#teen beach cookie

[mintvine]

are you ready?... ready freddy?... ready steady?... let's GO!!!

#art #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #if you're confused who's who here's a left to right: #raspberry mousse cookie #rose cookie #raspberry cookie #princess cookie #wildberry cookie #blueberry cookie #and then #lime cookie #orange cookie #limeorange #rasprincess #lime cookie x orange cookie #princess cookie x raspberry cookie #teen beach movie #teen beach movie au #teen beach cookie

[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

[stardustloserdoll]

tokio hotel masterlist

all about tokio hotel!

fluff:

jumbie -bill

sleepy head -bill

guitar fun -tom

piercing -tom

i drink your blood and i eat your skin -bill

toms clothes -tom

airplane nerves- tom

secret kisses- bill

bloody kisses- bill

heart shaped cookies- tom

clingy- tom

beach day- tom & bill

i love you- bill

nail polish- tom

camcorder- tom

hello kitty face masks- tom

tinder- bill

the phantom of the opera- bill

celebrity crush- tom

jealous- tom

best friends sister- tom

picnic date- tom

smut:

sleep troubles- tom

please?- tom

so good- tom

pictures of you- tom

something going on- tom

tongue piercing- bill

only one for me- tom

sleepover- tom

bloody night- bill

mine- tom

late- tom

angst:

back to you- tom

the other- tom

talk- bill

break- bill

i don’t hate you- tom

break pt 2- bill

i wait for you- bill

head cannons:

dating bill and tom

tom with a latina/o s/o

tokio hotel x female reader

tom dating a plus sized reader

tom with a teen daughter reader

kaulitz triplets

tom with a teen daughter reader with glasses

christmas with tokio hotel

halloween with y/n kaulitz

bill with a childish s/o

tom with a childish s/o

bill with an outgoing but shy s/o

tom being your step brother

bill with a short s/o

aftercare with tom

bill and reader who have been together since 2007

bill with a s/o who can speak multiple languages

bill with a tall s/o

tom with a s/o who’s scared of spiders

modern tokio hotel x female reader

tom with a short gf

tom with a gf who has bad back pains

tokio hotel x female reader who has curly hair

bill and gustav with a plus sized s/o

tom with a s/o who has adhd

bill x curly haired reader 2b/2c

#bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schäfer

[peacekeeperangel]

Thanks to this chapter I got to indulge in three things I don't usually get the chance to indulge in- Floriography, fashion and horribly embrassing Captain Caviar Cookie.

Come on we've seen Baby Caviar and we've seen Adult Caviar. I wanna hear about his gangly awkward teen years. :P The Beached Mermaid AU belongs to @cosmicwhoreo they're just being nice and letting me play here.

#cookie run kingdom #Peacestorykeeper #captain caviar cookie #black pearl cookie #fanfic

[fourcornerstar]

Random assorted Moral Orel Headcanons:

Moral Orel HCs

Orel:

- Likes to draw comics of Barthalomew- similar to the DC superpets

- Wants to grow up to be either a pastor or an artist. Doesn’t know what an animator or film maker is but is interested in movie production

- Doesn’t like to spend much time outside after the camping trip. Finds comfort in movies, comics and video games.

- He saves up all the money he earned by working for Stephanie to buy a Nintendo system (the show takes place around 2005, so probably a ds)

- His favorite game is Nintendogs, he owns all different versions and loves going on walks with his ‘pet’

- But he thinks Pokemon is satanic.

- Fav movie as a kid is Prince of Egypt

- Veggietales kid.

- Catches himself singing “where is my hairbrush” when he’s looking for something.

- Wears “virginity rocks” merch when he’s a teen. No one can tell if it’s ironic or in sincerity. It’s a bit of both.

- LOVES Paramore when he’s first in his emo phase. Slowly grows to like My Chemical Romance once he fully dips into Emo music.

- As he gets into his teens he has an indie phase- Florence and the Machines is his favorite along with The Mountain Goats and Cage the Elephant. Likes some Hozier, Noah Kahan, They Might Be Giants and Jack Stauber. (this is if we assume their in universe would have access to our discography)

- His favorite extra curricular class is art, which Clay disapproves of, but Orel is really good at it- near prodigy level. Loves painting and chalk pastels in particular

- Hardcore Disney fan. For his graduation he and Christina go to Florida Disney World for the first time

- A Goofy Movie and Goof Troop are his favorite comfort media

- Wants to go to California or Florida for College, secretly is applying to Loyola University or other Christian campuses. Wants to take religious studies with a minor in art.

- Has never been to the beach/seen the ocean in person but has always dreamed of it.

- Quit his scout troop after the hunting trip bc camping would make him spiral into panic attacks. It took him years of exposure therapy to ever go into the woods ever again

- After the camping trip, the go-to family vacation for the Puppingtons would usually be road trips cross country. But it was always awkward and tense, so Orel would spend the majority of the trip reading, listening to music, or playing a card game with Shapey and Block.

- He always lets Shapey or Block win

- Uno was banned in the puppington house because “it wasn’t in English.” But he had no problem playing it at school behind his parents backs

- Is interested in learning other languages, but a bit scared of it. He eventually took ASL courses when he was in college

Shapey and Block:

- Both have an extensive stuffed animal collection, at least where they can hide them under all the storage and mess of his room.

- Tends to steal or borrow Orel’s stuff when no one is home to see. Is particularly fascinated by the viewfinder and Orel’s record player.

- Shapey suffers from night terrors. Orel would comfort him sometimes, other times Block would help.

- Both are Introverted. They helped each other transition to school when they, eventually, went. But they were loners in the class and had trouble assimilating.

- Other than cake, Shapey’s favorite foods are pb and j

- Block really likes cookies and pastries

- Shapey and Block snuck out a lot as kids and teens, sometimes they would go to the corner store, other times they would just wander around town or even up to the nature reserve.

- Christmas is their all time favorite holiday, more so than any other.

- Orel sometimes helps them clear up their shared room so Shapey and Block can actually have a clear space to walk around and play in.

- They steal Clay’s credit card to buy some actual furniture when they’re teens. Clay never brings it up, he probably never noticed.

- Both struggle at keeping a space clean. Struggles with routine, chores and scheduling all through their life, sometimes Orel or even a therapist helps

- Shapey’s favorite Disney movie of all time is Alice in Wonderland

- Block adores Peter Pan, he even went as Peter for halloween 2 years in a row

- Both love adventure movies

- Shapey loves showtunes, favorite musical as a kid was Matilda

- Block finds showtunes kind of annoying, but won’t say anything. Block prefers softer music, indie, folk, country but even LoFi when he discovers it later.

- Both love cooking and baking. They weren’t allowed to learn when they were kids, but when they moved out they read Bloberta’s old recipe books to teach himself. Block preferred online recipes

- Shapey was Diagnosed with ODD and ADHD as a toddler, Orel tries to find some resources at the library to figure out how to help Shapey, at least where he can. Unfortunately, the library is a bit of a dead end. But the constants in Shapey’s life help him a lot.

- They never talk with Clay. They are complete strangers to one another. Shapey and Block consider Orel to be the closest thing they have to a father figure

- When everyone is grown up; Shapey gives a speech as best man at Orel and Christina’s wedding that makes everyone cry

Bloberta:

- Has an extensive record collection of her favorite bands from when she was a teenager.

- Clay has pestered her to get rid of it but she can’t bear to part with it. She keeps it hidden in the dresser and closet alongside her other unmentionables.

- Loves doo-wop, 60s pop, rock and roll and even some modern punk and metal. Doesn’t actually like listening to Christian rock but will put it on to be a “good influence”

- Was interested in student council and politics herself before she married Clay, but was pressured out of it bc “godly women let men take the lead” (ew)

- Her mom forced her to babysit as a first job when she was a teenager and she despised it.

- When she’s home alone she likes to put on romcoms such as Pretty Woman or Dirty Dancing. But she’ll mute the volume and block out the windows so no one can hear or see her.

- But more often then not they leave her crying wishing for something better. One day after watching one of her movies she locked Clay out of the house for a week because she couldn’t bear to even look at him.

- She’s a lot more supportive of Orel going to an out of state college than his father. She doesn’t want him to feel trapped like she does.

Clay

- Took ballroom dance in high school- is an amazing dancer but doesn’t like showing off.

- Has Irish ancestry, his great grandparents emigrated during the great famine.

- Likes to read when he gets the chance- favorite book is Catcher in the Rye or In Cold Blood (yes, they are supposed to be red flag books, remember who we’re talking about)

- Loves true crime- extremely fascinated by serial killers and mysteries.

- He likes movies, but rarely is ever able to put them on. But he likes Wolf of Wall Street and Fight Club (all the red flag films) (Call me By Your Name and Beauty and the Beast when he’s in private, would never watch them unless he’s completely alone) (once again, RED FLAGS)

- Believes all colleges are satanic propaganda. At least that’s what he told himself as he got older. When he was a teen thought about art school but could never afford it on his own.

- Never graduated with a full 4 year degree, but out of high school he was in and out of trade or secondary schools. He tried nursing, mechanic/auto shop, accounting, and technician work and hated everything. Bloberta suggested politics and somehow he had enough charisma and writing prowess to sell competency.

- Loves Queen. Could listen to any album any day- but has a particular soft spot for “I want to Break Free” and “Somebody To Love” has made him sob uncontrollably . He puts on Queen when he’s driving alone.

- Loves to drive. Before he started drinking it was his one escape. Sometimes he would just take his keys and a handful of his father’s cash and drive off for a few days without telling anyone. He’s been all over the country, but particularly loves to see the Grand Canyon or even up north near Niagara and the lakes.

- Even after he got married he would drive off on a bender for a week or two not to be seen. Bloberta never brings it up. He only HAD to stop when Orel was born.

Reverend/Rod Putty

- Never imagined himself as a pastor, when he was younger he was more interested in the hippie subculture. But he’s good at talking. He originally tried his hand at standup comedy, and that was a total flop. So when it came time for him to settle on a major/career he went religious… Partially to dodge the draft.

- Agnostic leaning. He believes in a God, but struggles with connection.

- Grew up in the south, but moved to the midwest in his teens. Sometimes his accent slips through when he’s tired.

- Scarily good at poker. Feels very torn about this skill.

- Banned from at least 4 casinos in a 100 mile radius.

-

Stephanie

- Was a straight A student all through school, but decided against University for financial reasons and pressure, she goes to the community college closest to Moralton. She dreams when she saves up enough she could go to a music or art college

- Had a band once but all her band mates moved away. She does try to pursue music herself. Has an album lined up but she doesn’t feel ready to put it into the world yet.

- A friend from out of state gave her her first tattoo in his garage. Since then she’s been interested in learning but doesn’t know how to practice back in Moralton. Is saving up for a machine.

- Hates the cold and cold weather, she’s always bundled up when it hits below 60 and it always complaining about how cold it is until the weather warms up

- But she loves rainy days.

- Her mom tried to sign her up for an after school Christian youth program but Stephanie always ditched to go hang out around town with Kim and others.

- She uploads song covers to Youtube when she has time, and has amassed a huge following

- She likes snapchat as well, she can keep in touch with out of state or online friends easier, it makes her feel more connected to people in similar situations

- Her first guitar wasn’t the best quality, but it’s one of her favorites for the sound, she covered the entire face with stickers and intricate drawings

#moral orel #clay puppington #bloberta puppington #orel puppington #reverend putty #headcanon #most of this is projection lol

[amorchai]

ice cream date with robin.

pairings: robin buckley x female!reader

word count: 695

“i’ll pick you up at eight,” steve starts once his car comes to a stop, the car park by the beach on a nice summer hawkin’s evening. when robin had asked you out, you didn’t expect steve harrington to be the chaperone. but here you were.

robin scoffs, glancing at you before replying, “nine.” steve turns in his driver’s seat, either of you in the back seat and a firm glare set on his best friend, “eight thiry.” “done deal,” replies robin, nudging your shoulder before opening the door to get out.

robin had planned the whole date for you, after months of finding the perfect time to go out, you were excited it was finally the night. you had known her in high school, a ‘hi’ here and there, some ‘harmless’ compliments as you both were unaware of the crush either of you had.

once you had entered family video, searching for a late-night comedy, robin was the shyest her best friend had ever seen, and steve had to step in and help out. it was an odd friend group you wrapped yourself in, robin from school, playboy steve harrington and his ex-girlfriend nancy, along with her now-boyfriend jonathan, metalhead eddie munson and a group of teenagers. but you quickly fit in.

your love for movies is where you and robin most connected, the final ones at movie night while robin tried to hide her feelings – not knowing you reciprocated them just as strongly and once you had confessed, each of you had been planning a date ever since.

with robin’s work, and your college, it was hard.

her hand brushes yours and you think maybe when the sun vanishes and there’s less people, you could hold it. but for now, the brushes sent electricity across your body. “first stop,” robin starts, looking up to a small ice cream shop, filled with little to no people.

“you know me too well,” you state as you both step in the room, tiled floors and ice cream posters all over the walls, a very-unhappy teen employee behind the counter. “hi there,” robin starts, receiving nothing but a bored glare in return.

“i will have a cookies and cream cone, extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce,” you can almost see the disgust in return, but an ice cream so sweet was fitting for robin and her rambling, kind personality. “and she will have…” robin trails off, turning to you in which you sheepishly look to the flavours behind the clear box.

“mint choc chip, please,” you finish for her, a ‘hmph’ while they begin the order. “that’s only but the most basic flavour,” robin starts, and your jaw drops in offense, looking to the pretty girl with wide eyes.

you scoff teasingly before replying, “no it’s not! vanilla is.” robin shakes her head, eyes gleaming and smirk on her face, “you know no one actually orders vanilla, everyone order mint. i thought you were better than that, i may have to rethink my choices here.”

you nudge her playfully, “everyone gets it because it’s that good.”

she hands over the money, insisting she pays and takes the cones from the raging teen before handing you yours, and you practically skip out the shop with robin, ice creams in hand. “when i worked at scoops, even though i hated the job and worked with a complete idiot, i was never that grumpy.”

you laugh at her, as if robin had the ability of such an emotion. “i could never see you being grumpy, robin,” you try as you both walk along the beach, the sun is setting across the water, hawkin’s a beautiful orange hue and you glance around you before reaching your hand out for robin’s.

she’s too busy eating her cookies and cream ice cream that she was not aware, and jumps when your hand slips into hers, fingers intertwining perfectly as if each of your hands were made for the other and robin freezes, butterflies from the tips of her connected fingers all the way to her rapidly beating heart.

robin was in deep, and she was going to make sure you knew that by tonight.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

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[brenninthetaylorverse]

minor ☆ entp-t ☆ #1 false god fan ☆ virgo ☆ swiftie since 2017 ☆ pharbie since 2019 ☆ reading and writing are my favorite hobbies though I dabble in poetry and sewing ☆ I love looking at quotes that make me sob ☆ I have misophonia ☆ avid music listener ☆ songwriter but I don't sing my songs ☆ follower of liam mccay's many music projects ☆ she'll be the best you've ever had if you let her ☆

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thank you guys! 296 followers is crazy!

i'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday everyday- I can do it with a broken heart by taylor swift

fav books: (and I literally mean all of them are my absolute favorites)

circe, speak, starfish, the book thief, ready player one, the hunger games series, the twilight series, the harry potter series (I hate jkr, she disgusts me), the percy jackson series<333, you've reached sam, the hate u give + on the come up

currently reading: good girl, bad blood by holly jackson

fav movies/tv shows:

the queen's gambit, speak, all of the twilight movies, gilmore girls, all of the hunger games movies + tbosas, shadow and bone, coraline, turning red, folklore: the long pond studio sessions, i am not okay with this (fav show ever!), miss americana, the rep stadium tour, the eras tour, hairspray

fav singers/bands: (in no particular order.

taylor swift, phoebe bridgers, mitksi, chappell roan, lorde, ethel cain, lana del rey, sabrina carpenter, the weeknd, chase atlantic, billie eilish, boygenius, alex g, hozier, florence + the machine, miserable teens club, sign crushes motorist, beach house, sleep token

random favs:

fall, anything that smells or tastes like pumpkin spice, cats, sweaters + cardigans, great penmanship, lip products, winning, validation, enemies to lovers, butterflies, sad quotes.

it's all in my head but I want nonfiction- hot to go by chappell roan

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#music ← where you can find my music<333

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thanks for checking out my intro post! have an amazing day/night!

#music #brenn's moodboards! #billie eilish #mitski #chase atlantic #twilight saga #pumpkin spice #about myself #folklore the long pond studio sessions #about my blog #pinned post #welcome to my blog #blog intro #get to know the blogger #i love phoebe bridgers #taylor swift #ethel cain

[nykie-love-anime]

Baby Come Back

Natasha encourages Y/N and Jake to go on a ‘date’ together while the squad takes care of the baby and their teens. Bradley takes Ally to the park and flirts with a cute girl, then brings back the wrong pram, and therefore the wrong baby.

Based on Good Luck Charlie Season 1, Episode 2.

Warnings: Cursing, loosing a child

“Hi, Ally. It's Natasha here your favourite aunt. So, right now, you're eleven months old, and everything is going great.” Natasha starts talking, looking into the camera. “Well, almost everything. Now, what I’m about to show you is kind of disturbing. It may give you nightmares in the future. So brace yourself Al.” Natasha goes into the kitchen with the video camera and walks past Javy. Bradley is sitting at the table with his earphones in his ears. Natasha pans in closer to Y/N and Jake, who are at the kitchen table making sandwiches and are talking like babies.

“Hmm, these sandwiches will be yummy-wummy in your tummy.” Y/N said talking to Jake in her highest baby voice. “Yes they will, yes they will.” Jake answers back smiling at Y/N. Natasha turns the camera back to her again. “Mommy and daddy have been talking like that ever since you arrived, and if it's not over soon, I’m gonna go queasy-weasy. All over the kitchen floor.” Natasha closes the video camera and puts it down on the island. Over at the table, Javy is yelling at Bradley. “Bradley!” Javy shouts waving his hand in front of Bradley’s face. “What?” he yells back taking out his earphones. “What are you listening to?” he questions the male as they look at Y/N and Jake who continuously talking in their baby voices.

“I downloaded a podcast on the history of boring facts and it’s currently on why people fear spiders more than they do death.” Bradley answers with his head tilting to look up at Javy. “You like stuff like that?” “A lot more than baby talk.” Rooster smiles as they both look at Natasha who rolled her eyes at the parents still busy making sandwiches for their trip to the beach. By the kitchen island Y/N hands Jake a box of cookies. “Would you like some cookie wookies with your snacky wacky’s?” “Yes I would, yes I would.” Jake continues the baby talk. Natasha is in front of them at the island chairs and points at the pram which is empty no baby in sight.

“Guys, Ally isn't even here.” Natasha noticed. “No, little baby is taking a nappy-wappy.” Jake smiles at Nat who just shakes her head. “So why are you guys still talking like that if she’s not even here?” “I don't weally know.” Y/N said looking down at the sandwich she was currently making. “I guess we're just fried.” “Well we fly all day, take care of the baby all night.” Jakes starts laughing quietly. “Work, baby, work, baby. I barely got time to make poo-poo.” “Well, when was the last time you guys had a night out?” Natasha asks and Y/N and Jake turn towards each other. “You know, like a date! Just you and Jake.” The tired parents look at each other seriously for a second but then burst out laughing.

“Natasha made a funny.” Y/N looks at Phoenix and through the laughter she answered Jake. “Funny-wunny.” “No, but seriously guys,” She starts with determination in her voice. “You know what Saturday night. You two. You go out, you have fun, and do something besides work and taking care of the baby.” Natasha walks over and joins the boys at their table.

“Well, it's nice to dream, really, but who is going to take care of Ally?” Natasha leans in between Javy and Bradley and puts her arm around them. “Hello?” Nat says questioningly. “You've got three great babysitters right here. And we will even do it for free.” Y/N and Jake stand in front of their team. “I don’t know, Natasha, it's a really nice thought, but we haven’t gone out without Ally yet and I don’t know about the guys looking after her, no offence.” Y/N says turning towards the guys and the boys just change the subject. “You guys want to see a magic trick?” “Sure!” Y/N said with a grin on her face. “Okay.” Jake agreed.

“Prepare to be amazed.” Javy says with his best magician-like voice, rubbing his hands together get ready for his best prank magic show ever. Coyote waits a second and then pulls the sheet off the table from beneath, the plates, cutlery and glasses goes flying of the table smashing everywhere all over the floor. Y/N and Jake pull faces at the mess. “I could use a night out.” Y/N walks off. “Clean this shit up guys.” Jake says pointing at the floor.

- - - Skip to Saturday - - -

Natasha is walking Y/N and Jake to the door as they get ready to go out. She is holding Ally with a smile. “So you guys have fun. Stay out as late as you want.” She starts with a smile before pausing for a second to think. “But not too much fun, we don’t need any more, little Seresin’s running around.” Phoenix said pointing at the four teenagers sitting on the couch watching TV. Jake laughs. Y/N pats Ally goodbye before walking towards the door. “Okay bye baby girl be good for Aunty Nat. Please look after the others as well and make sure they don’t just sit in front of the TV all day. Make sure they go out for a bit at least.” Y/N says stressing about leaving the baby alone but knowing she will be in capable hands.

“I'm serious.” Natasha said pausing Jake just before he can exit. “Okay, everyone. Be good, have fun. Love you.” Y/N said calling into the living room and the teens just grumbled goodbyes not wanting to be disturbed from their current favourite show. Y/N finally walks out the door, Bradley and Javy are on the couch watching something on their laptop not currently into the show on the TV.

“Yeah, yeah...” they trailed off uninterested. “Hey Phoe, thanks for doing this. It's going to be good for us have to have some special time together.” Jake moves towards the door waving goodbye to little Ally. “Be good my little girl we will see you later”

Natasha walks over to the couch, still holding Ally, to talk to the boys and the four teenagers lounging on the couch. “Okay guys, gals and no-binary pals. Who wants to go first?” Natasha questions looking at everyone in the living room. “I think you should go first.” Bobby the oldest of the kids answered. “Since this was your idea why don’t you spend the day with her.” Sam continued.

“Hey, I’m not doing this all by myself! You guys have to help out, your mom and dad agreed to go out with those terms.” Natasha said pointing at the kids along with Javy and Bradley. Rooster sighed standing up from the couch. “Fine I will go forth.” “There is no fourth. We all go.”

“No. What I meant; I shall go forth to the park to shoot some hoops." Bradley goes to walk out, and Natasha pulls him back by his hoodie. “If you want to go to the park so badly, then why don't you just take Ally? And take the little Seresin’s with you while Javy, Melissa and I go to the store to get food for later.” “Well what's a baby supposed to do at a park?” Bobby asks Natasha as he groans standing up. Natasha passes Ally into Bradley’s arms.

“Babies love parks.” She begins explaining “You can show her the duck pond...the blue, blue sky...the clouds... you choose what you want.” “We're just going to look at shi…stuff?” Sam cuts herself off before she gets reprimanded by her aunt. “That's what TV is for!” she complains just like her older brother. Natasha points to the door then at Bradley as if to encourage their departure.

At the park, Ally is lying in her stroller to the side of the see-saw area. Bradley is having a good old time on a blue swing set that he is far too big for. A young girl is waiting in line to have a go and is looking impatiently at Bradley as he swings back and forth shouting with enjoyment. “Yes! Whoa!” Bradley cheers swinging on the swing. “What are you looking at? I was here first.” 

“Hey, you can ride that horse. I'd look silly on the horse.” The little girl just continues to stare at him. “Fine.” Bradley climbs of the swinging tyre as he walks towards the pram with the rest of the Seresin clan. Dropping down to Ally’s level he begins talking excitedly. “Hey there little Ally. Are you having just as much fun as I am.” He stands upright with a smile pushing the sun cover down and begins walking forward as the groups follows behind him. Just as they are moving forward a middle aged man runs through the park in a blue skintight suit. With a red cape flowing as he comes to a stop next to the group.

“Hey. Have yo-you seen a-a kids party around here somewhere? I'm the entertainment for them.” The man asks out of breath from just running across the park grounds. “I saw a jumping castle at the other end of the park.” Bradley points behind him and the man sighs. The man continues on his journey just as Sam turns towards him to ask. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway? Plastic man? Rubber man?” “Oh no, those are all registered trademarks.” He begins explaining. I’m Captain Joe.”

“So what's your superpower Captain Joe?” “Super elasticity.” Captain Joe walks off just as Bradley turns to walk away with the stroller and notices a beautiful young lady coming his way, with the exact same stroller. His face lights up as he is automatically attracted to her, she smiles at him in return. Bradley does a loop around her, bumping into a post, until he is at her side.

“Hi.” He says with a stupid grin on his face. “Hi.” She greets back. “I, ah... I like your taste in strollers.” He said looking at the duplicate pram and this causes the girl to giggle. “Hehe... Thanks, I like your taste as well.” She looks at Ally and with a soft voice. “Oh, wow! That baby is so adorable.” “You too.” Bradley being the sappy dumbass replies and she looks stunned for a second before going back to a smile on her face. “Oh, I mean... Your baby… the baby is cute too.” He stutters over his words and the Seresin’s all giggle at the display in front of them

“I'm Sofia.” “I'm Bradley.” He replies the starts pointing at Sofia’s pram. “And who is this little guy?” Sofia smiles at Bradley. “This little man here is my nephew. We're just out for our stroll waiting for his mom and dad to finish work. We do this every day.” “We as well.” Rooster said trying to impress Sofia. “Like I always say, babies love parks. Would you like to sit for a bit?” he said pointing towards where the picnic tables are.

“Sure.” She replied with a giggle. The two of them push their strollers over to the chairs as they sit. The rest of the group stunned not expecting this to go so well for the fumbling idiot. “So, I saw you talking to Captain Joe earlier.” “Oh, yeah the man was lost. Not much of a superhero, am I right?” “Oh yeah, he's the worst. My brother hired him for Tommy’s birthday. The fricking guy ate all the snacks that were provided for kids. And to make matters worse he sat on the cupcakes.” She shook her head still astounded at the memory of that awful day.

“That sounds awful.” Bradley shakes his head not wanting to image something like that happening to little Ally. “Oh don’t even get me started.” “That is so weird. I mean, he looks like such a quality entertainer.” The two of them chuckle. “You know, Bradley, I’m really impressed that you take your little one to the park. My brothers would never do anything like that.” “Well, she is my niece after all so I love going out with her, now her brothers and sisters not always.” Sofia and Bradley chuckle again. The rest of the group just scoffs and silently curse Bradley and his stupid charms.

Back home at the house, Natasha is sitting on the couch and Javy is standing in front of her wearing a magician's hat. “Now, watch closely. In this hand, I have a coin.” Javy says holding the coin to show Natasha. “And in the other hand, an ordinary egg.” Coyote takes off his hat and places both objects inside. “Now, I put them both inside this hat. Spin them around a little and ta-da.” Javy tips the hat upside down and just the coin fall out.

The silence that follows their cheers are interrupted as the Seresin clan along with Bradley bursts through the front door and Bradley comes walking through with an energetic persona, pram in front of him, a big smile on his face. “I love this baby!” Bradley exclaims with a massive grin on his face. “Any time she wants to go to the park, sign me the hell up.” Natasha stood up from the couch

“What on God’s green earth happened to you?” Bobby shuts the front door, and Javy and Sam lies comfortably on the couch cuddling each other. “Let's just say... Ally made a friend; Bradley made a friend.” Natasha look at Ally’s pram but smells something off.

“Oh, and did either you or your friend bother to change a diaper while out on your excursion?” Natasha takes the stroller and walks around the lounge. “There was no time for that.” He argues. “I was too busy talking to Sofia.” He sits down on the couch beside Melissa who is currently reading. “And who's this Sofia?” Melissa questions not even looking up from her book. “A vision... An angel... The girl who has my whole heart.” Bradley sighs dreamily.

“Bradley...” Nat panics looking into the pram. “What?” he questions with a stupid grin on his stupid face Natasha wanted to smack of. “You brought home the wrong baby!” she exclaims “What? I did not...!” he tried laughing it off. Bobby and James walks over to the stroller and are stunned as they notice that Natasha’s previous statement is true and begins oohing. “Bradley did bring home the wrong baby!”

“Mom and dad are gonna kill you.” “Take a look... Wrong parts!” Natasha says removing the diaper. As the four look inside the stroller, a big spray of urine comes out as if it was aimed directly for them. Thankfully they all dodged it, only just missing the stream. James goes to the join Melissa couch. Bradley and Natasha remain standing in shock as they come to terms with what has just happened.

“How the fuck could you bring home the wrong baby?!” Phoenix asks frustrated. “I'm very sorry, I got a little distracted...Sofia is really cute.” Bradley says grinning “Yeah?” Natasha say smacking Bradley on his forehead. “Well, so is my niece.” She says walking towards the door with the stroller. “Come on, let's go to the park and find her.” “Relax! I got her number.” He says with a grin

“Well, then what the hell are you waiting for? Call her! I want my niece back before Y/N and Jake gets home.” Bradley goes to get his phone from his pocket... But hesitates... Then sits down on the couch. “Wait a minute...is it too soon?” Bradley asks unsure. “If I call now, she'll think I’m desperate.”

“Oh for fuck sake.” Natasha mutters under her breath and the teens chuckles along with Javy. “You are fucking desperate man.” Coyote tries to help Natasha “Good point.” Bradley gets to his feet and dials up Sofia’s number, raising the phone to his ears as he talks. “Hello...? Is Sofia there?” he questions raising an eyebrow. “This is a KFC?” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“She gave you the wrong number man.” Bobby teased the brown hair male who sunk into the couch shocked. “Who couldn't see that one coming?” James continues his brothers teasing. “But... I gave her sweets... It was so romantic.” He mutters disappointed. “Well... What do we do now?” Natasha's phone starts ringing. She goes over and looks put off as she inspects the caller id. “Fuck man now of all times.” She whispers to herself

“Hey Y/N, what up?” she answers the phone listening to you speak on the other end. “Yeah, everything's going… great. Why wouldn't it be?” Nat fake laughs. “We're...we're just having a good time here with the baby.” Phoenix starts panicking. “Yeah, sure you can talk to him... her, her!”  she holds the phone down to the pram “Talk to mommy Al...” Quickly realising she must make something up, starts making baby noises. “What do you mean that didn't sound like Ally?” she listens to you and sighs softly. Alright, bye... Say bye Ally!” Nat continues makes distant baby noises and fades it off as she hangs up the phone.

“Not that I’m in any position to criticize, but I was getting more, monkey than baby.” Bradley says with a smirk and this time Javy whacked him across the backside of his head. Natasha walks towards the door pushing the pram out of the house. “Let's go to the park to fix Bradley’s fuck up.” Phoenix says pointing at Javy. “Bradley since you decided to be an idiot you get to stay home with these guys.” Before he could protest Javy did it for him. “We don’t know what she looks like so maybe I should stay home so that Bradley can point out what she looks like.”

Natasha comes walking into the park, panicked, and pushing the stroller in front of her. Bradley and Bobby are coming in right behind her. “I don't see her.” Bradley says looking around. “Bradley, what did she look like?” “She was hot, literal angel but I don’t see how that matters?” Bradley ‘Dumbass’ Bradshaw answered and Nat sighs and before Bradley could go on Bobby cuts him off. “Maybe we should call someone.”

“Captain Joe!” Bradley exclaims. Pointing over to the other entrance of the park, where Captain Joe is still hanging out. “Who is that?” Natasha questions Bobby as Bradley runs over to Captain Joe. He seems happy. “You're still here?” “Yip every Saturday, all day long.” “Just the guy we needed to see. I think you can maybe help us.”

“Hey, man, I’m just an entertainer.” Captain Joe starts to walk off. The three of them follows after him. “No, you don't understand. I was talking to a pretty woman here earlier, and she said that you worked a party for her brother’s kid.” “So you have to be more specific? I've worked lots of parties.” “Where was the party where you sat on the cupcakes?” “Please Captain Joe. This is really important. We need to find her.” Nat pleads the man now in normal clothing. “Interesting situation. You kids need info, and I want food.” He says rubbing his belly

“Her name's Sofia. Did she come back to the park?” Bradley asks Joe. “Well...” he rubs his fingers together as though looking for money. “Maybe she did, or maybe she didn't. “Stop rubbing your fingers together and answer his fucking question man!” Natasha all but yelled at the man and Bobby just sighs. “He wants a bribe.”

Bradley mutters curses under his breath as he reaches into his pocket and gets out his wallet, passing Captain Joe a note. “Here, man now please give us anything you have.” “Yeah...yeah, I know the girl. She comes from a big family, eight kids. I’ve been a lot of characters for them.” “Magic Marvel?” Bobby questions grinning now all of a sudden. “Yeah!” Captain Joe answers with glee. “You're familiar with my work?” “Yeah!...And it sucks.” Bobby starts with a grin. “My uncle is just starting and he is a better magician than you are.”

Natasha eyes off Captain Joe as he scurries away. “Look, sir, do you know where she lives? Please this is important.” Natasha calmed down a bit and gives him a pleading look. “Yeah,  it is around here somewhere. I'd know it when I see it.” “Great!” Phoenix grins. “You help us tonight, and we'll get you that plate of food you have been craving.” She says with a smile. “But only if you help us otherwise you are on your own here man.” “Yeah, I get it I will help you guys.” Captain Joe smiles

“All right. Come on guys, we have to go find her.” Natasha said walking towards the exit of the park. “Okay. Captain Joe, blast off!” He says in character and points his arms up towards the sky like a superhero and turns left. “Truck's this way my guy.” Bobby teased. “Oh, right...” he trailed of embarrassed. He turned around and followed the group towards their car. Embarrassed, Captain Joe turns around and follows the group out of the park.

Y/N and Jake are sitting a table in a really cute restaurant, looking at the menu. “Order whatever you want, honey. I get a discount here. This place is one of my family’s best customers.” Jake says proudly and you smiled at your husband. He could go on and on with family business. Across from where Y/N and Jake are sitting, there is a family that has a stroller next to their table. The baby inside starts crying.

“Aww, look at that it's a little baby in a pram just like ours.” Y/N sighs longingly looking at the stroller. “Okay, honeybun, this is supposed to be a night away from the baby, just you and I, so let's go back to us.” Jake smiles at his wife but can’t help but miss their little miss as well. “Okay. I'm back, I’m back! I’m just going to run to the ladies room really quick.”

“Okay baby girl be right back! Once your back maybe we can order some dessert, how does that sound?” Jake grins as she give him thumbs up and he returns it, Y/N rolls her eyes and continues on. As she passes the family’s table, she looks inside the stroller, smiles and continues past but then notices that the baby inside the stroller is familiar. She quickly turns back and takes another look. The family looks at her like she has grown two heads but all she can do is stare back.

Y/N now waving; awkwardly turns and smiles at the family still looking at her. “Ciao.” She smiles then pauses. “Arrivederci.” Walking towards the table angrily she taps Jake on the back, and speaks in a hushed, agitated tone. “Jake! Would you go over there and look at that baby? I think it's our little Ally!”

Jake in disbelief exclaims. “What. Baby what the hell are you talking about.” “You heard me!” she starts pointing at the pram. “That is Ally! Our little Ally is in that pram.” “Sweetheart, would you please sit down?” “I will not sit down.” Y/N sighs agitated all of a sudden. “A mother knows her baby.” She whispered. “And that is my baby girl right there.” “Okay, honey…” Jake trails off. “What do you think happened in the last hour, somebody went to our house, borrowed our baby, then brought her out for pasta?” Jake grins as he looks out your shoulders dropping

“I don't know. It's a big family.” She says still looking at the family across from them. “Maybe that's how they get their babies!” she says with a smile. “Sweetheart, please...” Jake begins laughing as he thinks over what Y/N just said. “I know you know how babies are made; we had a lot and I mean a lot of practice on how they are conceived. I think you're just missing Ally. And you're having a little separation anxiety.”

Y/N finally comes to her senses and she calms down, brushes her hair away from her face. “Oh, okay...you're...right.” In a high pitched voice she points to her head with a smile she muttered ‘crazy’.” The two of them chuckle as she sits down again. “I mean, that is impossible, right?” she mutters with a smile on her face. “Exactly.” He says with a teasing smile.

“I'm just gonna go to the ladies room one more time.” Y/N says standing up from her chair already looking towards the family across from them “Sit your ass down baby. Don’t make me pull you over my knee in the middle of a restaurant.” Y/N sits down again sighing.

“Now let's enjoy the rest of our night out.” Jake smiles pointing his glass towards her to clink. “At this very lovely restaurant. Okay?” “Okay.” Y/N nods agreeing to his statement. A waiter from the restaurant comes over and whispers something in Jake’s ear, while Y/N is distracted eating something from the entrée that was still on the table. Jake dismisses the waiter. “I'm needed in the kitchen something about the beef cuts being wrong.”

Out on the streets, Bradley is driving around with Nat, Bobby and Captain Joe around. They are looking around, calling out for Ally. Natasha and Bradley are in the front, Bobby in the back with Captain Joe. “Ally?” Natasha calls after rolling down her window and Bradley isn’t far behind. “Sofia?” but so far there is nothing but houses around them. “Ally?” she tries again even though it is useless because baby Ally can’t answer. “Sofia?” but to no avail she also does not answer.

“Marco?” Bobby yells bored out of his mind even though they are looking for his sister. “Polo!” Captain Joe follows and Bobby smiles before looking out the window again. “Bobby this is not fricking helping! Joe, does any of this look familiar even if it is just a little bit?” Natasha angrily sighs. “Maybe it does...maybe it doesn't.”

“Hey!” she exclaims and they all look shock for a moment at the loudness of her yell. “You are not getting any more fucking money out of us man please I asked you nicely the first time and now I am getting angry so please just help us or get out of the fricking car.” “Nat getting so worked up is not going to help bring her back we have to remain calm to think rationally.” “Your right sorry, but this is my niece we are talking about.” She begins calming down before looking at Joe in the mirror.

“Sorry Captain Joe. It’s just…her parents entrusted us to look after her when they go out for the first time in a while so I just wanted them to have one night of peace. Sorry for yelling I shouldn’t have yelled at you that wasn’t nice and you are trying to help us find her so it is all good.” “It is really not problem miss I would get the same if someone lost my baby/niece. No, all I meant I have a bit of night blindness you know. So all...all I’m seeing is shapes and trees.” He explained looking back out of the road.

“Why didn't you mention it earlier?” Bobby grumbled knowing Natasha is going to yell at Joe if she says something to the older man again. “Sorry but I needed a ride home. Stop here.” Bradley stops the car at the traffic light. “Okay well if you go down four houses I believe her brother lives there so hopefully they are home.” Captain Joe takes off his seatbelt and gets out of the car. “Night, Captain.” “Good night, Captain Joe.” Bobby says with a wave.

“Goodnight guys, again thanks for the ride and I hope you find your niece before her parents get home.” Captain Joe smiles before closing the door and walks into his house and out of sight for the group in the car. “Okay well lets go to that house and hopefully they are there. I really hope they are home otherwise Bradley you have to explain to Y/N and Jake you lost their baby girl on the one night they are out.” Natasha sighs rubbing her hand over her face to calm down her nerves. Bradley's drives towards the fourth house as mentioned but they all had a bad feeling as they see no lights on.

Getting out of the car they all go up to the door to knock. They waited a minute but no one answered. “Fuck.” Bradley mutters under his breath.  “Now what do we do?” Bobby finally realising they are not seeing his baby sister anywhere begins panicking but Nat quickly pulls him into a hug calming him down a bit. “Well, can go look at the other side of the park we haven’t look there.” “Yeah,” Phoenix agrees. “But we can't just keep driving around all night.” They all but sigh. “Okay it's over. We have to tell Y/N and Jake.” “But...I…” Bradley started but was cut off by Natasha interrupting him

“No, it'll be okay. They'll know what to do. They always know what to do in these situations they are wonderful parents and we are awful babysitters and now Y/N is never going to let us babysit ever again. That is if Jake doesn’t kill us the moment he realises we lost his baby girl.” Bradley looks ashamed of himself, looking down all of a sudden as Natasha finishes talking.

“How the hell am I gonna tell them I lost their little girl?” Bradley pauses thinking for a bit. “I’m the oldest...I’m supposed to be the responsible one. They're going to kill me and I deserve it.” “Bradley, if it makes you feel any better...nobody thinks you should be the responsible one if you’re the oldest. They expect all of us to be responsible no matter who looks after Ally.”

Bradley takes a deep breath. “Why do I always mess everything up?” “You know what?” Bobby starts. “This could have happened to any of us but we're all in it together okay man.” “Thanks.” Bradley mumbled cheering up a little, looking at his friend and his nephew before driving off again.

Back at the restaurant, Y/N and Jake now have their dessert. There is a band of three people quietly playing Italian music with their instruments on the little stage, right next to their table. Jake moves his head to the beat, as he seems to enjoy it. Y/N, on the other hand, is sitting there with her arm on her forehead as though she is nursing a headache.

They finish after a few seconds more and Y/N claps them off, happy as they walk away to take a quick break. Not long after that, Natasha along with the pram, Bradley and Bobby enter into the restaurant from around the corner. “There they are.” Bobby points spotting his parents. “All right, let’s get this over with.” Phoenix sighs. “Do…do you think it would be better if we have the band deliver the news? Or are they going to know something is up.” “Well, if it's Italian, probably better for all of us. But we have to face them sooner or later.” As the band walks away from the stage, Bradley notices straight away that it is Sofia’s family sitting there. Bradley stops Natasha from walking over to the parents.

“Wait, wait! I don't believe it.” Bradley sighs relieved seeing the pram and a panicked Sofia. “That's Sofia!” “Oh, wait, so that's Ally? Because she does look stressed.” Natasha says hopeful. “Yes! We're so fucking saved!” “Not quite.” Bobby says as Bradley and Natasha have seem to forgotten one thing one big important thing...the parents. Y/N and Jake are waving at them. Y/N has a very happy smile on her face. “Hey, guys what are you all doing here?”

The three of them wave back with uncomfortable smiles. “What now?” “Ah...I’ll let you know when I think of a plan of action.” Natasha walks over to Y/N and Jake’s table. “Hi guys.” Nat greets them stopping in front of their table. “Hey.” Jake greets back. “Well, we just realised you must be missing sweet little Ally, so we...brought her.” Natasha points behind her with a smile. “Oh, Natasha. You're not fooling me.”

“I'm not?” she questions alarmed but not saying anything as not to get caught. “Nope you haven’t. You've spent a little too much time with Ally. And you're ready to hand her over to us early.” “Well, I wouldn't say too much time.” She cringed at the thought of them finding out. “Well, I am so ready.” Y/N sighs happy prolonging the ‘dy’. “So let me at her! Gimme, gimme, gimme.” Y/N starts to stand up to head to the pram at the door, but Natasha stops her.

“Y/N! Y/N! You're on a date why don’t you sit back down let me bring her to you.” “Okay...” she trails of looking at her best friend as if she has grown two heads. Natasha runs back over to the entrance where Bradley and Bobby are. Natasha leans over and whispers something in Bobby’s ear. “I want you to do what Uncle Javy did a few days ago.” She whispers.

“Here?” he asks surprised. Natasha whispers again. “Yes I want it to be messy right now.” “Now? Well, all right.” He says with a grin as he starts walking towards his parents table. Bobby walks over to Y/N and Jake’s table. “Hey mom!” Bobby greets his mom with a smile. “Hey, baby.” She greets back before Bobby turns to Jake. “Hey, dad.” “Hi buddy.” Jake smiles at his oldest kid who is like a carbon copy of when he was Bobby’s age.

“There is something I want to show you and mom.” He starts. “What is it, Bobby?” Bobby is going to do his uncle’s magic trick from a few days again. He reaches for the tablecloth underneath all of his parents food and pulls it right out. Food goes flying all over Y/N face, Jake’s clothes are a mess of red wine and dessert. Everything happens as if it is in slow motion. “No!” Jake yells. But it's too late everything is already a mess.

As this distracts Y/N and Jake from what is about to happen, Natasha quickly picks up the baby boy inside Ally's stroller as Sofia also takes the opportunity and pickup Ally from her brother's pram because she too saw the opportunity to get back her nephew in the chaos that ensues. Natasha runs over, almost bumping into the band who was coming back to their stage, and twirls around as she and Sofia swap babies.

Natasha runs back to Ally's pram and places her niece right where she should be, where she belongs. Bradley lets a triumphant grin cover his face as the babies are switches before either parent could notice. Natasha pulls the cover down and she quickly stands up, flicking her hair back behind her ear. Thankfully Y/N and Jake are still completely oblivious. Y/N looks angrily at Bobby, she has custard all over her dress and wine dripping down her face. Bobby tries to look innocent.

“And now for my next trick...I’m gonna make a teen disappear!” he runs back to the entrance of the restaurant. Bobby runs away quicker than ever and out the door. Bradley walks over and meets Sofia, who has been standing there for a while. “You know, you should be ashamed of yourself.” He begins with a frown. “You lead a guy on, make him think you have a really great connection...all to give him a fake phone number.” Bradley holds his phone for her to see.

Sofia who is currently looking at the screen notices a mistake. “You put it in the wrong last digit. That 5 is supposed to be an 8.” Bradley looks down now all of a sudden embarrassed. And Sofia can’t help but to giggle at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“Oh...my bad. So do you wanna get a table?” he questions and she smiles again. “Well I tell you what I am just going to finish my wine then we can get out of here before my brother realises I almost lost his baby boy.” Bradley can’t help but grin. “That sounds good can’t wait.” She waves goodbye as she turns to her table to quickly finish her wine then leaving her share of money for the bill and the joins Bradley at the door to go on their date.

“My widdle baby.” Y/N in a baby voice, greets Ally. “Did you miss mommy and daddy?” she giggles at her silly parents. “Yes you did, yes you did.” Jake continues his baby talk as well. Natasha is smiling now, probably from shock that they pulled everything off, that they did, without the parents realising they almost lost little Ally. “I never thought I’d be so happy to hear baby talk.” Natasha sighs in relieve while taking to herself when she realises no one is at her side. Y/N see she is holding a dummy that is definitely not Ally's.

“Nat, this isn't Ally's dummy.” She hands her the dummy with a racing car on the front instead of a heart along with a kitten. “Where did you get this dummy?” “Oh, hehe so funny story. You see, what happened was...” Natasha starts clicking her hands behind her back in a rush in hopes of getting the band to start playing again. Thankfully they got the signal and starts playing louder than they did previously. “It’s too loud I will tell you what happened later at home.” Natasha shrugged and Y/N and Jake just raised an eyebrow looking at each other.

- - - Back at the Seresin Residence - - -

Natasha is filming a video for little Ally. “Yeah so.” Phoenix prolonged the so. “Ally, now that you're home, safely, and everything turned out okay. Well actually just for you.” She clears her throat panning in on Ally playing in her ball pit. “It would've been okay for us too, but when we got home, your mommy and daddy started asking all these questions.” She sighs turning the camera back to her.

“And as you know no one really had an answer to their questions especially to the pee stain on the living room floor which not of your brothers, sisters of Uncle Javy cleaned up by the way.” She smiles into the camera before laughing. “Hehe so they got in trouble as well thankfully not just us.” Y/N comes into view of the video camera as she sits beside Natasha on the couch.

“And that's when the truth came out.” Jake cuts Y/N off with a smile as he sits next to his wife. “And all the kids and adults got into trouble.” Y/N says pointing a finger at the camera. “So, the lesson is, if you ever try to pull anything over on mom...well good luck Ally.” Y/N stands and walks off along with Jake, leaving Natasha all alone on the couch. “I really couldn't have said it better myself. Goodbye baby Al.” Natasha switches off the camera going to the kitchen to talk to Y/N and Jake about the punishment you guys have for all the kiddos and the adults.

Masterlist

#y/n #reader #fluff #female reader #y/n imagines #fem!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n

[hoodie-buck]

i was tagged by my beloveds @hippolotamus @buddierights to share my winter/holiday fics to get in the spirit now that it's december 🎄

buddie:

the holiday calendar—buck ends up with an advent calendar during the start of the holiday season. he thinks it's possessed and out to ruin his life, the toys inside continually leading him to some doe-eyed beauty and his adorable son.

the holiday calendar: strikes again—maddie asks eddie to hold onto the infamous holiday calendar for the season, eddie getting to find out just how ‘magical’ it really is

christmas kisses—five times buck gives eddie cheesy gifts, and the one time eddie gets exactly what he's been wanting

santa buck—buck wears a santa hat...that's it, that's the summary

you make everyday feel like it’s christmas—buck and chris want everything to be perfect for christmas; eddie thinks they already are

snow on the beach—the surfing au, christmas edition

in the reflection, all i see are glimpses of you and me—five times eddie sees glimpses of something more in a snow globe, and the one time buck sees it too

teen wolf:

christmas at the loft—the pack needs derek to participate in a very non-derek activity. it's his and stiles first christmas together as a couple; what could go wrong?

animal kingdom:

broken cookies—adrian helps deran with chritmas baking

on chrtistmas day— 5 times adrian gets deran to celebrate the holiday's and the one time deran makes a tradition for them all on his own

tagging: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @onward--upward @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @barbiediaz @justsmilestuffhappens @elvensorceress @wh0re-behavi0r @jacksadventuresinwriting @spaceprincessem @giddyupbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #teen wolf #sterek #sterek fic #deran x adrian #animal kingdom #christmas fics #tag games #🎄💚❤️ #evan buckley #eddie diaz #deran cody #adrian dolan #stiles stilinski #derek hale #kel(s) writing

[anxiouspineapple99]

Okay here goes nothing! My original fic has turned into a monstrosity because my maladaptive daydreaming said “bitch we need to Tolkien tf outta this.” So I may post that one later when I’m done fleshing it out and I may not if the dopamine kick for my currently unmedicated ADHD wears off. However, it did result in this (longer than I intended) one shot. I feel pretty vulnerable posting this tbh but it’s good for my anxiety to do this. A few notes before continuing. I almost wrote this in third person because while I love reading me a good character X reader fic when other writers use “you” whooooo boy was that hard for me. Also because it was born of MD, the initial story was a first person OC but I don’t feel comfortable writing that yet so here we are. Okay I am rambling now sooooo here I go before I read it again, see everything I hate about it and chicken out!

.

Fireflies

@deewithani asked to be tagged when I posted so hi and I hope you enjoy! 😊

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Tech x GN!reader

Word count: 2017ish

Warnings: fluff. Lots of it cause I love fluff. Fluff so sweet your teeth might fall out.

One cycle. It had been almost one full cycle since The Batch had landed on your secluded planet of the Outer Rim. You’d made your way here following Order 66 and the villagers of the tiny island on which you now lived were more than welcoming. You were still heartbroken, however. You were alone. You felt like a failure. You were a Jedi healer and you couldn’t save any of them. Your former master, the younglings, your friends in The Order, your friends that were clones. So when The Batch arrived you were conflicted. Torn between the fear that they may also turn on you but also feeling immense comfort in their presence. You kept your secret, you couldn’t get hurt if they didn’t know. Regardless, you began to open back up slowly but surely. You made cookies for Omega and Wrecker, shared dry jokes with Echo, and carried out pleasant conversations with Hunter. However as the days pressed on, you found yourself seeking Tech’s company the most. You loved hearing him talk about anything and everything. You shared your own scientific and medical experience (withholding key details about your time as a healer) and theories with him. You loved the lively debates and learning from him. Watching him working on the Marauder was your guilty pleasure pastime. You felt almost normal again.

Nonetheless, you were feeling guilty for not being completely transparent about who you were. So tonight was the night. You were going to tell him everything. Sort of. Actually you were going to drop massive hints. Tech was brilliant. If he hadn’t figured out your secret yet, you were certain he would figure it out tonight. You decided you would take him to your special place; a secluded alcove off the beach. In your early days on the island you’d accidentally discovered it was home to a small swarm of Tython Fireflies which only hatch during the warmest cycles, like now. They’re also Force sensitive and tend to gravitate to Force wielders. He should be able to connect the dots with that alone, you thought to yourself. Also, you really did want to show him the fireflies; and, maybe, you just wanted to be alone with him. Even if just for a short while.

“Tech! Are you available tomorrow evening? There is an incredible natural phenomenon that I think you would appreciate!” You had asked him. “Yes, I am available,” he’d told you. “Fantastic. Meet me at the old trail just an hour before dusk,” you’d instructed.

“You’re early,” you cheekily teased when you opened your door to an unexpected knock. “Obviously. Is that a problem?” Tech answered. You shrugged, “Nope. Just an observation. Are you ready?” “Lead the way,” he answered, holding an arm out, beckoning you to walk ahead of him. You shot him a flirtatious grin over your shoulder as you led him down the path to the alcove. Maker, was he incredible. You reveled briefly in his Force signature as you walked, noting its warmth. You loved the companionable silence the two of you shared. Almost as much as you loved the conversations. As you traversed the rocky tide pools you pointed out native species and he shared stories of aquatic species he, his brothers, and Omega encountered while on missions. You could listen to him talk all day. You admired how effortlessly he trekked over the uneven and slippery path; graceful and almost entirely silent. He was bloody beautiful and you wanted to look at him forever.

“It’s just this way!” you excitedly called to him. You reached out to the tangle of vines hanging from the rocky ocean cliffs. Pulling them back revealed a weather beaten opening. The two of you emerged on the other side into a small inlet. From the rock face poured a waterfall into a small lagoon. In it were some of the biggest and most elegant Goldies you’d seen, and was saying something because the ones that were kept in the Jedi Temple were impressive.The inlet was draped in exquisite greenery, trees, and radiant flowers. The sand was soft and still warm and the birds were singing their roosting songs as the sun crept lower toward the horizon. “We are here!” you exclaimed, holding out your arms and doing a little spin. “Quite impressive. There is a wide array of flora and fauna here I haven’t seen on the rest of the island,” Tech mused as he wandered about inquisitively with his datapad in hand. You giggled at how cute he was inspecting each flower, fish, and insect, rattling off facts about the ones he knew and making notes to research the unfamiliar. You walked up beside him, “There’s more. Do you see those pods hanging from the trees?” You asked. “I do,” Tech responded, adjusting his goggles. You continued, “Those are the egg sacks of the Tython Fireflies. They only hatch during the warm cycles, like now. When dusk arrives in only a few moments those will open with thousands of new hatchlings ready to spread their wings.” Tech began typing on his datapad, “Fascinating! Tython Fireflies, I know I have heard of those before—“ Before he could continue, you grabbed his arm, “Shh! Look! They’re beginning to hatch!” You both stood still as the pods split and the fireflies emerged, slowly at first. As their wings dried they began to pour from the pods like shimmering gold water. You could hear their songs within the Force, however the audible humming of their wings was also lovely. You held a hand out; first one and then another landed in your palm. One, five, eventually ten and twenty little lights encircling your outreached hand, they were warm and found comfort in the Living Force within you. Tech watched speechless for a moment, completely enraptured by the sight before him. You, under the emerging stars, in this picturesque location with sweet fireflies landing in your hands like they were pets. Time escaped you as you both basked in the moment.

“Ah yes, Tython Fireflies, I recall now. In Mando’a they are called “be’jetti Ka'ra '' or the Jedi’s Stars, because they are particularly fond of Force sensitive---” Tech stopped, looking at you with the sudden realization. “Hm, that is interesting,” you hummed coyly, confirming the unspoken between the two of you. “Wait. I want to show you something else,” you added as you grabbed his hands. You cupped them as if you were preparing to pour something in them, “Don’t move.” You walked to the nearest pod and scooped a handful of the new hatchlings. They hummed and buzzed in your hands, sounding happy and comforted by the living Force they felt in your fingers. You slowly walked back to Tech and gently placed them into his cupped palms. You then tenderly placed your hands around his, brushing his knuckles softly with your fingertips. As the hatchlings gathered their strength and their glow intensified, they illuminated his face. His brown eyes looked even more beautiful than you thought possible. He held your gaze and your heart felt as if it would leap from your chest, the space between you closing slowly. You sighed, smiled, and then whispered, “On my command, hold them up. Three…two…one…now.” Together, you raised your hands into the air and the hatchlings took flight swirling and dancing around you both as if there was a song neither of you could hear. As they dissipated into the foliage you moved to sit on a rock closest to the lagoon. “Well? What do you think?” you tentatively probed. “About which part? Your being a Jedi or the impressive light show you’ve just shown me?” he answered walking toward you.

“Both, I suppose.”

He sat next to you, thigh pressed against yours. You were suddenly keenly aware of how warm he was, soft, and kriff, he smelled amazing. You inhaled deeply taking in his scent, a combination of smokey and subtly spicy with the faintest remnants of oil likely from his constant tinkering on the Marauder.

“I am surprised I did not realize before now that you were a Jedi. In retrospect there were many signs I should have picked up on. However, I do not blame you for not being forthcoming before tonight. Though, you are safe with us. We have all had our chips removed and Omega never had one. As for this,” he motioned with his hands indicating he was now speaking about your surroundings. “This was remarkable. And I thank you for sharing it with me. It has, however, led me to ponder a hypothesis I have been rolling around recently. With your permission, of course.”

“Of course. I always enjoy a good experiment!” you chirped with a smile. He shifted to angle himself toward you. He confidently smirked as he tipped your head up, thumb and index fingers tenderly holding your chin. He then moved in and kissed you firmly. You didn’t hesitate and leaned into it bringing your hand to his cheek.

“Fascinating,” he crooned as he pulled back. “I believe this hypothesis will require further testing.”

“Well then, I suppose we should get to work,” you cooed as you leaned in again. The next kiss was deep and desperate. Tech’s fingers dug into your waist, pulling you to him while his other hand was fervidly tangled in your hair. Your hands roamed from his face to his neck, pulling him in not wanting to let go. You were tangled in each other for an unknown amount of time, hands roaming, drinking each other in under the stars.

And then his comm began to buzz. You both reluctantly pulled back, out of breath and ravenous for more. “One moment,” he sighed.

“Tech where are you?” Hunter’s irritated voice cut through the peaceful night air. “There are some repairs we need to finish here and you said you’d be back by now.”

“Apologies Hunter. We were…delayed,” Tech answered shortly, adjusting his goggles once again.

There was a pause and then a quiet chuckle from Hunter, “I see. Just try not to wake us up when you get back.”

“Copy that.”

“It is late. We should start making our way back,” you sighed, closing your eyes and focusing on Tech’s fingers that had made their way back to your hair. He sighed and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yes, I know.” He stood up and extended his hand to you. You took it, momentarily marveling at how perfectly your hands fit together. As you made your way back together you leaned into his shoulder and said, “You know, my Mando’a is pretty rusty. I’d love to learn more.” Tech squeezed your hand and replied, “Fortunately, I am an exceptional teacher.” You laughed and he smiled warmly at you. Your laugh was musical to him. “I was going to say that you’re lucky that I’m an excellent pupil,” you teased. He bumped your shoulder with his arm playfully and chuckled.

The walk home was far too short for both of you. When you arrived you stalled trying to avoid the inevitable end to the night. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Tech. It far exceeded my expectations and is, without a doubt, now my favorite experience there. And thank you for trusting me to test that…hypothesis,” you said as you smiled shyly, just missing his gaze.

He lifted your head so he could meet your eyes with his, “You are the only one I wish to test that hypothesis with. And I will continue to do so until you no longer wish to.” You blushed and answered, “This will be an extremely long running experiment then.” You stood on your tip toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “Good night, Tech.”

You turned to go inside but he held on to your hand a moment longer and uttered, “Mesh’la.” You stopped and turned to face him once again, “What?”

“Consider this your first lesson in Mando’a, mesh’la.”

“Oh! And what does that mean?”

He brought his hand to your face and you pressed your cheek into his palm as he answered, “It means ‘beautiful’.”

#tech x reader #clone force 99 #tbb tech #star wars the bad batch #tech x you #tech x y/n #the bad batch tech #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #oneshot #sw tech #clone trooper tech #clone trooper headcanons #the clones #clone trooper x reader #star wars the clone wars #tech x gn!reader #tbb tech x reader #tech x f!reader #tech tbb #jedi consular #jedi healer oc #jedi council #order 66 #tech fluff #clone fic #anxiouspineapple99 writes

[abeinginsand]

Some hcs and snippets For Hot Glenn Holidays

(there's an idea for each prompt of the week)

----

Sweets and Baking:

Glenn likes spicy hot cocoa and coffee. It never occurred to him to look up a proper recipe for it, so usually he tossed a few drops of hot sauce in the beverage of choice and called it a day.

He does this with ready-made cookie dough as well. Both Darryl and Ron were appalled by this info but Henry seemed excited to ramble about some related family recipes.

Fun in the Snow (Post S2 AU):

It snows in hell all year so snow ball fights are pretty common. His favorite ones are yearly though when--most of the family (including Hermie) are wrangled into participating (compared to dragging over unsuspecting demons in the area). He also has an ice rink set up down there and is a DJ for it.

Caroling (Teen High School Band AU):

As the school's band teacher, he's always excited about performing with his students during the local parade. Its a performance mix of instruments and holiday tunes. One part rock 'n roll and the other being a mix of anime and traditional stuff. The anime music is courtesy of his grandson Taylor, also in the band. One of his old Glenn Close trio band mates always drives the truck for their float and of course the whole thing has protective guard rails on it. A few students and himself sit in chairs within big cardboard present boxes with no bottoms or tops. During certain cues in the songs, they are supposed to stand up to pop out of the box and then sit back down. Its a big hit with crowds and the candy canes others hand out seal the deal too. Little candy bags that even have coupons to local shops inside too.

Caroling and Saint Nicky:

Back when Morgan was still alive, she'd work some pretty long shifts sometimes. It was rarely around Christmas, but if it was, Glenn and Nick would do some caroling around the neighborhood and surprise her with a holiday serenade when she got back.

Present Wrapping (cw self harm):

Glenn's gotten into the bad habit of scratching his wrists to chase away the phantom feeling of cuffs and chains. He should stop but its easier to try and keep it a secret instead. Until he's at Darryl's holiday party and the sight of Jesus strapped to the cross makes his stomach flip. And he's off to the kitchen to get away from it all, wrists stinging as his nails-- But...with the sound of footsteps, he realizes Ron followed. The shorter man doesn't call out the obvious or ask any related questions to the red marks peaking out from under his baggy ugly christmas sweater. Instead, his friend asks him something else: "Can you try this ribbon on for me?" He doesn't remember if he even said yes or 'mhm' but the soft feeling of the present ribbon is nice. The thin fabric is warm from Ron's hands, tied loosely so Glenn could slip out of it at any time. He lets go of the breath he was holding, flexes his fingers, and stares at the pink ribbon now around one wrist "This looks dumb."

Ron doesn't hold back his little laugh at all and pats his shoulder. "Sure does. How does it feel though?" It was a thinly veiled 'How do you feel?' that Glenn decided to answer. Maybe because they were alone or because Ron was willing to laugh at him instead of assure him. Or a bit of both...

Glenn felt himself smirk and say a tired but honest, "A little better."

Christmas in the Sand:

Before the divorce, Bill used to take the family to the beach at least once a year. It was to have fun and make some business while he was down there. Getting a hotel at the beach was a lot cheaper in winter too. He'd often wake up earlier than his wife and son each morning to go browse the boardwalk. Again, there was money to be made with talks and setting up new gigs or busking.

But, regardless of the deals, his favorite part was waking up little Glenny and showing him the bag of trinkets he bought or traded for that day. The three also played out in the sand. Mostly Christine and Glenn burying a napping Bill in the sand. Christine wasn't one to laugh much except when looking at her sand mermaid husband snoozing away. Both were awake to play with their kid in the waves later on too. Glenn and Morgan took Nick to the beach as well, but they all tended to wander the city instead of play in the sand most of the time. It was so hard to get sand out of everything when they did go over there. Also having to convince their son not to munch on said sand was a whole other challenge! Still a lot of fun though and so many great pictures too.

Trees and Ornaments:

Since that blunt existed in the close family mail box regardless of the timeline shift, lets go with the thought that some other misc. items stayed behind too. Like a few worn family pictures from old vacations mentioned above. Glenn has a giant Christmas tree set up in hell and the beach day photo with Morgan by his side, an arm around his waist, and Nick on his shoulders always goes at the top instead of a star or other ornament.

#glenn close dndads #dndads glenn close #dndads #dndads headcanon #abeinginsand writing tag #hot glenn holidays 2023 #tw self harm #dndads fanart #dndads fic #dndads fanfic #fanfic #fic

[the-pink-thumb]

Of nuggets, thoug cookies and cherry cobblers

Read in AO3

For @apomaro-mellow , hope you enjoy :)

@steddieholidayexchange

Rating: Teens and Up

No archive warnings apply

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson,

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington's Parents, Wayne Munson

Additional tags: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Meet the Family, Parent Steve Harrington, Parent Eddie Munson, Foster Parents, Cooking, cooking together

Words: 5125

Summary: Eddie Munson is quite happy with his own family, with Steve Harrington at his side. But when the Harrington family makes a call, he has to choose between run away or face them!

Fic under the cut!

Six nuggets, a motorhome to cross the country and learn to surf near the ocean.

Steve Harrington raised his eyes to the sea, where the sun was slowly going down, and then checked the barbecue he was cooking near the porch. 

Well, the motorhome was there, parked near that Californian paradise. The nuggets were only two, at the moment, and Eddie was soaking them with the waves in the shallow water. The twins were crying for pleasure every time the foam caught them, and Eddie was laughing from the top of his lungs. Then he raised his sight to Steve, who waved at him, and rapidly he collected the kids, ignoring their protest, and then took them one under each arm like potato sacks, made them giggling and squawking under the clean water shower. 

Eddie took the towels and dried the kids. He ruffled their golden hair and then applied them some aftersun and dressed them.

Steve set the camping table and turned the ribs on the barbecue one last time. 

“Ehi, pretty boy” said Eddie, finally drying himself too, with the towel on his head to make everybody laugh. He leaned for a kiss and hugged Steve’s waist. “How’s the cook?”

“Pretty ready,” smiled Steve, enjoying the salty warmness of his boyfriend. “Could you kindly prepare the salad?”

Eddie nodded and called the kids. They entered the motorhome and he heard the noises of three little kids preparing the vegetables, giggling and singing silliness.

Only two nuggets, and not even his’. The agency said that, for the moment, they weren’t eligible for adoption, but they’re good for fostering. Kids with problematic parents, disrupted families, dysfunctional homes that would enter the system otherwise. They gave the kids an opportunity of a normal life with foster families and their parents the opportunity to clean up and regain their children’s custody eventually. 

For Steve, it was the same as raising a “real” child. They already fostered a six year old girl for eight months, until her father could complete the program and claimed custody again. Now they were raising those four year old twins, Bobby and Becky, whose former addicted mother was trying to rehabilitate, stay clean and provide a stable home for them. They were together for almost a year already, Steve knew, and hoped, that they could return with their mommy but this didn’t prevent him from loving them dearly as they were his. And for Eddie it was the same. They finally had good financial stability, a house and a lot of love to give away, and they gladly tried to help kids in need. 

“Good, wash your hands, little worms!” Ordered Eddie, putting the salad on the table. Steve was collecting the ribs on a plate and put them too on the table. 

The kids washed their hands obediently and sat at the table. Eddie served the food to them and they start eating, trying to talk at the same time and tell Steve their afternoon at the beach. Steve barely understood a word, but he was happy at the moment. Eddie put his hand on his’, smiling tenderly to him, and they looked together at the sunset on the vast ocean.

Eddie showered the kids and put them in the bed. He read them a story and Steve went to kiss them goodnight after cleaning the dinner. 

It was really odd and curious that Eddie, who had the greatest difficulty following any sleep routine as a teen, was the most responsible of the parents. He was strict with the kids; he knew how to make them obey, he made them respect their routine and stop every fuss; he wasn’t inflexible, he could always follow the rules without being the bad cop, Steve really couldn’t say how he did it. The kids, especially the twins, had respected his so-called authority from the beginning, and Eddie was able to absolutely spoil and discipline them at the same time. 

Every time Steve thought about it, he fell in love even more. 

Eddie reached him in their chair under the moonlight, lighting a cig. 

“So, you’re still convinced of it?” He said to Steve, after a good drag and a big breath.

Steve tossed the ash of his own cig and nodded. 

“Why not, Eds?”

“You want to discuss it again?”

Steve sighed and took a drag, sipping his beer then. “Nope. You’re right. Yes, I want to go to the party, as I kept saying for days and days, so, yes, I’m still convinced”.

Eddie turned his head and grumbled. “I hate when you do so”.

“Then don’t make me”

Eddie grumbled again, put his cig off and went inside the caravan. Steve heard him changing, then the noise of the camping bed under his weight, and the pages of his journal angrily opened. He sighed one last time, finished the beer and went to bed too. 

“How are you doing?” He asked in a peace offering.

“I’m writing a song, I titled it “I don’t want to go to your ridiculous family gathering, thanks”. It’s almost finished” answered Eddie without raising his head. Steve smiled. He adored the irony Eddie was always able to use even when he was upset.

“Come on, babe…” Eddie looked at him angrily. “Come on, Eddie.  We never met my family and I never insisted, but…”

Eddie muttered and moved a hand to make him shut up. “I know. I already listened to that. Tomorrow it’s our last day of vacation and I don’t want to ruin it”.

Eddie put down the notebook and got under the sheets, turning his back to Steve.

“Oh, come on!” Protested Steve, going near him. He lended a hand on his waist.

Eddie moved a little on the other side. “I don’t want to ruin it either” said Steve, harshly. “Is it better if I sleep on the sofa?”

“Don’t be silly”

“But you don’t want to talk to me or touch me”

Eddie sighed.

“Ok talk” he said dryly. 

“I don’t know what to say, I just want to go visit my family and this time, with you”

Eddie turned towards him, looking at him with a hard look. 

“They never accepted me, and you know. They never accepted the kids, and I don’t want to force them to this”

“And I already said that they changed their mind this time. My father…”

“Yes, we all know that your father is a survivor and now he sees life differently”.

“Can’t you give them a last possibility? Just for me? They really want to make amends, he asked me to apologize. They want you to go to the anniversary and talk to you personally”.

“And the kids?”

“They… want to meet them…”

Eddie grumbled another time, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t want to remember what they said about adopted children”

“And they regret itI now. They want to tell you directly. Please, Eddie. I am…. I was really worried for my father”.

Eddie shook his head one last time. “But just for you, not for them” he pouted, and Steve smiled sweetly. “Of course. Thanks”

They heard Bobby call with a panicked voice. Becky was pretty good about their mother, but Bobby lately started to have nightmares, especially when they met or had a call with her. Eddie sighed and came out of the bed, glad to have an excuse to go away to Steve.

Steve turned the light on and sat up on the bed, he wanted to wait Eddie after falling asleep to be sure they ended the argument well.

“His family” had always been a taboo between them.

He was madly in love with the man, he fell in love with him in Eddie’s senior year but he accepted it a year or so later, when Eddie himself confessed to him he had a big crush on him when he was the keg king.

The only big fight they had was about Steve’s family. He eventually came out with his parents, but they didn’t accept it at first and not even after some time. They accused Eddie of ruining Steve, to change him into someone he wasn’t and they tried to make them break out. And they succeeded. 

After a year and a half, they planned to move together, but Steve’s parents stopped him, and he wasn’t able to ignore them. They tried to convince him that he needed to find a good girl to start a family, that probably he ended up with Eddie because he was disappointed in the girls in Hawkins. They offered to pay him a trip abroad or an apartment away to try to find someone more suitable. Steve regretted he wasn’t strong enough to run away with Eddie, but he didn’t want to cut off his family entirely. So he and Eddie had that big, giant fight and broke up. Eddie moved away alone and Steve remained in Hawkins, heart broken and feeling really, really stupid.

But he kept thinking about Eddie, despite his parent’s attempts to marry him off with some girls, and another year and a half later, during Thanksgiving holidays, he met Eddie again and knew that his feelings had never changed, and, luckily for him, nor Eddie’s. This time he was firm with his family, he protected his relationship with Eddie and when the time came, he moved in with him in Portland. His parents never accepted Eddie, although they stopped trying to separate them. Eddie tried to visit once, but they were really cold and rude so he didn't try again. 

Then Steve’s father got cancer and Steve was really worried for him. Eddie, really proud, refused to go to visit him, and Steve didn’t insist. He visits every now and then alone, but now, after the recovery, they wanted to throw a big party for their 35th wedding anniversary, and for the first time they insisted on having Eddie too, and even the kids. Clearly Eddie was cautious and they had to argue a lot of times. 

Yes, they only fighted about Steve’s family, and he didn’t like it.

Eddie returned with a little smile on his face. “I hope he can sleep the rest of the night, we have to sing the spider some more time than I like”.

Steve smiled too. He looked Eddie in the eyes, waiting for him to resume the discussion. Eddie sighed, returning under the sheets.

“You want me to apologize?” Eddie asked, in a plain tone.

“Of course not! But… I want us to go to sleep in peace”.

“I already said that I will go, for you. I am just worried for the kids. Are you sure? We can manage otherwise if…”

“No,” said Steve firmly. “They have to accept my family as a whole, or nothing. The kids and you are my family over my parents. It’s the last occasion, ok?”

“Ok… but at the first bad signal we will go away without looking back”.

Steve sighed and nodded. He remembered how he cried for anger and frustration when he announced to his parents that they wanted to start the adoption process: that they wouldn’t accept some abandoned, rejected kid as their grandchild. That blood was thicker than water and their lineage dated back to the pilgrims and so on. Steve left thinking it was the last time, but then his father fell sick. Eddie was still offended by their prejudices about fostering and adopting kids, he maybe could negotiate their opinion about him but surely wouldn’t expose innocent kids to two old racist white dumbs.

“Deal. I will support you no matter what, I promise”.

Eddie nodded. “So enjoy our last holiday night” he smiled, and opened his arms to accommodate Steve on his chest. 

“I love you,” Steve said.

“I know”.

They barely talked about the family gathering on the trip to Hawkins. The kids really loved the landscape of the highway and sleeping in campings along the way with every kind of different person. Eddie liked it too, he was good at knowing strangers and they had a good time singing in the caravan and talking with interesting people. 

They decided to stop previously at Wayne's to spend a couple of days with him and meet Steve’s parents alone before the anniversary. 

Wayne already met the kids at Christmas in Portland, and he just loved them with his simple, no-frills way. They liked him in return and were absolutely delighted to play in his garden.

That day, Eddie put the kids on a nap and went to the garage to check a little noise that only he heard in the caravan. 

“It will take a little,’” smiled Wayne when he left. He fished from the pantry some cans of cherry. “And now you will have the time to say what is eating you away.”

Steve blushed and raised an eyebrow. Differently from his parents, Wayne never had problems accepting them as a couple since the first time. He didn't say a word about their break up and their return, and simply loved Steve because Eddie loved him. He was more than happy about fostering and in future adopting kids, he himself had been a foster parent and was really, really proud of Eddie wanting to share his luck with some unfortunate kid. 

Steve wasn’t sure that rant about the situation was a good idea. He kept washing the dishes in silence for a while.

Waye waited politely, opening and drying the cherries.

“It’s… Eddie and I had a sort of… argument… about my family. A few arguments, in fact,” he looked Wayne in the eyes. “Oh, but… but obviously we won’t split up again…” Wayne giggled a little. “My family… well maybe I’m reconsidering meeting them with Eddie… and the kids”.

Wayne nodded, silent again.

“It’s the last possibility, I swear… but my father had… had that thing, and I… I really wish I wouldn’t have to choose, really”.

“And Eddie is not ok with it?”

“He was since the beginning, and now I’m not sure I did right dragging them here”

“And he is upset about it, right?”

“You noticed?”

Wayne giggled again. He could read his kid with a glance, despite the fact that he was now a grown up man and he lived far away. 

“And there is the kids thing…” started Steve, uncertain if to tell him that too. He, despite everything, didn't want him to judge his family too hard.

“Let me guess, they don't agree with you adopting children… they want grandchildren of their blood, don't they?”

Steve washed the last dish and nodded, grabbing the counter with white knuckles.

“Don’t judge them, they don’t…”

“Oh I don't judge. You know perfectly what I think about fostering and adopting kids. But I want you to know a thing, and it will be the one and last time I say this: I have to protect Eddie and his family, of blood or adoption, and I will if needed”.

Steve nodded. 

“But you know, otherwise I will always try to make you all happy, and if you want, I will share with you a little trick to make Eddie smile”.

Wayne blinked to Steve, and he looked curiously at the man. He grabbed a cherry can.

“Cherry cobbler”. 

Eddie entered the door of Wayne’s home and stopped suddenly, sniffing deeply.

“Cherry cobbler…” he whispered entering the kitchen, and looking straight to Wayne. He understood what his uncle was trying to do, and thanked him silently. 

“I need a smoke” said the man, grabbing his cigarettes and going out of the room. Steve was whisking the batter and stopped, looking at Eddie too.

“Wayne and I always did it when I was angry and upset,” smiled Eddie, eating a cherry. “He always could calm me and make me talk while preparing this”.

“And it will help now?”

Eddie smiled. “Let’s try”.

He took control of the batter and Steve cutted the cherries. They intertwined hands when they poured the mix in the mold, and they talked, and smiled. Eddie felt really relieved at the end, just as Wayne knew. Wayne came in again with the kids who just finished their nap. 

Eddie and Steve took them in their arms. 

“It smells good, Steve,” said Becky, grabbing his head with a kiss.

“Smells really good,” nodded Wayne, looking at Eddie and smiling. 

Eddie looked at Steve, thinking, and biting his lip a little. 

“What if… what do you think if we do one more… for tomorrow?”

“Do you mean…”

“As an offer. As a sign of good will?”

Steve nodded and hugged him. “Thank you” he whispered and kissed him.

“They kisses…” giggled Becky and covered her face with her hands.

Eddie had Bobby in one hand and the cobbler in the other. He had a belligerent expression on his face, and he grabbed the kid’s hand like he wanted to use him as a shield. Steve had Becky in his arms when he rang the bell of Harrington’s mansion.

The maid opened and let them enter the living room. Harrigton Senior was sitting in his armchair and his wife on the sofa. She got up, he remained seated.

“Hello, Steve,” said his mother. “Eddie, dear, welcome” continued with a certain insecurity.

“Hi, Monica”, said Eddie, aloof, holding the cobbler proudly.

“And you are…” said the woman to the kids.

“Come on, wormies, this is Steve’s mother. Let's be polite and shake her hand,” said Eddie to the kids, who were a little scared. He could be angry with them, but he wanted to try not to influence the kids. 

“Hi,” said the kids, serious, but friendly.

“And he is my dad,” smiled Steve, pointing to his dad. “Hi, dad”.

“Hi son” he finally stood up. He smiled at the kids, a little worried too, but with a promising expression. “Hi kids. I’m your… Can I…?”

Steve shook his head. “No,” he mimicked.

“I’m Steven '' concluded Steve Senior, shaking the hands of the kids. Maybe it could be better a kiss, like the several they gave to Wayne, but Eddie and Steve wanted to be a little cautious, just in case things came out bad.

The conversation was a little weak at first. Eddie and Steve sat on the sofa in front of the parents, like in a trial, with the worried and silent kids on their laps. They just shared some useless chat about their recent trip in California and Steve’s mother just asked some polite questions.

“Can we offer something to you?” Finally said the woman, desperate to find a topic.

“We did a cherry cobbler together,” answered Eddie.

“Oh, great! I will check if we had some ice cream for that. "The woman took the cake and went to the kitchen, returning a little later with two large bags in hands.

“The maid will take care of the treat,” she said to the expectant kids. “We… we bought some presents for you,” she lent the bags to the kids. They find some illustrated books in the first, and they politely thanked and asked Eddie what the books were about. Eddie thanked the Harringtons too with a composed smile, then they grabbed the other bag. 

There were clothes. Some packets of silly socks, a little suit for the boy and an elegant dress for the girl. Eddie looked at the clothes and then to the kids, who at that moment were wearing matching Iron Maiden little t-shirts. 

Harrington senior then lent him a long box. He saw a decorated tie, with little sort of stars and dots, and looked to them interrogatively, then looked to Steve, who apparently were aware at least of that last present.

“If you think I will wear something like this at your gathering, you’re really wrong. And I won’t dress up my kids like dolls just to please some stranger,” he said harshly.

The Harringtons widened their eyes and mouths, but in that moment the maid served the cobbler. The kids forgot the present and attacked their plates, kneeling near the coffee table.

“We… we didn’t intend to force any of you to dress anything,” said Steve’s mother. “They’re just… presents,” she searched Steve’s eyes for help.

“Thanks mom, we appreciate them. It’s true, Eddie?”

“Of course,” muttered him while sipping his coffee.

“You can wear anything you want to the party tomorrow,” insisted Monica, trying to fix things.

Eddie nodded, unimpressed. The kid finished eating and he cleaned their hands and faces with a napkin.

“Kids, do you want to see the pool?” Asking Eddie standing up. He looked at Steve and he nodded. It was evident that Eddie needed a break already.

He took the kids' hands and they went out to the garden.

“He’s a tough cookie,” grumbled Steve’s dad. Steve puffed.

“You didn’t make things easy for him,” he answered dryly. “He is hurted and protective of the kids”.

“We just want to fix things,” said Monica, looking to his husband, nodding. “We want him to know we are sorry, and want his forgiveness, and make him… them… part of the family”.

“I appreciate it, mum, but he needs to hear it from you directly. And I can’t guarantee it would be easy, he knows what you think about adopting kids”.

Harrington senior blushed a little. He opposed fiercely to adopting, for blood reasons, but the cancer and the life danger made him rethink about a lot of things.

“We changed our mind,” he said. “I changed my mind. Of course, I still want a grandchild…”

“Dad,” interrupted Steve. Steven sr nodded. 

“Ok, you’re right. I changed my mind, that’s all. I will… I will accept your family”.

“The kids are adorable,” said Monica, willing to please Steve.

“Eddie is adorable with them,” Steve answered. “He is a wonderful father”.

Monica and Steven nodded.

“Eddie, would you like to come inside again?”

Steve went to collect his family around the pool. The kids were delighted, but Eddie was sitting there with a serious expression, and Steve didn't read it as a good sign.

“You always have a secret purpose when you talk so politely,” he said without smiling.

“I know. My parents want you to come back with the kids”.

“If they think to butter me up with some clown clothes and a hideous tie, they’re really wrong,” he answered, without any sign to move.

“It wasn’t their idea. That tie is the one my father wore when he met my mom’s parents for the first time. It’s… precious for him”.

Eddies scoffed.

“They’re trying to say you’re welcome in our family”.

“If only they told me it in the face…”

“They want to do it. They want to apologize in front of you. Please, come back to talk with them”.

Eddie pursed his lips.

“Look, I know it’s difficult and it won’t be immediate, but just give them a chance”.

“I don’t want to wear that thing tomorrow, nor to dress my kids up like a preppy clown,” he continued harshly.

“They didn’t mean it. They’re just presents, to show good will. So come now?” Steve smiled and lent a hand to him. Eventually Eddie shrugged his shoulders and grabbed it.

“Thanks,” said Steve, smiling. Eddie called the kids and they came inside together.

“Did you enjoy the pool, kids?” Answered Monica. “If you stay a few days more, we can prepare it to swim a little. It’s heated”.

Eddie licked nervously his lips, standing in the middle of the living room. He had the face of someone who didn’t want to bear more bullshit.

“Eddie, sit down, please,” said Steve,nervous himself.The kids sat in a corner looking at their new books. Eddie sat.

“Eddie, we… we want to apologize for… for our behavior in the last… years,” Monica cleared her throat. 

“We want to welcome you into the family, if you want to forgive us. We want you and the kids to meet all the family tomorrow, and of course… feel free to wear whatever you want,” continued Steven.

Eddie was surprised, he frankly didn’t expect Harringtons to be sincere, but he couldn’t say anything against them at the moment.

He nodded, and let go of an accent of a smile that warmed Steve's heart a lot. 

“We’ll see tomorrow then,” he said at the end of the afternoon, when they went away to return to Wayne’s house.

Eddie had a lot to think about that night. He put the kids to sleep while Steve was helping Wayne to clean the dishes. Then he enjoyed some homemade liquor on the patio with his uncle while Steve had a shower before bed. 

“A penny for your thoughts, kid”. 

Eddie sipped a little from his glass, then told almost everything to Wayne. He didn’t particularly appreciate the Harringtons, and he politely expressed his surprise about their change of mind.

“I always thought Steve came in a package with his family, whether you like it or not. Whether he liked it or not,” he added, and Eddie nodded. Steve had grown apart of his family for him, but he always suffered from it. “He did a lot for you regarding them, and I think you have to make steps for him too”.

Eddie snorted a little. Wayne always said so many things with so few words. He understood everything, and he nodded.

 

The twins were sitting on the sofa in their new clothes, looking like little preppy dolls, and Steve was trying to put their shoes on. He was happy that Eddie didn’t fuss about the clothes, on the contrary, he decided spontaneously to dress the kids in that way. The dresses didn’t really suit their kids, but it was just a signal from Eddie.

“Stevie? Honey? Could you come and help me?” Eddie called from the bedroom.

Steve went there, and he melted, blushing with his heart running very quickly. 

Eddie was wearing a light gray suit that seemed just a little small for him, and tried to work his Harrington tie, shaking his head. “I need help, I can’t do it”.

“Oh Eddie,” Steve smiled looking at him, grabbing his hand. “Thanks,” he whispered, kissing him lightly. 

“Nonsense,” smiled Eddie, blushing in return.

Steve fixed the tie, and hugged him.

Steve’s parents welcomed them really warmly when they came to the party. Steve’s father looked at Eddie’s tie and firmly grabbed his hand, smiling warmly at him. They let the kids play with the other family’s kids and they grab a glass of champagne. Eddie felt a little overwhelmed by Steve’s extended family, and intimidated for all the introductions, but they introduced him as Steve’s partner without euphemisms ,and Steve didn’t leave his side. His presence didn’t seem as a big deal as he thought so he could enjoy the buffet and the drinks.

“Steve, please, come there, Auntie Bertha wants to greet you”.

Steve snorted a little. Aunt Bertha was the matriarch of the family since her sister’s, Steve’s senior mother, death. He was nearly 80, in a wheelchair, and she had obviously old opinions about modern things. They didn’t tell her exactly Steve’s way of life, but they met once one of her daughters and he suspected that she knew. He really didn’t want to hear a lecture about homosexuality and corruption of morality, but he at least needed to pay his respects.

Steve sat at her side, with his parents near.

“Those kids are yours?”

Steve scoffed a little. “They’re foster kids, Auntie”

“Oh, so that tall woman isn’t their mother? Is she your wife?”

“No, Auntie, he’s not their mother, he’s a man and he is my partner”.

“And you don’t have kids of your own?”

Steve scoffed again, trying to remain calm.

“No, Auntie, we can’t adopt kids at the moment, we are not married”

Bertha nodded thoughtfully.

“So she’s not your wife?”

Steve tried not to get madI, she was old and probably didn’t understand everything. But he decided not to hide anything, and his parents were there just listening, he was surprised they didn’t try to stop him.

“He is a man, Auntie. He’ my partner, we live together, but we’re not married”

“Oh, yes, I think you told me something like this…” Bertha looked at Steven senior. He nodded. “And you live with a man? That…”

“Eddie, Auntie. Well, I think I have to go, now…” said Steve, starting to feel a little nervous.

“Your Grandma Mary always hoped you would marry sooner or later… why aren't you married?”

Steve stood, moving a step to the door. “At the moment we…”

“And don’t you want your own kids?”

“Auntie, I’m sorry, I have to go…”

“Steve and Eddie can’t adopt kids if they’re not married, Auntie,” explained Steven senior, sweetly.

“Oh, right,” nodded the old woman. “So you'd better not wait, right?”

Steve looked at his parent’s faces. He felt strange and he felt like he didn't understand.

“Marry him,” added the old woman. She took something from her pocket. Steve’s mother took it from her hands and gave it to Steve. 

Steve opened the little box. 

He found his Grandma's ring. He looked at his parents, puzzled and holding his breath.

“Granny wanted it for your fiance,” said his mother. Steven senior went to arrange again Auntie Bertha’s dress, and his mother walked Steve away. 

“We explained things to Auntie before, but I think she didn’t get it all… You ok?”

“It’s your idea? Dad’s too?”

She nodded. “You know, he still wants grandchildren,” she smiled. 

Steve put the box in the pocket and smiled.

 

The kids fell asleep on one of the big sofas, so they put them sleeping in the car. Steve drove slowly down the town, and at a certain point he took a different way. 

He stopped near the houseboats on the lake, and Eddie looked at him, confused. 

“Do you remember where we had our first kiss?” Eddie nodded. “Let’s have a look, come on”, he added, getting out of the car.

He took Eddie’s hand in the dark, only the moon was lighting the place.

“What’s happening, Steve?” 

Steve kissed Eddie, sweetly, as they kissed there for the first time, so shy and worried and shivering. He took the box from his pocket, and knelt.

 

“Eddie?” Whispered Bobby, waking up in the backseat. Steve was driving with a big smile on his face.

“We’re almost at home, honey, keep sleeping” Eddie reached him caressing his cheek; an engagement ring, maybe too girlish between all his skulls and crosses, shined on the road lights. 

Bobby closed his eyes again, and Eddie looked again at his ring, kissed it, and then grabbed Steve’s hand on the gear.  They blushed together.

#steddie #steddie holiday exchange #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things

[reallyromealone]

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Wisdom teeth ☁️💖🌟

Happy birthday 🌟💖☁️

Birthday ☁️🍼

Silver tin 🍼☁️

Meetings ☁️🍼

School meeting ABO ☁️🌟💖🔪

School meetings 2 ☁️💖🌟🔪

School meetings 3. 💖🌟☁️

Snow white reader ☁️🍼

First words ☁️🍼

Body issues 💖🌟🔪☁️

Locked in 🍼☁️

Hoard. ☁️🍼

Sorry we ruined your stash. ☁️🍼

Hair cut. ☁️🍼

Fly. 🍼☁️

Whipped cream 🍼☁️

Bratty heats 🌟💖⚠️☁️ A/B/O

Hair cut 2 electric Boogaloo ☁️🍼

Cookies ☁️🍼

Neglected baby. ☁️🍼

Time out ☁️🍼🔪?

Pressure ☁️

Neglectful nanny 🔪☁️🍼

Just a hoodie. ☁️💖🌟

Big brother lawyer. ☁️🌟

Kindergarten teacher ☁️🌟

Bad baby food ☁️🍼

Scenting stuff A/B/O 💖🌟☁️

Forgotten birthday 🔪☁️

Softest hair ☁️🌟💖

McDonald's ☁️🍼

RanRinKaku with a sweet boyfriend 💖🌟☁️

A new friend ☁️🍼

Balloons! ☁️🍼

Loud noises. 💖🌟🔪☁️

Meeting Shoyo ☁️teen reader

Pidgeons 🍼☁️

Lost 🍼☁️

Tiny dog dad 🌟☁️

Womb tattoo A/B/O 🌟💖☁️⚠️?

Gravity baby 🍼☁️

Buff himbo House husband ☁️💖🌟

Sexy texts 🌟💖☁️⚠️

Pocket monsters ☁️🍼

Ninja baby 🍼☁️

Meeting their son A/B/O ☁️🌟💖

Bonten trio x dilf reader 2💖🌟☁️

Forgotten pills omegaverse 🌟💖☁️🔪

Forgotten pills omegaverse ☁️🌟💖🔪

#mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader

[lou-struck]

Boba and the Beach

Koshi Sugawara x reader

Prompt:🧋+ beach

~ When the line for the ice cream parlor is too long you and your boyfriend find another beach treat.

WC: 1.2k

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the Masterlist on my welcome page.

“How is it this hot outside?” Koshi groans, running a hand through his slightly sweaty silver hair; despite your earlier protests about how sweaty your hands are, his other hand is still holding yours as you walk down the wooden boardwalk. 

You sigh and really regret leaving your water bottle on the kitchen counter earlier that day. “I feel like I am in an oven,” you whine, looking at the water in the distance. You swear you can see the heat waves radiating off of the pavement and rippling through the air as you walk. 

It’s the first true summer day of the year, and it seems everyone and their mother is out here.

The Newly renovated boardwalk will for sure be the place to go this summer, with its sprawling bike and walking trails that take you all the way to the old lighthouse in the distance. Countless new shops, restaurants, and boutiques with an amazing oceanfront view and, of course, the beach. Large multicolored umbrellas dot the coastline as people wade into the water, trying their best to beat the heat.

“Do you think your shoes are going to melt?” Koshi asks worriedly, looking down at your cheap flip-flops. In hindsight, you probably should’ve brought something a little better quality with you today, but one dollar flip-flop day at Old Navy only comes around once a year. It would be a crime to miss it.

“No, I think they’re fine.” You lie. Your attention is quickly stolen by a group of teenagers walking by with mouth-wateringly delicious-looking ice cream cones. The one that catches your eye the most is a blue ice cream with little bits of cookie in it. “Oh my God, we need that.” You whisper dramatically. Your eyes bugging out of your head at the size of the scoops.

“The Ice Cream?” he chuckles, looking back over his shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Ice cream is never a bad idea,” you cheer, grabbing the crook of his arm and pulling him down the boardwalk. You may not have an exact location of the ice cream parlor, but the teens seem to have come from the opposite direction from you, so it can’t be that far. You pass a few more people carrying ice cream cones, and they guide you to the parlor like little beacons of frozen creamy, delicious hope.

Once there, you are too entranced by the sweet smell of freshly baked waffle cones to notice a rather important detail.

“Is that the line?” He asks, noting the long line of people that doesn’t just come out the door of the ice cream parlor, but wraps around the block. Despite the heat, people refuse to move. “We will be here all day if we wait in that.”

“But…” Your stomach grumbles, and you’re half tempted to sneak in front of a young couple more focused on being lip locked than who is in front of them. You take a tentative step forward, only for him to stop you.

“Don’t even think about it,” he lectures. “We can either wait all day in this line or find something else cold to eat.” He rests his hand on the small of your back and gently guides you away from the ice cream parlor, effectively crushing all your rocky road dreams.

“Suga, it is so warm,” you sigh as the two of you pass what looks to be the back of the ice cream line. “What else can we get?”

“Hmm, let’s see what is nearby.” he hums, looking around. Despite the few droplets of sweat on his brow, he looks utterly refreshed in this heat. You wonder if this is the reason some of his high school friends call him ‘Mr. Refreshing’. “Oh, what about that place?” He points to a small shop on the corner, with an adorable chalkboard drawing of a smiling bubble tea mascot just outside the entrance beckoning you inside the shop.

“Boba sounds good; let’s go check it out.” you hum as you walk into the shop. The strong and steady flow from the air conditioner soothes your skin as you walk into the quiet shop. 

“It’s pretty quiet here,” Koshi sighs in relief, shutting the door carefully behind him. “It must be new. I’m glad we found it before it got too busy.”

“Yeah, and they all look so good. What one are you gonna get?” you ask, looking up at the massive menu; there are just so many options and combinations to choose from. 

He pauses and scans the menu, “Hmmm, probably honeydew milk tea.” he hums. “I heard from some of my student’s that it’s refreshing.”

“That does sound good,” you mumble, finally deciding on what to order. “I think I’ll get a brown sugar milk tea.”

“Isn’t that what you get every time we go out for Boba?” he teases, kissing the top of your head affectionately. 

“Yeah, because it’s the best,” you say defensively, trying to reach over and ruffle his silvery gray locks. He orders for both of you and bats your hand away like a cat when you reach for your wallet. 

You weren’t planning on paying, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.

A few more people wander into the shop as your drinks are being made. And by the time they are at the end of the pickup counter, the line is almost out the door.

“Wow, we made it just in time,” you say, grabbing straws for the two of you. Yours is a sunny yellow color, and it is an icy blue. 

“I guess we are trendsetters.” he laughs, taking the straw and stabbing it into the top of his drink. You have no idea how he does it, but he hits the dead center of the plastic every time. You look at your off-center puncture with envy and take a sip of your drink; the thick straw sends a generous portion of the milk tea into your mouth, quenching your thirst and your sweet tooth. You sigh happily as you bite into a boba pearl enjoying the texture.

Koshi smiles and takes a sip of his own, his eyes go wide, and he takes another sip. “Wow, this one is really good.

“Really?” you ask, leaning over to him. “Let me try?” your try to steal a sip, only for him to pull it away from you. “What was that for?”

He laughs at the pout on your lips and takes another sip of his drink. “I thought you said yours was the best; why would you want to try mine.” his eyes are bright as he teases you. Just trying to push your buttons. 

“It is the best, but I want to find a good backup in case they sell out,” you reply.

“Rude,” he huffs, but he still lets you try his drink. The Melon is sweet but just as refreshing as you thought it would be. “So, how is it?” 

“It’s good,” you hum, “did you try mine?” 

He smiles and opens the door of the shop. “You’re right; yours is better.”

A satisfied smile appears on your face as you walk down the boardwalk and down to the beach as you take another sip of your drink. “I told you so.”

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #sugawara x reader #sugawara kōshi #Suga x reader #x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu

[leonsleftbicep]

Okay I am eepie but! Before I go honk shoo! Fluff prompts!

(vessel = any of the guys ; Ves = it him 🫶)

vessel is sick and the others have to take turns taking care of the boyfriend

someone comes home with a bouquet flowers and!! flowers on the hair!! on the mustaches!! inside their books!!

Ves playing piano while the others watch? dance? (i am a sucker for piano V sorry 😔)

matching outfits please. pijamas. ridiculous socks. idk. it's cute 🥺

OOOooooOooOooooohhhhhhh first kiss? any pairing (iii or ii would be funny with whomever)

honesty just ii flustered. he's so Sensible and Responsible, it's funny when he gets all sillay hehehe

ivy peach.... being poked like a marshmallow

vessels taking a nap 🥹

vessels sharing a meal 🥺 food is so!!

vessel reading a book/story out loud while the other three are all cuddled up against him mehehehe :3

Oh! someone's birthday!!!! that's fun!!! party hats yeaaa

Dilfs! ivy and ii doing Old Men activities together (like idk feeding birds) while iii and Ves are destroying the house (either because they decided to cook and things went wrong ; or because they are exploring each other's bodies yeaaah weee woooo)

bakery au! ivy decorating cute heart-shaped cookies (maybe the Echoes are helping) for the guys 🥹💙

With Lotus!

she had a bad day and is being comforted and lulled to sleep by her dads 🥺

they are all spending the day at the beach collecting shells and pretty rocks 🥹 Ves is info dumping about Ocean Facts™ ; iii is annoying ii and trying to splash him (and failing. ii is loving it though) ; ivy is making a sandcastle and using Lotus' pebbles and shells as decoration 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Liddol Lotus visiting the recording studio for the first time and sitting on ii's lap at the drums. Her head barely pops up 😭 iii says she's almost as tall as ii. He gets hit in the head by a drumstick.

Uhhhh is this. Enough? Okay? Usable? Idk but there you go! I got Extra Soft on Lotus, just can't help it 🥹🪷

*SLURP*

yeah i just ate that

and yeah i am using it

oh and you wanna know what else!

i am going to line this up in my milanote with a set day on the calendar for each prompt and i am going to draw the hell out of it…

well i might have to rearrange it for the 4th 7th and 8th because i have some stuff to do those days but eh

IM GOING TO DO IT

heres a bonus! i might draw lotus at different parts in her growth because of the wacky fact that she ages 2.5 years ever year

Thank you Darya!!!!! 😘

edit: i wanted to add that on the dilf prompt i read out the “or because they are exploring each other's bodies yeaaah weee woooo” and then tehe’d like a teen girl in an early 2000’s disney film

#sleep token #sleep token band #the duck can draw #sleep token fanart #sleepy cryptid boys #sleep token headcanons #ask box

[alexandralyman]

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