when he answered. “I did, didn’t I?”

Emma peeled the cotton down his thighs and pushed him onto his back, plucking the condom from his unresisting hand for later and laying it on the sheets next to his hips. As late as it already was, she wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. They had time, time for her to lick a teasing stripe up the length of him and watch the muscles in his stomach contract at the sensation, time to take him in her mouth and continue the tease with her tongue. Each gasp and groan that followed made her feel sexy, gorgeous, desired, all the things she didn’t usually have time for in her daily life. When she finally released him her was rock hard and the second the condom was rolled on he dragged her onto his lap, a wrecked look on his face. It was just the right side of rough when he thrust up, hands tight on her hips and breath hot on her neck. His beard rasped against her skin while the thick drag of his erection rocked inside her, she was going to feel it in the morning and she relished the thought.

They found a rhythm, Emma riding him to the tempo only they could hear, rolling her hips and squeezing around him. The bed creaked with the movement and his deep groans mixed with her own higher-pitched cries. He filled her on each stroke, it felt amazing and yet it wasn’t quite enough to bring her off again. Killian seemed to sense it when she started to falter, chasing the high that stayed just out of reach. He tightened his arms around her back and rolled them, settling on top of her and giving a heavy thrust that made her toes curl and her back arch. Her eyes squeezed shut and one of his hands found hers, lacing their fingers together against the mattress and holding tight. The other lifted her knee and changed the angle just enough to give her that last little push she needed to come a second time.

Killian followed her a few moments later, burying his face in her neck and his back slick with sweat as he shuddered through his climax.

“That was,” he breathed, clearly too blissed out to even finish the thought.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

It had been the best sex she’d had in a long time, blowing every other one-night stand completely out of the water. She had no illusions that it was more, he was only in town for a short time and it was all she wanted, anyway.

“Does Granny’s serve breakfast?”

The sudden question from the pleasant weight pinning her to the bed caught her off guard. “What, like right now?”

Killian chuffed quietly into her shoulder. “No, it’s just that I’ve got nought but some tea and toast to offer you in the morning, and I think I’ve finally finished digesting that cheeseburger by now.”

That made her snort, remembering the look on his face when he’d first encountered Granny’s idea of a portion size. It took her another second to realize that he expected her to not only stay the night, but to stay for breakfast. It was sweet, but-

There was always a but.

But if she went to Granny’s Diner with him in the morning, wearing the same dress she’d worn to The Rabbit Hole the night before, the whole town would know they’d slept together before the lunch rush. She should make an excuse to leave, find her underwear, and go home.

Killian kissed her neck and got out of bed, disappearing into an ensuite bathroom. She’d tell him she had the early morning shift at the station, she’d tell him Henry was coming home and she had to go, she’d tell him something, anything, and leave…

The combination of alcohol and incredible sex was making her limbs heavy and the prospect of having to put her bra back on was about as appealing at the moment as a budget meeting with Mayor Mills. Plus his bed was so comfy, king-sized and covered in pillows that she wanted to bury herself in.

Emma was almost asleep when Killian climbed back into bed, one arm snaking around her waist and pulling her so that she was spooned against him with her back to his front. Lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

Just before she drifted off completely she felt a pang of regret, that she couldn’t go out for breakfast with him in the morning or go home with him again at night no matter how good looking he was or how good he was in bed.

Or how good he was with her son.

It was just a one time thing.

********

“A grilled cheese and onion rings, right Emma?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.”

Ruby jotted the order down on her pad and turned to Henry. “And for you, kiddo?”

“No turkey special?”

She rested a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Fraid not. Back to the old menu now, I can do a burger, or the lobster bisque.”

Emma suppressed a shudder. Luckily Henry wasn’t much interested in lobster unless they were raining down from the sky, and he ordered a cheeseburger with fries instead. In addition to the old menu Granny’s Diner was back to the regular decor, the napkins were white, the mini trees were gone, and the jukebox was playing Top 40 hits from the Reagan administration instead of Christmas music. No more Michael Buble, no one was wearing Santa hats, or wishing each other happy holidays, the Bean & Brew was back to promoting iced coffees instead of pumpkin spice lattes and everything was back to normal in Storybrooke.

Just what Emma had been waiting for.

Henry started chattering away about whatever was currently going viral, something that was of vital importance to any self-respecting ten year old. Emma listened with half an ear, waiting for their order. Ruby brought over Henry’s milkshake and her hot chocolate with cinnamon. It was slightly cooler now than it had been a few weeks ago, but it was still almost seventy degrees out. She’d just been in the mood for one.

“Crap, I forgot to add the cinnamon. Sorry Emma, I’ll go grab it.”

Before she left the bell over the door rang, announcing a new arrival to the diner. Emma’s back was to it so she couldn’t see who it was at first, it was Ruby who looked over first and a smile broke over her face.

“Hey, look who just came back to town.”

Emms felt her heartbeat quicken and a flush rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat coming from her drink. Henry was grinning and waving like a maniac and she took a breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When she opened them and turned around she immediately locked eyes with the man who’d just walked in.

“Oh,” she said, slumping down in her seat and unable to stop the wave of disappointment washing over her. “It’s August.”

*********

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma smiled and took the festive red cup from the barista, a young man wearing an elf hat with his green apron.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She stepped outside of the packed Starbucks after adding an extra dash of cinnamon from the condiment bar to her gingerbread hot chocolate, beanie pulled down over her ears and her jacket zipped up to her chin. The cold still nipped at her cheeks and her breath immediately fogged the air, it was December, after all.

Fortifying herself against the chill with a sip of her drink, she joined the throng packing the sidewalk. The skyscrapers above, the massive crowds, the Starbucks and takeout places on every corner, New York City was a far cry from Storybrooke.

Henry’s list of exciting things to happen in their sleepy little town now included the day when the FBI had arrived without warning to arrest Mr. Gold. It turned out that the pawn shop owner and richest man in Storybrooke had made his money years prior by defrauding investors in a scheme where he claimed to be able to create gold from inexpensive materials, like lab-created diamonds, that was indistinguishable from the real thing. In truth, it was all a scam and the supposed gold was fake. By the time his investors found out they’d been fleeced, he’d taken the money and run. “Gold” wasn’t even his real name, he’d chosen that as his alias and from Emma’s acquaintance with him she was sure he was probably feeling very smug and satisfied with himself over his not so clever little joke. Storybrooke had been his hiding spot with his young trophy wife and stolen cash, the townspeople none the wiser until a literal SWAT team showed up.

Emma had caught him before he crossed the town line, trying to flee in a car that had just been reported stolen to the local radio station instead of the sheriff’s department. She’d been completely unaware of the special task force that was raiding his house at the same time, a group of highly trained agents who didn’t look too happy that it was a small town cop who’d actually apprehended the man who was fifth on their top ten most wanted list when she brought him in.

Gold had stolen a lot of money. A lot.

As the arresting officer she’d had to come to New York City, the scene of Gold’s crime, to give a formal statement in person at the FBI’s field office, answer the same questions over and over again about a hundred times, sign more paperwork than the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department generated in six months, and accept her share of the reward money.

Yes Virginia, there was reward money.

Enough to pay off her student loans, put a sizable chunk into Henry’s college fund, splurge on a killer leather jacket that she’d been eyeing online forever and looked damn good in, if she did say so herself, and buy some very nice Christmas presents for the people in her life. She had several things already stashed back in her hotel room for Mary Margaret and David, although her idiot brother was still in the doghouse with her for the little stunt he’d pulled. Bound and determined to prove he was Henry’s cool uncle (never mind the fact that he was Henry’s only uncle) he’d let her ten year old son drive his truck.

Right into a town mailbox.

She should have bought him a lump of coal instead of AirPods. Luckily Regina was too busy gloating over Gold’s arrest and the defeat of her longtime nemesis to notice the wilful destruction of town property before Graham had it removed. Emma, on the other hand, had threatened both David and Henry with a weekend in side by side cells at the station with nothing but bread and water if they ever did it again. Technically that was a misuse of police authority, but considering she had a citation from the FBI with a fancy seal and everything now posted above her desk she felt she could get away with it.

David’s gift was done, Mary Margaret’s was done (along with a few gifts for the new addition to the family that had been tearfully announced at Thanksgiving, Baby Boy or Girl Nolan would be making his or her appearance right around Easter) and while she’d picked up several things for Henry, there was one item on his list she was still trying to snag.

Gingerbread hot chocolate in hand, she crossed 34th street and walked into Macy’s to hit up the special Lego pop-up holiday store inside. It carried several sets that weren’t available anywhere else, not even online, including a limited edition Star Wars themed one that Henry had declared to be the coolest Lego set ever. He wasn’t the only one, it was such a hot ticket item among Lego enthusiasts that the store only put out a few at completely random times of the day to discourage scalpers and they always sold out immediately. There were even Twitter accounts solely devoted to posting when they were available, Emma had followed them all in desperation but had no luck so far. Now she was down to her last night in New York before heading back to Storybrooke and she was going to give it one more try even though she had little hope of finding one.

But for Henry, it was worth a shot.

Like every other store Macy’s was completely done up for the holidays, with garlands of tinsel and greenery draped everywhere, giant stars hanging from the ceiling, and Paul McCartney simply having a wonderful Christmastime over the loudspeakers. The entrance to the pop-up itself was flanked by two six-foot tall nutcrackers made of Lego, and inside there was a Lego Christmas tree that everyone stopped at to take photos. As impressive as it was, Emma was on a mission and she bypassed all the tourists taking selfies to make her way straight to the Star Wars section, feeling a bit like Princess Leia when she knelt down by the life-sized Lego R2-D2 to check the lowest shelf just in case one had been shoved back there.

Hey only hope was dashed when all she found was a line of Baby Yodas.

“Excuse me,” she straightened up and snagged one of the employees walking by in his “Merry and Br(icks)ight” T-shirt, “are there any of those limited edition May The Force Be With You sets out right now?”

He shook his head, juggling an armful of Imperial tie fighters. “No, sorry, we’re already sold out of those for the day. You can try again tomorrow.”

She couldn’t, but she didn’t say it. “Okay, thanks.”

It had always been a longshot, but she couldn’t help the stab of dejection. Some part of her had thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d miraculously be able to find one for her son and make his Christmas dream come true. The employee walked off and she gave one final, resigned look at the display of Millenium Falcons before she left the store too, just in case.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Emma turned around at the voice to find another employee standing behind her, and older man with white hair and glasses. He looked a bit familiar, but before she could figure out how her gaze dropped to the box he was holding. She recognized it on sight even though she could hardly believe what she was seeing, it was the limited edition, impossible to find even on eBay, May The Force Be With You Lego set, number one on Henry’s Christmas list.

“I couldn’t help but overhear, is this what you were looking for?”

She took it from him, almost too stunned to speak. “Yes,” she managed to squeak out, sounding like a little kid, “yes, this is the one my son wants. But I thought it was sold out?”

“Ah,” he smiled. “There was just this one left in the back, I’m glad I was able to grab it for you. Merry Christmas to you and your son.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She turned the box over carefully in a bit of a daze, double and triple checking to make sure it was really the right one and she wasn’t seeing things. When she looked up to thank the employee again, he was already gone.

Huh. Weird.

On her way to the checkout she got stopped three separate times by people offering to buy the set off her, it was that hot. It was also ridiculously expensive, like holy shit, how much kind of expensive, but she didn’t even flinch at the total when she swiped her credit card. It was for Henry, and that was all that mattered.

The temperature had dropped some more by the time she left Macy’s and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her hotel and order some room service, since she was on official business all her expenses were paid for and an overpriced grilled cheese and a glass of wine from the mini-bar followed by a hot bath were calling to her, but she had one final thing to do in New York before she left.

When Henry had found out about her trip he’d been incredibly excited, which surprised her because she’d been expecting him to be disappointed that she had to leave so close to Christmas and would miss out on both the Town Hall carol sing and David and Mary Margaret’s annual ugly Christmas sweater party. It turned out he was so thrilled because the nonstop holiday movie marathon that had been going on in their house all month thanks to Disney Plus had included numerous viewings of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. Henry had all these grand plans for her trip, that she was going to stay in a lavish suite at the Plaza Hotel, visit Duncan’s Toy Chest, and be driven around in a limousine, just like Kevin McCallister did when he got separated from his family, again.

Right.

She was staying at a nondescript Hilton in midtown, was taking cabs instead of limos, and had to break the news to Henry that the toy store in the movie was fictional.

There was one key location though that wasn’t either insanely expensive or non-existent and she hailed a cab, keeping a tight hold on her shopping bag as she slid into the backseat and told the driver where she wanted to go. He pulled away from the curb and Emma watched the streets go by from the window, storefronts all decorated and a kaleidoscope of lights reflecting on the glass.

“The WYNC-FM weather forecast is brought to you by the Hallmark Channel, where every night is Christmas Eve! Tune in tonight for Mistletoe and Memories, a brand new movie about a secret, second-chance romance at the holidays! ”The latest weather forecast has changed again and most of the Eastern seaboard can expect to see a white Christmas this year, with snow expected on the twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth. Maine in particular will receive several inches spread over the holidays, especially in the coastal parts of the state. And to celebrate, here’s the time-honored classic itself.”

The radio station started playing White Christmas, Bing Crosby’s gravelly voice drifting out of the speakers. Henry would be happy to hear there was going to be snow on Christmas, while it had definitely been cold and blustery in Storybrooke, there hadn’t been any snow yet. He’d asked if the town could get one of those machines they used to make the movie and have Christmas all year round.

Emma didn’t find the idea nearly as unappealing as she might have a few months ago.

“We’re here, miss.”

After paying the fare she stepped out and was immediately looked up. The famous Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre was a lot taller in person than it was on screen in Home Alone 2, she had to crane her neck to see all the way up to the star on top. It was covered in lights and shone bright against the night sky, presiding over the open plaza below. At the foot of it was a skating rink, and despite the near freezing temperatures it was still full of people gliding back and forth on the ice. There were tourists come to sightsee milling about, couples bundled up against the cold walking arm-in-arm, hot dog carts and souvenir stands and the whole scene was all very quintessentially New York.

Back home in Storybrooke they had their own tree-lighting ceremony on a much smaller scale at the Town Hall a few weeks prior to kickoff the season, followed by the “Gala Premiere,” as Regina called it, of Storybrooke’s very own Christmas movie. The gala premiere consisted of a screen and a projector set up in the high school auditorium, hot drinks catered by the Bean & Brew, and a rented popcorn machine. David and Mary Margaret came, and Ashley and Sean, and Paige and her dad, and a very, very excited Henry with Emma in tow, all to watch the bookish small-town girl played by Christina Bell fall for the visiting, mysterious Englishman played by Killian Jones, against a backdrop of fake snow and careful editing to hide the fact that it had been filmed in August. They’d renamed the movie, instead of A Midnight Clear it was now A Count for Christmas, because the big reveal was that Killian’s character was actually a count.

Henry was already planning next year’s Halloween costume based on it. As David had predicted, no one had known who he was supposed to be in the Prince Charles costume Mary Margaret had painstakingly made when he went out trick-or-treating with Paige in her much more recognizable Scarlet Witch outfit from Target. But Henry hadn’t cared, not when the official Doctor Who Instagram account itself had reposted the picture Emma had taken of him all dressed up.

She was pretty sure she had Killian to thank for that.

So next year her son was going to be a count instead of a prince. The scene where he and Paige were extras in the background had lasted less than a minute, and only the back of his head was briefly visible on screen, but in true Mike Wazowski fashion none of that had mattered to him and he’d proclaimed to anyone who’d listen, Ruby, the mailman, his dentist, Pongo the Dalmatian, that he’d actually been in a movie!

It was cheesy, and sappy, and sentimental, and all the things Emma swore up and down she wasn’t into.

Maybe she was, a little bit.

A clip from it even went viral, of a rather smoldering look Killian had shot to Christina that was very un-Hallmark like and more suited to something on HBO. It blew up on TikTok, to the point where Killian had even been interviewed by several media outlets and gained over a hundred thousand Instagram followers. Emma was happy for his success (and maybe, just maybe a tiny bit jealous that the look hadn’t been directed at her), although she wasn’t as thrilled as Regina, who actually put out a press release about Storybrooke’s role in the clip.

The selfie Emma took with the Rockefeller Christmas tree behind her wasn’t going to go viral when she posted it on Instagram, adding the caption “not so lost in New York”. That was okay,

it was for Henry and his love of Christmas movies, belief in superheroes and magic and all the good things in the world that she might have forgotten about without him in her life.

There was a busker in the plaza in fingerless gloves and a Santa hat, playing the guitar. Naturally, it was a Christmas song. Even though she’d only planned to grab the photo with the tree and then head back to her hotel, she found herself staying to listen.

Emma recognized the irony of it, after all her complaining back in August about the non-stop Christmas music that drove her to secretly plot how to take out the three worst offenders, Josh Groban, Mariah Carey, and Michael Buble (he was Canadian, so it involved a hockey stick and maple syrup) she’d come around and actually didn’t mind the acoustic version of All I Want For Christmas Is You the busker was strumming. A small group had gathered around to listen and when he finished, she clapped along with them. His guitar case was open on the ground by his feet for donations and a few people tossed in some coins and small bills.

She dropped in a fifty, with the reward money safely deposited in her bank account she could afford to spread some extra Christmas cheer to a stranger. His eyes absolutely lit up when he saw it and she smiled to herself.

“Thank you everyone, I hope you’re all having a lovely evening tonight,” he said to the crowd. “Are there any requests?”

The question was directed at her and there was one song, in particular, that immediately sprang to mind.

“Do you know It Came Upon a Midnight Clear?”

He thought to himself for a moment, plucking a few experimental chords on his guitar. Then he found it, and music filled the air again. As far as Christmas songs went it was softer than a lot of the other, more popular ones, it was wistful, with just a hint of melancholy but ending on a hopeful note. Even though the title of the Hallmark movie had been changed, they kept a scene where Christina and Killian’s characters had to meet up at midnight to break into the library and find the stolen deed to Killian’s ancestral estate that proved he was the rightful heir so he could claim his title. The song had played while snow fell around them as they opened the book of fairytales where the deed had been hidden and found it at last.

Emma had heard Merida cursing at the snow machine with insults that got increasingly more Scottish when it kept malfunctioning the day they filmed the scene, even the seven Teamsters were shocked by how colorful some of them were, and that asshole Arthur had been in a giant snit by the delay and was even more insufferable than usual. But it all came together in the end and watching the final result in the darkened Storybrooke High gym with Henry beside her staring in slack-jawed awe at the screen like it was Avengers Endgame, she had to admit it was worth it.

Movie magic, as Henry called it.

“Emma? Emma, are you here? SWAN!”

The voice cut through the music and the crowd, rising above them all and she felt herself frown, turning in a circle to look for whoever the hell it was who was calling her name. She was alone in the middle of New York City, hundreds of miles away from home.

A man pushed his way through a knot of tourists clustered around one of the hot dog carts and came to a halt several feet away as he caught sight of her. Emma froze on the spot, too shocked by the unexpected sight in front of her to do anything except stare as the music and the crowd and everything else faded away.

It was Killian Jones.

She blinked.

He was still there.

Dressed in a black puffer coat with a scarf around his neck but his head bare against the winter chill. His dark hair was longer than it was the last time she saw him back in Storybrooke the day after filming wrapped, a lock almost fell into his eyes and it curled around the tips of his ears in the winter breeze. He looked good and he looked happy, smiling bright as he crossed the last bit of distance between them.

“Fancy meeting you here, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“What? How?” she sputtered, not quite believing he was real. “Killian?”

“I saw your Instagram post.”

She saw now that he had his phone in one gloved hand and when he held it up, the photo she’d just posted was displayed on the screen. Her own phone suddenly vibrated inside her jacket and when she pulled it out, she saw a notification that officialkillianjones had liked her new post.

“I came to see if I could find you,” he explained, which didn’t exactly clear up her confusion.

“You came to find me…from London? Did you Apparate here, or something?”

“No,” he chuckled, “alas, I’m only a Muggle. No, I’ve been in New York for a few days now, I’ve been auditioning for a new TV series and I just got out of a meeting at the production office over there when your post popped up on my phone.”

He pointed across the plaza at one of the office buildings that surrounded it and she followed the motion, registering what he’d just said.

“You’re auditioning for a new TV show? That’s great!”

Was that a bit of a blush on his cheeks when he ducked his head or was it just red from the cold?

“Yeah, the meeting was actually to tell me I got the part. It was this whole last minute thing, they’ve been trying to full the role for months but couldn’t find anyone they liked, and then when that scene from A Count for Christmas went viral they contacted my agent to see if I was interested. So, I guess I have your lovely town to thank for helping me land it.”

“Oh, wow. Really?”

Henry was going to flip when she told him. He loved all that behind the scenes stuff and would be so proud that it was Storybrooke’s very own movie that was responsible for Killian getting the part.

Heck, she was kinda proud too.

“Really,” he winked. “I’ll have to thank everyone else in person, when we start filming.”

He couldn’t possibly mean…? She met his blue gaze and saw how intently he was looking at her, as if gauging her reaction.

“Start filming?” she asked, “In Storybrooke?”

He turned a bit sheepish, reaching up to scratch behind one ear. “Yeah, they also told me in the last meeting that they just settled on the filming location and signed the contract. Apparently your mayor put together a very impressive and persuasive proposal last week. Frankly, I think they were too intimidated by her to say no.”

Regina had been in a suspiciously good mood lately, but Emma had chalked that up to Gold’s arrest and to winning the town gingerbread house competition for a record-breaking fifth year in a row. Legitimately, too, even she had to admit Regina’s gingerbread castle was pretty dang impressive.

“So, you’re coming back to town,” she said, slowly, and quickly added, “for your TV show.”

“Looks like,” he agreed. “For at least six months of filming. Maybe longer.”

Killian was going to be staying in Storybrooke for at least six months. The official coolest person ever to set foot in it, according to Henry, and the man she hadn’t been able to get out of her head was coming back.

“Good.”

The single word that fell from her lips grew between them in the air with the promise of something more, something new and unexpected and exciting. Emma didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she was willing to find out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nattering on all about myself and I haven’t even asked, what are you doing in New York? Is Henry here with you? His Halloween costume was incredible, by the way.”

She shook her head with a laugh, “No, Henry’s back in Storybrooke with my brother and sister-in-law. As for why I’m here, that’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t I buy you a drink and you can tell me all about it. There’s a lovely little bar in the lobby of my hotel that does a great hot buttered rum. What do you say, Swan?”

She would say that hot buttered rum and a hot as fuck guy who was about to move to her small little town both sounded like Christmas had just come early.

“Lead the way.”

He offered her his arm like the count he’d played in the movie. She looped her hand through it and they started over to a waiting line of taxis on the other side of the square.

“What hotel are you staying at?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s the Plaza.”

Emma halted mid-step. He was staying at the Plaza?

“Seriously?”

Killian looked down at her, brows knitting together in a frown at her reaction. “Yes? The network put me up there, I understand it’s rather famous?

“Yeah, it is, it’s just, um, have you seen Home Alone 2?”

He made a face. “Once or twice when I was a child, I think. Now don’t go telling the Hallmark people this, but, truth be told, my deepest, darkest secret is that I don’t really like Christmas movies.”

Her shoulders silently shook with mirth, thinking of that interview he did post TikTok blowup where he’d absolutely gushed about them. He really was a damn good actor.

“Well, your secret’s safe with me. Although, really, they’re not so bad.”

The star on top of the Rockefeller Centre Christmas tree winked in the rearview mirror when they climbed into the backseat of a cab and started to drive away, Killian’s arm wrapping around her shoulder like it was meant to be there.

Yeah, Emma decided, Christmas movies were alright.

**********

Henry was thrilled when she came home for Christmas with both the most coveted Lego set on the planet and Killian Jones. He couldn’t leave the country while his work permit for the new TV show was being processed, and she wasn’t going to leave him all alone on Christmas.

David was less than pleased when she brought Killian over for Christmas Day dinner at the farm, although he hid it behind a smile and a handshake while Mary Margaret immediately fussed over their last-minute guest and Fandral the golden retriever ran circles around them.

Emma just hugged her brother and whispered in his ear, “This is payback for letting my ten year old son drive. Merry Christmas.”

#captain swan #captain swan fic #cs ff #cs fic #my fic #(yes there's smut in this)#merry christmas ya filthy animals #and a happy new year

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fivefriedtofu · 2 years

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↳ ❝ how sweet it is. ❞ | #barista! thoma x gn reader, fluff ; coffeeshop au.

there is no content, only thoma being sweet and accommodating to a reader with social anxiety

c/w: completely sfw, social anxiety

a/n: sort of platonic but it can be read as romantic. just me validating myself. god this is so self-indulgent and probably boring, don't look at me-

oh, and the link directs to a spotify playlist of mine. you don't need to listen to it, i just thought it'd be fun to just add that. like a bonus hehe.

— coffeeshop au where thoma is that cute barista and you're the nervous customer trying to order but his charming smile is just too distracting.

— but also 'cuz, y'know you have social anxiety.

— you claim you're regular, who visits every week but how come thoma's only seen you now?

— in a flurry, you explain that you usually let the person you're with to order for you. and that you chose to order this time by yourself as a way to practice and build confidence.

— that or your friend may or may not have bullied you into it.

— thoma who gives you this gentle and patient smile as you stammer about your explanation.

— he thinks it's charming how you'd laugh between each sentences, and then smile afterwards. it just saddens him a bit that you would cover your mouth though.

— o-oh but please don't get him wrong! he isn't glossing over your anxiety or lowering it down as if it's simply some quirky personality trait. oh heavens, no.

— he understands how it's probably like a nervous habit, or something you do to stabilize and/or ground yourself.

— (i actually do it to keep myself talking and to fill in awkward silences that i definitely will end up creating.)

— he just thinks your smile is lovely, 's all.

— back to you: he notices another habit. your hands are all over the place—from rubbing against your face, then sliding down to your neck. and then you'll rub your nose. then you'll crack your fingers. you don't seem to know what to do with your hands.

— "ahh, hold on. i'm—oh, wait. i know what to order, i'm just nervous. i'm sorry—"

— "no, no! it's alright. please feel free to take your time." he says, despite the line that's behind you. however you still feel nervous, feeling like an inconvenience to said people.

— but then he gives the air a little fist bump, gently encouraging you.

— you had to suppress a laugh. oh, god he's adorable.

— you manage to recite your order as well as your friend's.

— "gotcha! we'll have them ready in a few." as if nothing happened, he gives you a bright grin.

— you give one back, albeit yours being softer and more mellow than his. and this time, you weren't hiding. you felt so proud right now.

— and so is this stranger who's taking your order! his face grows brighter as he sees your fulfilled expression.

— he could feel his cheeks becoming warm again, thoma absolutely thinks your smile is so nice! please try not to hide it!

— it changes your whole vibe. you look so vibrant and glowing. oh how thoma wishes he could say that but he doesn't wanna seem like a creep and make you uncomfortable.

— so he simply settles with writing a small note on your cup instead.

— he calls your name once your orders were ready and hands them to you with a nod and a smile.

— you return his kind gesture. as you approach your table, you quickly notice your decorated cup.

— "i hope you order from us again. you did great! ^o^ - thoma."

— you felt like crying, this is the sweetest thing you've ever seen. a joyful laugh instead escapes you.

— he even drew little stars around your cup.

— when you do come back and order on your own again, thoma will be there to greet you with a smile.

#[ 💘 ] — thoma.#genshin x reader #thoma x reader #thoma headcanons #genshin thoma #thoma #thoma x you #thoma x gn reader #thoma fluff

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maitaitiu · 1 month

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eggshell blue OCxCanon week 2024 Day 2: "mundane tasks" + "seriously. I mean it. thank you" Pairing type: romantic Canon Character: Grant (he/him) OC: Mira (they/them) Fandom: Pokemon Wordcount: 1,269

AO3 link

CWS: implied past abuse (nothing at all explicit but it is loosely implied)

Synopsis: Mira's workaholic nature finally catches up to them, and exhaustion hits. Thankfully, Grant is there.

If there was one thing Mira hated doing, washing dishes was certainly, most definitely, it.

They spent five years working as a dishwasher in a bistro before finally having the chance to move up to actually cook things, and occasionally tend the bar or do barista stuff. So, they really, really, had washed more than their fair share of dirty plates in their lifetime already.

Their fingertips had shrivelled up from the amount of time they’d been lying in the bath, avoiding the mountain of stacked plates by the kitchen sink. The bathwater was freezing. And all the bubbles had disappeared. It was miserable. But very much preferable to getting out and doing the necessary chores.

And they could just leave them until tomorrow; it had been a really long day at the fossil lab, and a couple of their pokemon had caught a bit of a cold, and Grant had been out all day with so many Gym Challenges… Mira was just exhausted, so surely it would be fine for them to just… leave the dishes until tomorrow morning.

But then they’d inevitably wake up tomorrow, ready to start the day, and immediately be put into a foul mood upon walking through the corridor of their flat and into the kitchen, only to be greeted by such an awful mess.

It would completely ruin tomorrow.

But they were just… so tired.

As their two-hour long playlist of relaxing ambient music finally ended, Mira groaned, and managed to haul themself out of the bath at long last.

They wrapped themself in their towel, pulled the plug on the water, and shuffled through their flat to their bedroom.

Mira barely managed to dry themself of fully before pulling on their pyjamas. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just… lie down for a minute and let their hair dry a little before they sorted out the kitchen, right?

So, they did.

And then woke up as mid-morning light seeped through their half-closed curtains. That they certainly didn’t remember closing.

Mira bolted up, anxiety flooding their whole body, and they practically threw themself out their bedroom and across the flat and into the kitchen- where-

“Oh! You’re up!” Grant was stood at the stove, scrambling some eggs and toast- Mira conveniently did not notice the smoke rising from the pan in their nervous state- while a pot of coffee steeped on the side, “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, y’know.”

Mira stood in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes wide as saucers. Fists balled by their sides. Grant glanced back at them again, and his eyebrows shot up in concern. He moved the pan off the hot ring and crossed the room to stand by Mira.

“It’s alright,” he said, holding a hand out to them, “You go sit on the sofa, and I’ll bring us breakfast to share, mm?”

Mira let him guide them to the sofa, where they turned around to watch as he walked back to the stovetop.

“The dishes,” they said, “I left dishes out last night.”

“So? You did a million other things yesterday; I think you’re entitled to leave out some dishes.” Grant’s voice was so genuinely nonchalant as he sprinkled some possibly fresh chives into the eggs that it startled Mira a little.

“They’re washed.” Mira said, not meeting Grant’s eyes as he glanced back at them once more, and instead they stared intently at the drying rack where the dishes lay, some still with soap suds dripping down them.

“Yes?” Grant rolled his eyes as he dished out the eggs, toast, and coffee, “Come on, Mira, I’m perfectly capable of handling a few dishes. I’m more than just a pretty face you know.”

As he brought breakfast over to the couch and handed Mira their plate and cup- cutlery balanced expertly on the edge of the plate- they noticed he’d given them their favourite mug. As he always did.

They placed the plate on their lap and took a sip of the coffee first. Sharp, rich. It was beautiful coffee. It was a blend from Laverre city; Valerie had managed to get them a large selection of little bags so they could try out all the different varieties. Mira was still getting used to the fact that sometimes people just did nice things because they could.

“Thank you.” Mira said softly as they placed their mug on the coffee table in front of them.

Grant, mid-grimace as he ate some of the eggs, replied, “Thank me after you’ve eaten… I never claimed to be a chef…”

Mira managed a little laugh. And leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Not all of us can be gorgeous and a masterful cook.”

“Just you, I presume?” Grant said drily, a sweet smile playing on his face.

“Shush, you.” Mira snorted, and cut a piece of their toast off, “I meant thank you. For not getting upset at me about the dishes.”

Grant, who could never get used to the strange things Mira worried about- and how it made him quietly furious at their ex-partner- paused eating for a moment.

“I will never get upset at you for something like that. I’ll never shout or guilt trip you. I promise you that,” he said, his tone warm and gentle, but deadly serious, “If we do ever disagree on something we will talk it out calmly and nicely, like the grown adults we are.”

“I know.” Mira nodded, staring intently at their breakfast.

“Mira. I don’t care if it’s dishes, or painting a wall, or fixing a door, or a mountain of laundry or unclogging a damn toilet. I am fully prepared to work with you on chores and every boring or unpleasant necessity that needs to be done. And-” he held up a hand to stop them from interrupting, “You don’t owe me anything for that. This is a partnership.”

After a moment of pushing their food around their plate, Mira nodded, and leaned onto Grant’s shoulder. It was a little uncomfortable, since they were a good few centimetres taller then him, but neither cared.

“My ex was a real scumbag.” They mumbled, “Thank you, Grant.”

“I know, I’m the best boyfriend in the world. Even if my cooking sucks.” He sighed dramatically, “Oh well… we can’t all be perfect. Think that’s reserved for just you.”

Mira laughed, “I mean it! Seriously. Thank you, Grant. For the dishes. And for… everything else.”

They paused.

“Except these eggs. They aren’t great…”

Grant chuckled as he tried to feign offense. Mira grinned.

“The coffee’s good, though.”

“Let’s just go out for breakfast.” Grant shook his head and took Mira’s plate from them, “What do you think?”

“Seaview Teahouse?” Mira asked, knowing he’d agree to the tearoom they’d started their first “proper” date in, almost a whole year ago now, “I heard they’ve got a great selection of teas you can get iced for summer…”

“Seaview Teahouse it is!” Grant stood up and tipped the uneaten eggs and burned toast into the trash can, and left the plates in the sink, “And I’ll deal with these when we get back.”

Mira shoved him lightly, “You did the last bunch. I’ll handle these.”

“If you insist,” Grant smiled, and kissed their hands, “Partner.”

“What are you, a cowboy?” Mira laughed, as they headed back to their room to get dressed to go out.

“Yee-haw.” Grant’s voice was intentionally flat, but Mira could hear the smile in his tone. They found themself smiling, too.

They found themself smiling so much these days.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day today.

#oc x canon week #oc x canon week 2024 #oc: mira #swordsdanceshipping #words

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dandelionpixels · 22 hours

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abed nadir x reader

(romantic)

ask: Hello! I like writing short stories, listening to indie music, analyzing fiction and I love horror, the Zelda games, and Studio Ghibli! Also I'm autistic and have ADHD. I would like to request romantic hcs for me and Abed Nadir from Community!

- You guys are lowkey everything omg.. a perfect match forreal!!

- Both of you love to do ‘project trades’ where you show him your newest story, he shows you his newest film, and you guys exchange reviews!! Helps get some fresh eyes on what you’re working on, and you love to see each other’s stuff.

- Movie nights go crazy!!! Sometimes you’ll draw movies out of a hat and sometimes you’ll each pick one and watch both. You’ll try to line up genres, like both picking horror or both picking something animated, etc! And you guys absolutely have matching letterboxd profile pics.

- Zelda playthrough. Everytime you play Zelda, Abed wants to just sit with you and watch. He’s not a backseat-gamer really, he just likes to ask a lot of questions about the lore. Sometimes he’ll do his homework on the floor while you play, cause he likes the game’s ambience.

- He’s kind of obsessed with your music taste. Like he genuinely thinks you’re the coolest person ever. When you guys first liked each other, you made him a playlist and burned it onto a CD just because you thought he’d like it better that way.

- When you gave it to him, he kinda shut down for a moment, before looking at you and completely deadpan going “I need to go to my dorm and listen to this right now.” and scurrying off. He came back the next week with a CD he made for you with his favorite songs. Despite his solemn exterior he was almost clearly nervous to give it to you and disappeared the second you tried to ask any questions.

- Matching halloween costumes. You guys do a whole halloween week thing so that you can do all the fictional duos (and trios when troy was available) that you could think of.

- Whenever you guys go to a theatre to see a movie, you always make sure you’ll have plenty of time afterwards to get something to eat and talk incessantly about it. It’s one of your guys’ favorite ways to decompress, especially when finals season rolls around.

- You guys go to a fair amount of conventions together, and whenever you cosplay, he’s always even more obsessed with you than usual. Typically you guys end up matching, (Howl + Sophie, Zelda + Link, etc) and he genuinely just thinks you’re so cool and so pretty.

#x reader #community hcs #community x reader #abed nadir #abed x reader #community #x reader requests #abed nadir hcs #requests

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tarrenterror25 · 1 year

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Marvel Ulysses Klaue - Bringin’ Home the Rain by @the-eyes-of-andyserkis

The Last of Us Joel Miller - Impetuous by @inklore - Ain’t No Sunshine Part 2: Crazy by @sunflowersteves - Just the Tip by @toxicanonymity - Reckless by @psychedelic-ink

The Batman Alfred Pennyworth - Until We Meet Again by @eupheme - The Gentleman by @stargirlfics Bruce Wayne/Batman - Iron by @stargirlfics

Star Wars Kino Loy - I Want You to Show Me Weak by @tarabyte3 Din Djarin - Only if for a Night by @saradika

Luther: The Fallen Sun David Robey - The Devil Makes Us Sin by @tarabyte3

I think I got everything! These are all smut because I’m a whore, but they all have great stories and plots! I also didn’t think I was reading so much Joel but uhhh apparently I did this past month! There’s some stuff I saved that I just haven’t gotten around to reading yet! The last couple of weeks of March kicked my ass!

🌹 SOME REVIEWS UNDER THE CUT 🌹

Bringin’ Home the Rain - Chapter 3 was posted this month! The masterlist is here! The characterization of Klaue in this fic is spot on and this chapter was quite steamy! Reader in this is portrayed as a complete badass! This most recent chapter solidifies that.

Ain’t No Sunshine: Crazy - So this is part 2 and can be read as a standalone. It’s got jealous Joel and some angst! (Love me some angst). I love how Joel’s emotional turmoil is written and how it leads up to the end!

Until We Meet Again - This is part of the Penny For Your Thoughts series which I’ll link here. This installment is an Alfred POV of the first chapter and serves as a prequel to the series. The way it’s written is very romantic! Alfred’s POV is so well-written combined with the pining. It’s very moving!

The Gentleman - Chapter 4 was posted this month! This whole series is very sweet and sexy! I’ve linked it here! As you read it, I HIGHLY recommend doing so with the playlist because it really adds to the tone of the story! This most recent chapter was very heartwarming and adds an element of danger!

The Devil Makes Us Sin - Alright. This one is not for the faint of heart! Tags include things like manipulation and blackmail as the character is a really bad dude. Chapters 1 and 2 were posted this month so this one has just started! It’s a very suspenseful read so far and I can tell it’s going to keep me on the edge of my seat!

#tarren reads #march 2023 #fic recs #tarren reviews

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lobsterlistening · 4 months

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There is something missing from media recently

Weekly playlist and a little more...

My playlist for this week- did not end up posting it on Monday because it did not feel complete. I thought I wanted more songs on the playlist, but I have decided that the playlist does not have to be 10 songs. Clearly making this up as I go.

About the playlist - listen in any order, I have mostly listened to it straight through but i do not think that is as important for this playlist. To me this playlist conveys how I have been feeling while coming into my wanting for a creative outlet, about wanting something more but not necessarily more grand. Not necessarily the lyrics, but the way the music feels to me.

A Shoutout? (Not sure what to call this)

Book Club Radio

I am just dipping my toes into this group or movement so I am not fully informed on everything that is happening here, but all I can say is man I love this. This energy towards art is amazing, the music is infectious and alive. The video linked here featuring the DJ and musician Tinzo is incredible. I put my big headphones on and listened to the whole thing through just bobbing my head in my kitchen. This is the kind of music you can just get lost in.

I can not wait to listen to more.

youtube

#spotify #music recs #music blog #blog #indie music #90s music #musicindustry #80s music #technomusic #house music #book club radio #radio #live music #Youtube

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finishwhatyoustarted-event · 7 months

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Tools Tuesday - Motivation to Start

Tools Tuesday is a biweekly part of the Finish What You Started event where I share various resources I have found to help everyone complete their WIP. Have a resource you want to share? Send it in a message and I'll take a look!

It is the third week of the event so it's time for another Tools Tuesday! Today is about motivation to start and setting easy goals to keep the momentum going. I'll alternate themes of resources and motivation throughout the event. (Apologies for this one being a few days late on here!)

Starting a project can be the scariest part. Good news! If you're participating in this event, you've already completed that step! But finishing is daunting, especially for long projects with no end in sight.

When you have a big project, especially one that you may have started and put down years ago, it can be intimidating to pick it back up. Give yourself a few minutes to review what you already have done. Read through the last part you wrote, read your notes, check the pattern, etc. If you need to, make notes about what you have, where you remember you wanted to go, and what is inspiring you now. That scene you got stuck on might make sense now, or you see another angle you could draw that tricky pose from. You could even go in a whole new direction.

When you're ready to work, it can help to do some warmup stretches, especially for artists and sewers, but writers, musicians, and others craftspeople benefit from a good warmup stretch too! If you're on the discord, check the general resources channel for wrist stretches. And stretch during breaks! This is a stretch guide I keep on my phone, to remind me to loosen up. {made by @/tizzymcwizzy}

[Image ID, full in ALT: a series of stretches illustrated by a pink human figure, to stretch the hands, arms, and upper body. End ID.]

If it's not distracting, set the mood for your work with an applicable playlist or soundscape. Make sure you won't be interrupted or distracted during your work time by silencing notifications and minimizing other windows. Let yourself focus on this one thing.

When you do start, set a small goal. It can be word count based or time based, whatever makes sense for your project. Make it very achievable: maybe just five minutes or 100 words. The thrill of reaching that goal can help carry you through another 5 minutes, another 100 words. If you struggle just to get through that goal, congratulate yourself on making your session goal! You can go do something else now. Decreasing the pressure on yourself can help get creative energy flowing. When you make your goal consistently, you can up it, but not too much.

There's a famous anecdote that whenever author Terry Pratchett sat down to write, he set a goal of 400 words. Whether he wrote more or not, he did his 400. By the time of his death, Terry Pratchett had written and published over 40 novels.

If you want help from others also working on wips, come join the discord! We have a space for accountability buddies to help keep you on track and a place to write during timed sprints, as well as many resources. This link should not expire! https://discord.com/invite/ZPVF9U6uRE

What gets you motivated to work on your wip? Do you have any tricks that always work for you? Share them with your fellow participants in the notes or reblogs!

#finish what you started 2023 #finishwhatyoustarted2023 #motivation #tools tuesday

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flyingraijin · 2 years

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Like Silk | Chapter IV

IS THIS YOUR BABY? IF NOT, DON'T STEAL IT!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x reader

Warning: Spiderman au, swearing, some more lil sprinkles of backstory, robot babies that are creepy asf, all characters are 18 years or older

Word Count: 6304

Part Four of Thirty - Chapters come out every 2 weeks to 1 month

Note: So I didn't update two days ago like I said I was gonna. But I'm updating today. Chapter 5 is now out on AO3

Related links: Masterlist + Taglist + Playlist + AO3

You end up being much later for class than you might have liked. So late, actually, that you don’t even have time to stop off at the bathroom before you head to your homeroom. As you slide open the massive door to the classroom, you’re left only to keep your head ducked and pray that the furious scrubbing you’d given your face on the walk over had erased any tear tracks left on your cheeks.

Fortunately for you, there are still a number of seats sitting empty in the classroom when you enter it, despite the time, so all eyes are not on you as you shuffle your way between the rows of desks and flop down into your own chair, letting your bag thump to the floor at your feet.

So far, your morning has been complete ass. For a multitude of reasons. And there’s an awful sick feeling churning around in the pit of your stomach that tells you things will probably only get worse from here.

Running into Midoriya on the train first thing in the morning after you’d left your house had not been a good omen for you. After his confession last night, you were left feeling even more on edge around him than normal. And that unease had unsettled you enough that when you accidentally bumped into Bakugou on your way up to the UA campus, you’d snapped up the bait he’d thrown for you at the first chance you got, with none of your usual thought towards the idea of being mature.

You’re still fuming over the situation. Bakugou’s hissed words continue to play like a broken record in your head, repeating themselves again and again and again, and you can’t help but glare as hard as humanly possible over Midoriya’s empty desk and right at the back of his stupidly blond, stupidly spiky-haired head, where he sits lounging like a smug-fucking-bastard at his own desk.

You want to throw something at him. Something very heavy. However, for once in a blue moon, Mr Aizawa is actually here before the bell, and you don’t think he’d take very kindly to having one of his students knocked unconscious by a textbook to the head right in front of him. Even if said student is the most self-righteous, stuck up, major, raging, incentive douchebag to ever walk this earth.

‘What the fuck even in his problem anyway?’ you think angrily to yourself as you sit glaring, quietly hoping your eyes will somehow burn a hole right through his thick skull. It’d been him who started it, of course. He had approached you, not the other way around. You’d just been minding your damn business before he swooped in, riding atop his stupid-fucking wave of a grudge from way back before elementary school, all high off the idea of making himself your biggest problem. “ I saw you sitting with that damn nerd on the train,” had been his exact words, which he’d spat right in your face once he’d pulled you from the throngs of people walking into school. “ He looks like shit, as usual. Fuckin’ hilarious.”

You still don’t know why you’d snapped back at him, telling him to shut the fuck up. But you don't think you regret it. You definitely don’t regret getting to see the flash of surprise that has sparked through his crimson eyes.

“You finally give in and suck his dick, then?” was his reply. “Wouldn’t be the first fuckin’ time.”

Just thinking about those words sends a chill through your stomach now. You don’t care. At least, you shouldn’t . Because it’s fucking Bakugou, of all people, the one guy who has a whole fucking reputation built on how much of an ass he is.

It does hurt though. Probably more because it does come from Bakugou, of all people. It hurts more than it should.

Thank goodness, before you psych yourself up so much that you do actually lob your textbook at his head, the classroom door slides open once again. Your attention turns at the sound and then quickly you duck your head down as much as you can when you catch a glimpse of forest green hair. As much as you’re sick of Bakugou right now, you’re even less prepared to deal with Midoriya and his friends. Especially after you have a fleeting suspicion that Midoriya might actually have seen you crying when you’d rushed past him in the hallway earlier. You refuse to make eye contact with him as he weaves his way through the desks before flopping into the one in front of you. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, really, especially when you can feel another gaze burning into the side of your head. Uraraka is glaring at you, as she always does any time she sees you, and you're almost tempted to throw her the middle finger because she's really only adding insult to the injury of your already shitty day.

But then the bells ring out through the classroom and Mr Aizawa slowly gets to his feet. What little chatter that could be heard throughout the room dies off abruptly.

"Alright, settle down," your teacher grumbles out, as monotone as ever. You raise your head slightly to look at him properly and it's only now that you notice it - there's a huge cardboard box standing on the edge of his desk, large enough to easily fit at least three of your classmates comfortably inside it. There's no writing on the front, nothing to indicate what it may be for, but you can feel your heart sinking anyway as something deep down tells you it has everything to do with the project that you're partnered with Midoriya on.

You're not the only one who's noticed either. A chorus of whispers rustled through the students in your class, all of them eyeing up the box just as you are, curious expressions on their faces.

They shut up pretty soon though, when Mr Aizawa shoots everyone a dirty look.

"As you guys learned yesterday," he begins, glaring around at everyone. "You will all be participating in a project that will run from now, over the Christmas holidays and then on to the end of the year. This is an ongoing thing and it is not "- he shoots a very distinct look at Denki Kaminari, who sits in the middle aisle of desks, - "something you can just do at the last minute. Constant engagement is required throughout the process and you will be graded on whether or not you meet this requirement."

There are a number of small huffs that can be heard throughout the classroom, a few students scowling deeply and flopping back in their chairs. You almost feel sorry for them, but then you remember that you are going to have to spend consistent hours working with your partner. All your pity turns inwards.

"You were assigned your partners yesterday," Aizawa continues, sparing not a single glance for the people busy grumbling. "I trust that you all remember who you're working with because I don not have the time or patience to read it all out again."

He pauses, glaring around at his students and, thankfully, no one raises their hand to ask for confirmation. You see Mr Aizawa's shoulders visibly relaxing and then your entire mood perks up when he reaches out to pull the huge cardboard box a little closer towards him.

“Up until this point,” he starts, “UA has never placed much emphasis on home economics. This is a science school, and the primary focus throughout your three years here has been to prepare you all to enter your chosen STEM fields following graduation. However, as has been tradition for a number of years now, in an attempt to provide you with at least some basic life skills before you leave, you will be completing one final project for your home economics course.”

A number of your classmate look round, shooting confused looks to one another. You just roll your eyes, already completely over the entire proceedings. Mr Aizawa too, looks entirely bored.

“Frankly, I have always felt it’s a bit late to try and teach you soft skills during the final third of your last year of school,” he continues on, looking around the class. His gaze lingers on a certain few heads before he looks away. “You lot, especially, I think are past the point of no return. However, this project is a curriculum requirement and so we run it nonetheless.”

There are a few snorts to be heard around the classroom. Sero in particular actually chuckles. My Aizawa just shakes his head.

“I digress however, since I have seen some miraculous transformations come for students attitudes with the completion of this project. Now, does anyone have any questions before I get into the parameters of what you’ll be doing?”

No hands go up and you say a silent thank you that there aren’t any godforsaken souls within your class who are willing to drag the suspense out any longer. Mr Aizawa nods and then turns around. You watch curiously as he digs one hand into the large cardboard box, the air within the classroom suddenly going tense and suspenseful. Your mind flashes with a thousand possibilities, all ranging from building your own AI to concocting the cure for cancer to designing a new engine for next year's Formula 1 season.

But all your hopes are dashed when Mr Aizawa removes his hand and pulls out…

A plastic baby?

You feel your heart sinking immediately, tight down the length of your body until its puddled somewhere near your toes as your mind screams out fuck no! because you've heard of this project. And suddenly any hopes you'd had about maybe not having such an awful time with Midoriya as your partner are stomped into oblivion beneath Mr Aizawa's boot.

"This," your teacher says, holding up the baby for everyone in the class to see properly. "Will be your project for the next four months. You will need to take care of this mechanical baby."

He seems to feel you glaring at him like you're trying ignite every one of the brain cells in his head because he pauses and then gives a very stern look.

"I'd like to stress that the partners you've all been given are non-negotiable," he says and it's in his dont-you-fucking-dare-argue-with-me voice. "They have been chosen for a very specific reason and if you don't like your partner, you will just have to suck it up and deal with it."

You don't push him, although in your head you’re swearing up and down about all the horrible things you could do. Your hands ball into fists against the wooden top of your desk and then you turn your focus to Midoriya and wonder if you focus hard enough, you could cause him to spontaneously combust.

Stupid Midoriya, you think to yourself as your eyes trace the outline of his dark curly hair. Stupid project, study baby . You huff out a sigh and cross your arms angrily over your chest, still glaring. This assignment is so unrealistic anyway. There's no way you'd ever have a kid with that fuckhead, much less do anything that could result in having a child.

Although , another voice at the back of your mind whispers as you notice a flash of pale blond moving in front of Midoriya, the partners could be worse. You could be with Bakugou.

The thought just about makes you gag.

"The aim of this project is to try and simulate actual parenthood as closely as possible,” Mr Aizawa continues. “These babies are an incredibly advanced technology, engineered specifically for us by some students right here in our school. This will not be an easy assignment, I assure you, these things have been programmed to be as temperamental as possible.”

“So,” a new voice pipes up, one that you recognise as Denki Kaminari. You glance in his direction to see that he’s rocking back on his chair, head tilted to the side as he stares up at your teacher with an expression of mild apprehension. “Do they, like, cry and stuff?” Beside him , Eijirou Kirishima also looks petrified, eyeing the baby in Mr Aizawa’s grasp as if it’s some kind of bomb. You fight down the urge to laugh.

“The point of this project is to teach you how to look after something that is totally dependent on you," Aizawa replies. "Babies need everything from you but can’t communicate it, which is one of the main problems you will run into if you ever become a parent. So in answer to your question, Kaminari, yes, they will cry. For a multitude of reasons. Your biggest struggle will probably be figuring out what they need."

Kaminari slumps back, looking dejected. "Dude, I'm not ready to be a parent," he mumbles out, although it's loud enough for most of the class to hear him. There are a few resounding giggles.

On some level you agree with him, although you make sure not to let it show at all in your expression. Even despite who you have to do the project with, the assignment itself is daunting. Parenthood is not something you've ever taken a fuck ton of time to think about, beyond the occasional throwing a baby doll around when you were a toddler. You've been goal oriented since you first knew what a goal was and your goal -

Well, it's never been 'to be a mom'.

As you stare up at the baby Mr Aizawa is holding, taking in its - slightly creepy - realistically wrinkled face and the way its tiny body looks even smaller in the arms of your teacher, you can't help but feel…

You can't help but feel nervous.

As if he knows exactly what you're thinking, Midoriya spins in his chair the very second your face begins to crumble. You catch his deep green eyes beneath the fluff of his curls and yet, for one of the first times in years, you don't snap at him for looking at you. The pair of you hold each other's gaze for a long second before Midoriya offers you a reassuring smile. And to your surprise, it actually does its job.

"It'll be fine," Midoriya says quietly, so no one else can hear him through the rounds of chatter that are circling through the rest of your classmates. "It'll be exactly like playing house the way we used to when we were kids."

You snort bitterly at that, an eyebrow twitching. "So we're gonna be a big happy family?" you ask him, tilting your head a little to the side. By the look on Midoriya's face, he seems to understand how absurd the idea is. This little game of house couldn't get more dysfunctional if it tried and it hasn't even begun yet. But he smiles through it, even though you know that's exactly what he's thinking.

"Probably not," he says, but you can still see the sparkle in his bright green eyes. Something inside you sings. "But just… don't worry. It'll fine, okay? Promise."

"You can’t promise shit," you tell him grumpily, hastily looking away from him before your heart can do any more stupid things. "And I wasn't worrying."

He doesn't believe you and he actually laughs about it, prompting a fiery blush to rage through the skin of your cheeks. "Yeah sure," he tells you and then turns back around to face the front of the classroom again.

Unfortunately, Mir Aizawa starts speaking before you can snap back at him, so you're left to glare heartedly at the back of his head once again.

Stupid project, you think, Stupid baby. Stupid Midoriya.

Stupid stupid Midoriya.

"Unfortunately for you children," Mr Aizawa says, raising a hand to bring silence to the room once again. "Technology isn't advanced enough to create a entirely lifelike robot babies just yet. In reality, there are a hundreds of different reasons why a child might start crying. However, for the purpose of this project, there are only four."

He holds up four of his fingers for the class to see.

"The first," he begins, "is because they need their nappy changed." He reaches into the box again and pulls out a small zip-up pouch. "This is your baby bag. Inside if everything you will need to complete this project. Including reusable cloth nappies." He sets the baby down on the surface of the desk and opens up the bag, pulling out a bundle of white cloth.

"The dolls have sensors built into them which connect to sensors in the nappies," he explains. "These sensors will read whether the nappy is dirty or clean. Dirty nappies cannot be used more than once within a twenty four hour period. If you do use on, your baby will throw a fit and it will constitute a considerable deduction in points." He glares round the class, his dark eyes settling on every student for a millisecond before flitting away. "So don't do that. The nappy will reset after twenty fours hours once it has been used. You need to keep track of this." He puts the ball of clothes back in the pouch and then swivels the entire thing to the side to show everyone a small pocket holding four baby bottles.

"The second reason your baby may cry is because it's hungry. Now, you won't actually feed them anything. These bottles are all empty. However "- he pulls one of the bottles from the pocket and twists it to show a strip of four lights that run up one side - "these will show you how full each bottle is. As the bottle is used, the lights will deplete and once the one at the bottom turns red, you will know the bottle is completely empty."

A hand goes up. It’s Uraraka, who's looking a little like she’s vibrating in her seat, in her eagerness to ask a question. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and look away.

"Sir," Uraraka starts once Mr Aizawa nods in her direction. "Do the bottles also reset after twenty four hours? Or do we have to do something else to refill them?

"Good question," Mr Aizawa says and this time you do roll your eyes when a look of pride washes over Uraraka's face. "The bottles do reset, but it's after six hours instead of twenty four. You only have four bottles so you should arrange a system to cycle them, to ensure you can always feed your baby when it needs it."

As he puts the bottle back into its pocket, you chance another glance over at Uraraka. Only to be surprised when you find that she's already glaring right at you . Your gaze meets her for a moment and your eyes narrow as you try to figure out what the fuck her problem might be this time, besides her usual shitty attitude of course. But then you catch the way her eyes flickered briefly away from you to the boy sitting in the desk in front of you and your face curls into a smirk when you realise. Oh she's so jealous .

You flash her your most smug expression and make sure she sees it before you look away once again, switching your attention back to Mr Aizawa, who's picking up the baby again. Even as he raises it for the class to see, you can still feel her heated gaze on the side of your face and your heart sings with triumph.

"The third reason that your baby may cry," Mr Aizawa says, continuing with his explanation. "Is that they need to be held, or rocked." He gives Kaminari and Sero a sharp look. "There is a correct way to hold a baby. And if I see anyone swing swing their's around like a hooligan, I will fail you immediately." He shifts the baby in his arms, cradling it with one hand behind its head and the other arm tucked around its body. " This is how you need to hold your babies. It may seem complicated now but I'm sure you'll all get the hang of it relatively quickly. In the case of the third reason, you will hold your baby and gently rock it back and forth"- he demonstrates -"which should help to calm them down. The babies all have built-in motion sensors, so they will know if you're doing it properly. They also have audio sensors, which leads to the fourth reason they might cry. And you all need to pay attention very carefully for this one…"

It feels like the entire class leans forward, everyone hanging onto Mr Aizawa's every word. He shifts the baby in his arms, adjusting his grip before raising his eyes again to look around the classroom.

"Your babies need affection. Essentially, you need to talk to your kid."

He holds up a hand before questions can start rocketing, the energy within the classroom beginning to buzz as it becomes clear it's getting near to the end of the briefing. "Let me explain and then I'll send you all off to go and set up your babies. The babies are equipped with sensors all over their bodies. They also have recording devices in their backs." He turns the baby around to show the class. "To set your baby, you need to press this button here and then allow it to record you saying its name, as well as a few other phrases so it can learn to recognise your voice. Both you and your partner will do this. It will take a few minutes for your baby to calibrate and then the clock will start. From then on, your baby will record everything you say and do with it and will store that knowledge. At the end of the project, the chip inside the babies will be collected and then your progress will be graded out of 100 by an AI. Does everyone understand?"

There's a chorus of 'yes sirs’ throughout the class and Aizawa nods. "Do not forget," he says and his voice is serious as he looks around the room. "These babies are switched on constantly. You do not get a break from them, as with normal children. Even when they're asleep, they're recording. Am I clear?"

The affirmations ring out again. Aizawa turns to put the baby down on his desk once more. However, instead of reaching inside the box or the pouch again, he slides a large binder across the desk towards him and flips it open. As he begins to flick through it, searching for whatever he needs, you notice a twitch out of your peripheral vision. In front of you,Midoriya is backwards, just a little, not enough to be noticed by Mr Aizawa. However, when he turns his head to hiss something in your direction, you realise it's intentional.

"Have you got any name ideas yet?"

You don't. You haven't thought about it at all yet and even now as you try to wrack your brains, nothing comes to mind. You shake your head at Midoriya, frowning slightly.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see what the baby is like," you tell him quietly and he nods in agreement.

"I wonder if it'll look like either of us."

You can't help but snort at Midoriya's musing, trying your best to stifle the genuine bubble of laughter that rises in your throat. "These are plastic robots," you try to tell him sternly, however, the upward tilt at the corner of your mouth is giving everything away. "I doubt it'll look anything like either of us."

"It's nice to dream," Midoriya shoots back, however you don't miss the small smile that's stretching across his own face.

"Maybe we adopted," you tell him with a shrug of one shoulder. "Maybe your swimmers weren't swimmery enough."

That makes him laugh properly and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to stop his giggles from wringing out around the classroom. As it is, the nearest heads to you turn to eye you and him curiously, and you immediately purse your lips and force down your smile, in an attempt to look cool and composed once again.

Thankfully, Midoriya can't come at you with a comeback because Mr Aizawa raises his head, finally having located the thing he was looking for. He pulls a stack of papers from the folder and holds one up for you all to see - it's crisp and clean, evidently freshly printed, and covered with sprawls of neat black letters. You have a feeling you know exactly exactly what it is, and when Mr Aizawa opens his mouth to speak again, he confirms your suspicions.

"This is your baby's birth certificate," he announces. "You will each get one along with your baby and a bag. And you will all fill it out, with both you and your partner's details. I will be taking all of these back tomorrow morning once they're completed, so we can register your babies in our system. And I expect you to take this seriously." He gives Kaminari and Sero a purposeful look. "Try your best to think of this as real parenthood because if you do, there's a chance you'll be slightly better prepared in the future, if you ever do become parents." He sets the paper down and you tense immediately, realising you've finally reached the end of the explanation.

"I'm going to hand out your babies now," Mr Aizawa says, "along with everything you'll need. You'll have an hour and a half now to get yourselves sorted and then you'll go to the next period at 10. When I call your names, please can both you and your partner come up to collect your things. Then you're free to go outside and begin setting the babies up. Now - Iida and Yaoyorozu…"

You relax back into your seat and he begins to list off the partnerships. This project has turned out to be absolutely nothing like what you'd expected and if you're honest with yourself, you're pretty happy about it. Despite the fact that you now have to co-parent with Midoriya, this will probably turn out to be a lot easier than having to actively collaborate with the kid on classwork.

As you lounge in your chair, you hear the scrape of another being pushed back and then a figure is weaving through the tables towards you. A smile grows on your face when the person sits herself right on the surface of your desk, one leg crossing over the other.

"I am dreading this whole experience," Kyouka Jirou tells you dramatically as she glares out across the classroom. "I thought I could get away with just doing the whole thing myself while that dunce face just goofed off. But now I actually have to work with him."

You briefly remember the previous day, when Mr Aizawa had announced that Kyouka would be paired with Denki for this project, and the smile on your face grows wider.

"Aww," you tease, your eyes flicking upwards briefly to watch as Uraraka and Shinso rise to go collect their child. "Are you really going to dash poor Kami’s hopes so quickly? I'm sure he's delighted with this project."

Kyouka points a sharp black nail at you, her face dark red. "Don't you dare start," she hisses. "I know your opinions on this and I'm telling you right now you're wrong ."

You just laugh at her threat because you know her way too well for it to work. "You can't even deny it anymore," you tell her smugly. "That kid is head over heels in love with you and now you have to raise a child together. He's going to be so fucking giddy."

"Are we talking about Kaminari?" a new voice pipes up and you and Kyouka look up to see Mina Ashido grinning down at the pair of you. Her hands are on her hips and there's a triumphant look sparkling in her dark eyes as her gaze flicks from Jirou's grace over to yours and back again.

You smirk up at her smugly because you and her share the exact same opinions on the topic of Kyouka's life. "We are," you confirm for her. "You wanna take bets on how long it takes for him to make some joke about them having a kid?"

"Ooh, of course" Mina giggles, kicking her feet in amusement. She twirls one of her curls around her finger, sparkling pink nail flashing as she seems to think for a second. "I say… a red bean bun on less than ten minutes? Plus a soda if if he says something about it being fate."

You smirk up at her. "I'll bet on less than five minutes. Kaminari doesn't have that kind of restraint."

Her eyes glint and she slaps your outstretched palm. "Done."

Between you two, Kyouka gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "You two are so full of shit," she says, shaking her head. "He's not gonna -"

"Hey, Jirou!" There comes a yell from across the classroom and the three of you look up to see none other than Kaminari making his way between the desks in your direction. Kyouka cuts off her own voice when she sees him, her arms raising to cross over her chest and you can already feel your own smile growing, cruel and smug. That kid is way too predictable .

"What're the odds, huh?" Kaminari grins and leans one arm casually on the desk opposite your own. He's trying to be smooth, probably attempting one of the tricks that Sero taught him at some point to try and help his game. But he's also blushing. Furiously . And you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your cackle of laughter.

"You and I…" Kaminari continues, pointing to Kyouka them himself. "Us two, having a child together. This must be a message from the universe, huh? That we're meant to be ."

You hear a muffled snort from somewhere behind him and glance over his shoulder to see Sero and Kirishima just about peeing their pants with laughter over at their own desks. From your other side, Mina sighs and your triumph grows when you realise she's going to be buying you lunch today.

"I mean, seriously!" Kaminari is still growing, obviously to the grave he's digging himself, and how Kyouka's glare is getting more and more violent. "Really, we might as well just get married now haha, what the point in waiting amirite?"

You honestly think Kyouka is about to snap his neck, and you don't doubt she really would have if Mr Aizawa didn't call her and Kaminari's names right then. You offer her a cheeky grin as she hops off your desk, to which she replies with a stiff middle finger and then storms off towards the front of the classroom, leaving Kaminari to stare blankly at the empty spot she'd just vacated.

Mina leans over to give him a back on the back. "Good effort," she tells him, although her tone is a little salty. "Although could you not have just waited like, nine and a half more minutes?"

Kaminari looks confused but Mina shoos him off before he can ask questions. And then, before she can spin around to start trying to back out of her deal with you, her own name is called, along with Todoroki’s, and she's forced to head up to the front to the classroom too, a pout heavy on her lips.

You lean forward on your desk again, watching her go with a smug smile on your face as you begin to dream of the bean bun you'll be getting come lunch time. However, as your elbows slide across the wood and your chin goes to rest against the cool surface, you make eye contact with the boy in front of you. Again.

"What'd you want?" you ask him, although it's not nearly as mean as it's supposed to be.

Midoriya just shakes his head and looks away. "Oh nothing;" he says, but he's smiling slightly. And you have a feeling he must've just seen the whole exchange. Your snort ends up muffled in your crossed arms.

You and him are one of the last pairs to be called, with only Bakugou and Asui left sitting at their seats. The rest of the desks have been vacated and when your names finally rings out, you have plenty of room to hoist your backpack up onto your shoulder as you move through the classroom, heading up towards Mr Aizawa’s desk. You have plenty of room but you decide to ignore it in favour of head straight up the aisle and knocking Bakugou's feet down from where they’re propped up on the surface of his desk as hard as you can.

You don't apologise even when you hear him let out a sharp growl, and as you flounce up to the front, you make a show of not acknowledging him either. It's probably very petty and childish, but it feels good to do, even when Mr Aizawa gives you as look when you finally go to stand in front of him.

"That was unnecessary," he tells you. You just shrug in return.

"I disagree."

"Just try not to cause trouble," your teacher sighs. Then he looks past you to where Midoriya has come to stand at your shoulder. "Between the two of you either," he adds and his expression is stern. "You were paired together for a reason and I trust you understand that."

You struggle not to roll your eyes and give him a tired look in return. "Are we really the kind of people who'd cause trouble?" you ask, sarcastic to the point that you can taste it on your tongue.

Thankfully Mr Aizawa doesn't miss that and he gives you a small shake of his head. "Very funny. Now…" he pulls the cardboard box towards him, which seems like a significantly easier job than when he'd first opened it earlier that morning. "Here is your bag," he says, reaching in and pulling out a pouch identical to the one he'd used in his demonstration. He hands it off to Midoriya behind you, who shoulders it with ease.

"And here…" he continues, reaching into the box again, "is your baby."

He gives the baby to you this time and you have barely a second after take it to stare down into its hard plastic face. Then your own expression crumbles.

"Are you fucking with me?"

Because the baby -

The baby looks like you and Midoriya.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

It's got a head of wild midnight green curls, the texture and shape of which matches your classmate's so perfectly it genuinely concerns you. You recognise Midoriya's eye shape too, round and wide with slightly downturned corners and thick heavy lashes. It's your own irises that stare back up at you though, glassy and unblinking, and way too fucking realistic.

The baby has your skin tone too, matched perfectly, and you're almost inclined to hold it out at arms length for a second because while you knew " having a child" with your childhood friend was gonna be bad, you never expected it to be this bad.

"Seriously," you mutter as your eyes rove over the grotesque sight. "What the fuck?"

"Language,” Mr Aizawa says, although it's half-assed. Then he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Look, I know it's a little…"

"Fucking creepy?" you supply and he gives you a scowl.

"Odd ," he says in emphasis. "But with the introduction of this project, it’s become a tradition for the second year robotics lab students to design the babies. We tell them the partners in advance and they all tend to go a little… overboard."

"You don't say," you mutter as you stare down at your baby again. It's not as if it looks bad or anything - in fact, the baby itself looks incredibly realistic, exactly what a hybrid of what you and Midoriya might be. It's just…

"It's like this makes it real," you say, mostly to yourself, as you hold the baby up in the air. Even the weight mimics that of an actual newborn. "I… dammit, Deku!"

Midoriya starts when you turn to glare at him, eyes going wide as he throws his hands up in defence immediately. "What'd I do?!"

You don't answer him because you don't actually know yourself. You're just looking for someone to blame and despite the fact that he's in exactly the same boat as you are, he's the easiest victim.

"Here's your baby’s birth certificate," Mr Aizawa says, drawing both of your attention again before the atmosphere can thicken any further. "You'll need to complete it in full. And remember to name your baby before you set it up, because it'll need to register both of you saying it's name. There's a panel on the back that'll guide you in calibrating it."

You don't make a move to take the birth certificate, still too busy glaring daggers at the baby that's now balancing on your hip, so Midoriya reaches out instead. He shoots Mr Aizawa a smile of thanks as he does so, which you don't miss. Then the pair of you turn to begin walking towards the classroom door.

"Find somewhere quiet to do the recording," Mr Aizawa calls after you. "You want it to be as clear as possible."

And with that, you and Midoriya step out of the classroom and into the now empty hallway, equipped with a bag, a birth certificate and a robot baby that night as well be your own biological child.

#💙 blue's fics #like silk #izuku midoriya x reader #spidey!deku #spiderman au

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